When every god had been slaughtered and an era forged by a thousand years of war finally came to an end, the land lay in ruins. More than ninety percent of all life had perished because of her, and the once-glorious name of Tyrael had become synonymous with demons.
She no longer cared about right or wrong. Bawent's mission was over. After her own life ended, new sprouts would emerge from the earth, and a new cycle would begin in a world without war.
But Bawent did not die. That meant one had escaped her. Until she killed the last god, she would live forever under the curse.
Ten years, a hundred years... Ten thousand years passed, and that obsession only grew stronger. Every seed of war had to be eradicated, without exception!
Then one day, villagers from nearby brought her a baby girl. In a strange twist of fate, Bawent took the child in, and the story began.
“Mom! Mom! Mom says she's lived for over ten thousand years? How can that be? But I still love Mom best! A mama's girl? Call me the Darkmoon Reaper! You! Take this straight punch from my mom!” (งᵒ̌皿ᵒ̌)ง⁼³₌₃
“Weisang, if you love me, breathe.”
“Mom! If you love me, breathe!”
