The battlefield lay in eerie silence, save for the occasional crackle of fading energy. The remains of the Abyssal Harbinger shimmered like dust carried by an unseen breeze, its monstrous form finally eradicated. Yet victory felt hollow, its weight dragging down every breath.
Pyro sat slumped against a jagged rock, sweat mingling with streaks of blood on his face. His Zweihander lay beside him, its once-glowing edge dimmed, a reflection of his drained strength.
"We did it…" he muttered, the words sounding more like a question than a statement.
Aria knelt nearby, her gaze fixed on Ashen's unconscious form. His staff lay broken in two beside him, evidence of the last desperate [Mana Seal] he had cast. His chest rose and fell shallowly, his pale face barely showing signs of life.
Aria tightened her fists. "He pushed too far," she whispered, her voice tinged with anger and worry. "If he doesn't wake up soon…"
