The battle might have ended, but for Alan, it hadn't. The issues and solutions needed before the city became safe once again would take hours. He gazed towards the room opposite his, where his close friend Asmodeus slept after the battle.
'That abomination caused too many casualties again…' His mind whispered while reading through various documents and reports on the battle.
— The princess used her magic to support the knights upon its appearance, but the initial psychic attack drove fifty-seven men to suicide, or death because of mental corrosion.
"It seems that damned monster has learned our greatest weakness." A soft whisper echoed from Alan's lips, his teeth clenched and eyes narrowed.
His hands shoot, distorting his handwriting as the ink slid across the parchment.
He couldn't help but sigh and reach for his empty goblet.
Putting it to his mouth and shaking the brass cup… hoping for another drop of wine to numb his current mood.
