The throne room had been reduced to a battlefield.
The ancient stone floor was cracked and littered with shattered glass and debris. Blood stained the ground, walls, and broken pillars.
Luca sat silently on the stairs leading to the throne, his body drenched in blood. His clothes were torn, and numerous wounds covered his body. He was breathing heavily, utterly spent after the brutal battle.
At the center of the throne room lay the Last Knight.
The undying warrior no longer moved. Its armor had been completely torn away during the battle, piece by piece, until Luca had finally found an opening and dealt the killing blow — a decisive, obliterating kick to the head.
The ancient knight had fallen for good. Luca had won. But the price had been considerable. He barely had the strength to even stand.
A figure soundlessly appeared beside him.
