The silence that had fallen over the desolate ruin after Valdrak's death seemed heavier than any scream or explosion.
Nothing remained of that battlefield.
No army.
No arrays.
Not even a complete sky. Massive cracks still covered the entire space above the ruin, and behind those fissures, the dark void could be seen, quietly and silently devouring the world like an endless mouth.
The black roots of the massive tree were still spread across the ground, but they were no longer as restless as before.
Daniel stood calmly in the middle of that hell.
Dark-golden blood still dripped from the superficial wounds on his body, but even those wounds began to heal before his eyes.
His gaze slowly moved over the ruins of the field, over the ashes of the dragons, over the burnt remains of the knights, and over the shattered corpses of the elves.
"They're not weak…" He then quietly muttered to himself.
His voice was quiet, but in the silence of the ruin, it was clearly heard.
