Unfortunately for all of them, there seemed to be no end to the purple flames.
They slowly burned across the ground, freezing the shattered stones as they spread like a crawling shadow, creeping through cracks, broken walls, and pools of blood left behind by the slaughter.
Soon, the flames engulfed a wide part of the ruined capital, and wherever they bloomed, dead warriors began to rise once more. Henry was no longer holding back. He had summoned an entire army of dead wind dragons, dragging them from the ruins as if the capital itself had become his graveyard.
Max's lips parted, but no words came out.
His eyes trembled at the sight of the figure standing beside Oswald. It was the half-rotten corpse of the previous Wind Emperor, the very man Max had slain during his kidnapping rampage.
The corpse's skin hung in torn patches, his old imperial robes were stained black with dead blood, and purple flames burned inside the hollow spaces where life should have been.
