The battlefield had fallen silent.
No more explosions. No more roars.
Only the remnants of devastation whispering stories of the great battle that had just ended.
The ground was blackened, full of scorched craters and broken bones. Some corpses still smoked from charred limbs. The purple mist slowly faded, replaced by a cold wind that carried the scent of iron, blood, and magic. The sky remained gray but now it was quiet. Too quiet.
Sylvia's army, who had just fought to their last drop of blood, began to move slowly. They were not humans who would cry or cheer triumphantly, nor monsters who would dance on their enemies' corpses. They were creatures of war humans and Zombies now united under one banner. And as always after a battle, they began to tidy up.
