After the chaos finally settled, when the screams thinned into silence, and the storms of spear destruction faded into a hollow stillness, what remained was... not peace but a suffocating emptiness.
Pain lingered.
Suffering clung to the air like a fading echo.
Death had done its work across every empire... And yet, not a single soul felt relief.
Not one heart found comfort in the end of it all.
The world itself seemed to breathe blood. The scent of iron and grief soaked into the soil, into the wind, into the very fabric of existence. Beneath that heavy sky, people stood not as survivors, but as something broken beyond recognition, hollowed from within, unable to even weep properly.
Aether stood silently, unmoving.
He saved Empires!
He saved what remained there!
Yet... Happiness never reached him, not even for a fleeting moment.
His long white hair, flowing like a quiet river of pale light, nearly brushed against his feet as it swayed gently in the restless air.
