Far across the ravaged plains, Drake, Neana, Eirana, Rodriguez, Charlotte, Guinevere, and Morris stood amidst the ruins — the last surviving core of Eldoria's warriors. Their bodies were battered, their armor cracked, their spirits frayed… but they were alive.
Neana wiped the blood from her chin, her Juggernaut aura flickering faintly. "It's finally… over," she murmured. Her voice was hoarse, distant — like someone trying to convince herself.
Drake sheathed his snapped sword, his body still trembling from the earlier clash. Lightning flickered around him unconsciously, a reflex born of adrenaline and unease. "I wouldn't be so sure," he muttered. "Kaelen's still up there."
Eirana turned toward the horizon where the clouds swirled like liquid silver. "Do you think he's still fighting?"
Drake's gaze lingered on the skies. "No… this feels different."
It was then that the ground began to hum. Not tremble — hum.
