Leon stood alone in the clearing, the last fragment of the city lord's shadow gone, dissolving into the air as if it had never existed. Silence pressed in on him, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant cries of carrion birds circling high above. He stayed there for a long moment, head lowered, offering his quiet respect to the fallen man, no, the fallen soul before sliding his sword back into his inventory.
His task was done.
Turning away, Leon made his way back toward Shantel.
The city was in shambles. Buildings reduced to rubble, scorched streets littered with debris, and wounded citizens carried through makeshift paths toward the few healers who hadn't collapsed from exhaustion. The destruction spoke volumes of the abomination's might, devastation inflicted in less than five minutes before Leon had drawn it away. If it had lingered any longer, there would be nothing left of Shantel but ashes.
