The trip down the mountain was a quiet, somber affair. The victory at the summit felt distant, overshadowed by the sheer, terrifying scale of the powers they had witnessed. Nox was lost in his own thoughts, trying to process the 'Heart of a Nascent God' now humming in his chest, and the disquieting memory-not-memory of being a passenger in his own body.
Serian was just as quiet, her mind replaying the image of the golden-winged being that had worn Nox's face. She had touched the divine, and it had left her feeling small and deeply mortal.
When they reached the base of the mountain, their army was waiting. The battle on the slopes had been brutal, but under Elisa's and Vexia's command, they had been victorious. The other player parties had been either crushed or had fled, leaving Nox's faction as the undisputed rulers of the region.
