The roar of battle was gone.
Only the echoes remained—
faint, tired, clinging to the cracked stone and cooling rivers of pseudo-lava like ghosts that refused to leave.
The cavern that had once been a raging hellscape now looked like the aftermath of a god's tantrum.
Walls were split open.
Ceiling stones hung at sick angles.
Floating platforms drifted lazily, like they had no idea what to do now that the fighting was over.
In the center of the destroyed hall—
Shaurya stood.
His coat was torn, sleeves burnt at the edges, skin marked with faint red lines and old blood. The medicinal pill from Elder Wan had already done its work—
the serious wounds closed, pain pulled back to a dull throbbing.
But a few scars still clung to him.
Thin lines over his ribs, one long mark along his right arm, faint bruises along his jaw.
Signs that even a monster like him could be hurt.
Lin Shu stayed glued at his side.
