>>>>THIRD PERSON POV<<<<
Floor Ninety-Seven had finally fallen quiet.
The monsters that had circled the battlefield throughout the war gradually disappeared into the distant ruins as though even they understood something sacred had taken place. None of them dared approach the broken ground where Brute had fallen.
Only the wind remained.
It drifted gently through shattered stone, carrying away loose ash and the scent of blood that still lingered over the battlefield.
The survivors didn't move.
Some remained lying flat against the cold ground, too exhausted to lift their heads. Others sat where they had collapsed, staring blankly into the distance without really seeing anything at all.
Every muscle hurt.
Every breath reminded them they were still alive.
Baroque still had both arms wrapped around the piece of Brute's broken shield he had wrestled until the very end. He looked down at it for several seconds before quietly letting it slip from his fingers.
