The aftermath was quiet, eerie. The horde lay restrained, fragmented, some subdued, some consumed only to maintain order. Kael moved through the battlefield, assessing damage, stabilizing the dead, and comforting the living. Hunger whispered, patient, reminding him that every consumed fragment increased power but eroded humanity.
He paused at a cluster of souls, their faint glows trembling in fear. Kael resisted the urge to feed, threading control gently, guiding them toward coherence. Each act of restraint brought clarity, yet fatigue threatened to overwhelm him. The battlefield was a test of endurance, morality, and focus.
By nightfall, the enclave had survived, but Kael felt the invisible weight of every choice, every consumed fragment, and every soul restrained. He understood more profoundly than ever that mastery required vigilance, balance, and a constant reckoning with one's own morality.