The fires in the tar-mud basin slowly burned down to a violent, smoldering orange. The screams had stopped. The elite vanguard of the Sun Spire were gone, reduced to scrap metal and ash.
Behind the invisible barrier of the Sun Shrines, Aurelius fell to his golden knees in the pristine, dry dirt of his temporary domain. His hands clawed at the invisible wall. He had stopped screaming. He was hyperventilating, his eyes wide, staring at the absolute annihilation of his military assets.
From the thick, choking smoke of the Bastion side, a small silhouette emerged.
Iron-Scale walked casually up to the border line. His black suit of leather armor was pristine. He hadn't even drawn his stiletto for the final clash. The Kobold Inquisitor adjusted his pose, looking down at the kneeling, broken Rank 9 God.
