The last of the airborne debris pattered to the ground, creating shadows through the fading wedges of the evening sunshine. The day became gloomy, sunlight was being strangled by the thick blanket of dust still floating in the air.
The lingering dust-cloud whirled and swirled, mimicking the pattern of the chaotic wind.
Occasionally letting through streaks of sunshine, but most of the time blotting out the orange-coloured sky overhead.
Silence reigned again in the once peaceful and tranquil mountainous region.
Those who could escape with their lives were long gone, too traumatised to even look backwards.
Those who couldn't escape were laid silent and lifeless, mangled within the destruction at the entrance to the western hills.
In the calm aftermath of the frenetic battle, people started to pop out from western hills like moles leaving their underground habitat. Scouting to make sure the battle was truly over and the enemy had fled. One by one eyes bulged and mouths gaped as the soldiers got their first glimpse of the scene.
What greeted them was the devastated land before their glazed and shocked eyes. Several people gasped in horror, the rest were too stunned to utter a sound.
The land was ploughed naked, missing every single tree for at least two miles. Massive craters, chunks of dirt wrenched from the earth, and boulders of all sizes were scattered everywhere.
At the epicentre of the destruction was a massive crater, at least five times the size of the others, inside it was scorched black, still smouldering with smoke and soot dancing in the air.
A gully ten meters deep ran from the entrance and off a mile into the distance, but worse of all were the mutilated dead bodies, they filled every nook and cranny.
The faces of the dead told the silent story of their horrifying ordeal, their expressions betrayed their terror at the moment of their passing. The deathtoll was in the thousands at least.
As people gathered to discuss and survey the destruction at the entrance, they also inwardly mourned the soldiers from their own side, the ones who had been too slow in retreat from the frontlines.
Even though the losses of the western hills weren't as catastrophic as the noble's army trapped in the flats down below, they still couldn't be considered light losses.
Several dozen defenders were crushed to death and laid splayed in the periphery of the hills. The mood became sombre and depressing just like the new landscape.
The victory over the armies of the invading nobles had been valiantly fought and won, but now it felt somewhat hollow. It was a classic case of: In war, not even the winners win.
"It looks bad down here, how is this possible, how can a Saint sneak attack a mortal man? Have these people no shame."
Fu Qian was obviously flustered as he spoke, the sight he was looking at sent shivers through his body.
The experienced Qin Li didn't pay much attention to the carnage. "Have you seen Hartley," he rushed forward and barked a question.
"The last time I saw him he was over there." Fu Qian pointed to the massive blackened crater.
"But I didn't stick around long enough to see where he went after that."
Qin Li hurriedly hustled a group of elites from House Hartley and instructed them to fan out and search for Hartley through the rubble. If he was injured, or trapped under debris, he wanted to find him as quick as possible.
The looks in the eyes of the search-party revealed anxiety and helplessness, they would need days to search through the rubble of destruction on this scale. If Hartley was injured under the debris, it could be a week before they located him. Would he even be alive by then?
Since the ending of the battle and the withdrawal of the enemy, no one had seen a glimpse of Hartley. These were worrying times.
***
Fu Jianu still armed with her bow tried to keep up with Zhi Ruo, The girl's eyes were wide and unblinking, she tried her best to remain stoic, passing the shredded and scattered bodies of the enemy. She struggled to stay in step with Zhi Ruo on the bumpy, hole-riddled earth as they walked across the scene.
Zhi Ruo on the other hand, moved with dainty steps effortlessly over the battered terrain, the two women were surrounded by a ring of well equipped elites from House Hartley and a few hundred of Viscount Sanzu's men, her dress danced to the whims of the wind and anxiety was permanently tattooed in her expression. She couldn't help feeling that this whole event was on account of her.
Hartley had instructed her to stay at the manor and await his return but how could she? After witnessing the scene and not seeing any sign of her husband, her mood was dark. She had to come and personally search the rubble giving orders to the contingent around her as they toured the scorched earth looking for signs of life.
The common people living in the western hills heard of the victory and came flocking to the scene, wanting to witness it with their own eyes. Shocked and awed by the sight of violent destruction, they broke out in manic discussions.
When people got wind that Hartley was missing and might be injured among the rubble, they braved the horrific scenes of blood and slaughter and rushed down with all the medicines they could put together, forcefully breaking through the lines of soldiers who had quarantined the site and clawed at the rubble with bare hands.
To them, Hartley was a benefactor who had saved them from certain hardships and doom at the hands of the nobles. They had to find and attend to the young lord if there was any possibility to be of help.
The soldiers could not stop the flood of well wishers and at this point in time they were not motivated to.
The people of the western hills were former no-hopers merely scrounging and scraping to survive the misery of being born as commoners.
With Hartley now missing, the hope for the future that they had cultivated within their hearts plummeted to the depths of despair. It was worst the thing they could imagine.
***
A platoon of galloping horses approached the western hills at brisk pace, about a mile from reaching their destination, they discovered the roads were destroyed by craters and gullies, large rocks spread across the road and groups of bloodied, battered and unarmed soldiers were desperately flooding in the opposite direction.
The men passed in silence, visible shocked and frightened, sporting soulless eyes, not paying any attention to the group of mounted-men going against the tide of human traffic.
A further half a mile and the terrain got so bad that the horses couldn't move in a straight line through the minefield of craters.
A slither of the setting sun was peeking over a mountain in the distant.
The gigantic Commander Genk dismounted from his horse and looked ahead with enlarged eyes.
The poor horse collapsed beside him, gasping for breath like a overzealous marathon runner. He was late, what would he discover at the end of this road of destruction? He didn't even want to consider.
"We move forward on foot," Genk ordered. The men prepared their provisions and proceeded on their journey with haste.
Qin Li, Fu Qian and Zhi Ruo stood at ground zero, this was the epicentre of the carnage. This was where Hartley's dark sphere had detonated. Other than smoking debris the only other thing left was the lower half of the saint's body. The blackened cauterized legs and abdomen of the withered man still sending swirling smoke to the sky.
Qin Li directed the elites and the volunteers to search the almost 200 meters wide and 20 to 30 meters deep blast radius.
The people searched diligently in silence with bowed heads as they concentrated on the task with nervousness. No one wanted to be the one to discover Hartley's corpse. It was evident to them that none caught in this blast could survive.
About half a mile back from ground zero was a hill of rubble standing ten meters high. Hartley's eyes flashed open and was greeted by pitch black darkness. Memories of the explosion flooded back. His back ached as sudden pangs of pains darted through his body.
He struggled to move feeling pressure from all sides. Pulses of blue light from the sphere still protecting his body illuminated the darkness in spaced out intervals. In that flash, Hartley quickly surmised the situation he was in.
His hand trembled as he summoned the strength move, with a simple wave, a large piece of rock was sent flying, opening an exit to the hill of debris.
Light flooded in as Hartley staggered out with groaning sounds. A few seconds later the pile fell in on itself with dust and chips of rock spraying out.
Hartley took a breath, pulled himself together, looked around and assessed the damage laid out before him, the battle was won, but the collateral cost was high.
Hartley now resigned himself to the fact that the black sphere could only be used as a last resort, at least until he could improve it to a stage where he could control it better.
Hartley staggered along and saw people scattered all over the battered landscape busily moving rocks, not just soldiers but also civilians, he was puzzled for a moment.
That was when a young man dressed in civilian garb saw Hartley from 20 meters away. He wiped his eyes in wonder and joy then came closer, as soon as he recognised Hartley he started shouting merrily at the top of voice. "The young lord is over here."
The majority attracted by the cries came rushing over. Swarming around with elated expressions. Soon the group of Qin Li, Fu Qian, Fu Jianu and Zhi Ruo arrived in nervous haste.
After regrouping with the others in joyous celebration. Hartley hugged the relived Zhi Ruo after exchanging a few intimate words and kisses, using her as support for his weakened and limp body. Rough joyous laughter surrounded Hartley from both sides. Qin Li and Fu Qian could hardly hold in their mirth.
Long shadows were drawn over the western hills, the long day was transitioning into night. Hartley and the others were swarmed and escorted by the elites of House Hartley with the excited residents trailing in their wake.
They made their way away from the destruction and towards the manor, Hartley looked back over his shoulder and couldn't help but let out a long sigh.
It would be a massive endeavour to clean up the the damage... ...
The triumph over the noble allies in the west had catapulted Hartley to a major figure in the capital. In the days after the battle, the other nobles in the west who hadn't joined the assault on the western hills were quick to send their regards, fearing Hartley would wrongly assumed them in cahoots with his enemies.
In all but title Hartley had become the ruler of the west.
Commoners continued to seek refuge in the western hills as Hartley consolidated his new power.
In the east of the capital it was a typical day, the sun lashed over the tightly packed roofs. People went about their day as usual, some discussing rumours from a monumental battle that happened days aback.
In the meeting room of the castle to the east, commanders and captains sat with gloomy faces, Baron Hongtian was sat in a cushioned chair across from the eldest prince, his eyes no longer held its former confidence and his posture slumped lazily.
"Missing presumed dead." The Baron lifelessly answered the question posed.
"So what about Hong Zang ?" the eldest prince inquired about another name on his list as he stared at a messy pile of parchments laying on his desk.
"Missing presumed dead." came another monotone answer.
"Elder Juantao?"........ "Missing presumed dead."
The usually calm Prince banged on his desk in anger. A saint, a half-saint and damm near every ally in the west were missing presumed dead.
In an attempt to rally his support in the west, he was finding it difficult to gather his old allies. Despite the answers from the Baron, he knew some of them weren't dead, they were obviously cowards who had heard reports of the secret weapons of the western hills and the mass casualties it had inflicted.
They instead opted to flee the west leaving a vacuum of power that would be filled by Hartley.
This was bad, instead of levering Hartley out of the picture, the prince had inadvertently made him the undisputed ruler of the west.