The crisis ended just like that.
As the last monster fell to the ground with a wail under Knight Philip's sword, living aberrations could no longer be seen on the battlefield. There were only skeletons that were continuously disintegrating covering the ground and a group of soldiers who were about to run out of strength.
No more new monsters came rushing out of the mountains; neither could any more loud bangs resembling the roar of thunder be heard from the direction of the Dark Range.
Thus, a good half-minute passed before Sir Byron began the first cheer.
Following him were soldiers, militiamen, then the civilians and serfs at camp. The cheers resounded through the southern bank of the White River. Every person learned of this victory, and to those people who had lived through the old Cecil catastrophe, this victory carried an especially exceptional significance.
