Ten hours had passed since the intense battle between the horned white snake and the golden-winged roc had come to a close.
Upon returning to the battlefield, Braydon Neal surveyed the chaotic aftermath, his expression contorted with frustration.
Despite his expectations, neither the golden-winged roc nor the one-horned white snake lay dead amidst the wreckage.
It was a bitter realization for Braydon, exacerbated by the loss of his beloved Northern King Sword.
The sword held sentimental value, having been a steadfast companion throughout Braydon's formative years.
Its loss felt akin to losing a cherished part of himself.
In a fit of frustration, Braydon called out to the absent white snake, his voice echoing in the silence of the desolate battlefield.
However, his summons yielded no response, leaving him to stew in his impotent rage.
