The sky was as grey as lead, snowflakes like loose catkins swirling in the sky, their icy beauty mesmerising.
The battle was over.
Only a few short-legged horses remained, gently licking their masters whose pupils had already dilated in death.
The Overlord had emerged from his berserk state, seemingly unaffected. Carrying the Ancient Power Fire Gun and diligently examining the wounds of Korina and the mammoths, he appeared perfectly delighted. He showed no signs of post-battle fatigue that even the mammoth riders, who bore most of the after-effects due to their shared berserk state, found astonishing.
Thanks to the prompt prayers of the clergy and the protection of the Soul Chains, along with their natural stone skin, the wounds of Korina and the mammoths were not fatal. However, a period of recuperation was certainly in order- the price of recklessness.
