As the last remnants of the undead dragon scattered into the wind, a strange and uneasy silence fell over the battlefield. The Dragon Kingdom, though battered, still stood, but the toll was undeniable. The acrid stench of the dragon's caustic acid still hung in the air, mingling with the smoke rising from the wreckage. Bodies of fallen dragonkin littered the ground, their scorched armor and twisted forms telling the story of a battle that had pushed them all to their limits.
James, still on one knee, felt his chest heave with exhaustion. His body trembled, drained from the immense power he had unleashed. His vision swam as he fought to steady his breath, but even in his weakened state, he knew there was no time to rest. Vornax, the Reaper, was still there, watching him from above with those hollow, burning red eyes.
