The morning after the deadly battle, Dongping City was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaos that had erupted just hours before.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a pale, golden light over the city, but it could not dispel the heavy sense of death lingering in the air.
The streets were littered with the aftermath of the slaughter. Broken weapons, shattered armor, and torn banners lay scattered among the pools of drying blood.
The bodies of the fallen—warriors from various clans, Necoris soldiers, and the city guards—lay in twisted positions, eyes glazed in death, as though frozen in their final moments of terror and pain.
Citizens, those few who dared to leave their homes, walked with careful steps, eyes wide and haunted. They moved like shadows, gathering in small groups to whisper about the horrors of the night.
