'When the battle ends, a stench of burning flesh and death overcomes the land, gunpowder with a faint hint of the forest aroma. The murmurs of death that follow a great battle, like a stone skimmed across a great river, creating countless ripples...'
Asura's dark red eyes narrowed, the battle long over, yet his heart was far from calm watching the mass of lost life, some burned, crushed, and many no longer resembling human life.
His figure draped in a black uniform and cape, sitting at the edge of the collapsed wall, the wind blowing through his raven locks that dance in the bitter mid-evening breeze.
"Can you do me a favour, Amalia?"
"What would you ask me to do, Prince Asura?" Her voice was neutral and lacking her usual sisterly tone because of the situation.
