The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the battlefield as Zephyrus and Rowan, each leading their battered forces back to their respective bases, stumbled upon each other on a narrow path flanked by the war-torn remnants of what was once a flourishing woodland.
The surprise of their encounter brought an immediate tension, as both commanders recognized the irony of their meeting—so close to enemy lines, yet equally distant from their own sanctuaries.
Zephyrus, his armor still gleaming despite the dust of retreat, fixed Rowan with a look that mixed disdain with calculated interest. His voice, cool and controlled but edged with a mocking sharpness, pierced the silence first. "Ah, Rowan, retreating as I see. And just skirting the edges of the Cute Titans' territory, no less. One might wonder if you've simply lost your bearings in your haste, or if it's your nerve that's gone missing along with your strategic sense."
