Panting heavily, I could feel the pain searing through every fiber of my body. My left arm—gone again. I could barely grip the sword in my right hand, the blade heavy as lead, even with [Herculean Physique]. Where was my other sword? Did it get lost in the explosion or corroded by Tiamat's miasma? I couldn't tell. It wasn't important. None of it was important.
The biggest question: Did we win?
I struggled to open my eyes, my lids weighed down by exhaustion. Slowly, the world came into focus, my vision gathering clarity bit by bit. And there she was—the towering, colossal figure of Tiamat, the Dragon God of Chaos. Standing tall, if anything, she looked even more formidable now—like her power had somehow grown. A humorless laugh escaped my lips, a sound that felt entirely out of character.
Was it because I had reached my limit? Or because of how laughably hopeless this situation seemed?
I shifted my gaze to where Lyan stood, still holding himself up.
