Cruzer stood amidst the aftermath of his hard-fought victory, the oppressive silence of the chamber a stark contrast to the fierce battle that had just taken place.
The Wraith King, once a towering figure of malevolent power, was now nothing more than a pile of dust scattered across the cold stone floor.
His body ached, muscles burning from exertion, and the lingering traces of dark magic still clung to his skin, a haunting reminder of the corruption he had faced.
With a deep, steadying breath, Cruzer forced his trembling hands to sheathe his sword. Victory was his, but it had come at a cost.
Exhausted and covered in cuts and bruises, Cruzer felt the corrosive dark magic from the Wraith King still gnawing at his muscles, a stark reminder of how close he had come to defeat.
