The battlefield lay in eerie silence, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, they cast a faint glow over the scarred landscape, illuminating a scene of devastation and exhaustion. Shadows lingered where Disaster's magic had raged, their wisps clinging to the air like the remnants of a dark storm.
Bob straightened, feeling the full weight of fatigue in his muscles, the throbbing pain of every bruise and cut he'd sustained. His sword still glowed faintly, the weapon itself seeming as tired as he was. He scanned his comrades, noting the exhaustion on their faces, the slumped shoulders and blood-streaked cheeks. They had survived, but barely. How many more battles could they endure against a force like Disaster?
