For some moments, the battlefield was quiet.
The wind blew through the dust, carrying with it the final traces of crimson mist, scattering the last remains of Elvoria's existence into the empty night.
Zhao Tian slowly lowered his sword and his eyes narrowed, expecting one final trick...
But none came.
It was over.
He turned, his gaze falling upon Velnorah, who was standing there gripping her scythe tightly.
Her breath was heavy, her shoulders rising and falling.
She stared at the spot where her mother had stood, but there was no satisfaction in her eyes.
No relief.
Just emptiness.
Zhao Tian took a step forward. "Velnorah…?"
Her gaze trembled as a soft whisper esaped his lips "She never loved me… did she?"
Zhao Tian blinked his eyes and he knew there was no easy answer to that question.
He didn't lie to comfort her.