Black blood splattered across the ground, marking the end of the fearsome battle between humanity and an ancient beast. Humanity emerged victorious.
The glare from the sunlight, casting its golden light toward the battlefield, gave everyone in the place a clear picture of their victory, and yet all sound disappeared. Not even a single breath could be heard.
Leon, whose face turned deathly pale, lost the strength in his legs as he dropped down to his knees. He had a hard time collecting his rough breathing; his parched throat was burning every time he wanted to gulp his saliva.
'Is it over?'. He lifted his gaze and saw a long line along the separated dragon head in his sight.
"We won!". Lancelot raised his spear high in the air while shouting his cry.