The mist disperses, the night fades, and a red sun gradually arises among the distant mountains, dyeing the edges of the hills gold, casting myriad rays upon the earth.
The majestic Holy Tree becomes battered, marked by scars and gaps, yet restores its former sanctity and purity, resembling a wounded angel.
"We... have won."
Catherine looked around, the once beautiful and prosperous kingdom now lay in ruins, with remnants of humans, dwarves, and elves everywhere, while those abyssal creatures have been purified by the moonlight, nowhere to be seen.
Upon seeing the elf remains, Catherine's initial joyous mood grew heavier.
As a race with long life spans and highly gifted in magic, elves were already sparse in population, with Serinia numbering just over thirty thousand.
After this battle, tens of thousands were dead or injured, shaking the foundation of Serinia, and it will likely be difficult to recover in the short term.
Indeed, they were victorious.