Chapter 489: Fafnir
"We have won." Only three short words, yet the moment hundreds of thousands of soldiers heard them, those words reverberated like divine thunder through their minds, hearts, and souls.
In that instant, the battlefield full of scorched earth and broken armor fell silent as if even the wind paused to acknowledge the gravity of the proclamation. The sound of weapons falling to the ground echoed across the open space: swords, spears, and axes clattering on bloodstained soil. Soldiers finally relaxed their grips, letting the overwhelming dread of battle slip away like a discarded cloak. Months, years for some, of grueling war had reached its terminus.
Some among the ranks dropped to their knees the moment the tension snapped. Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, crashed over them like a tidal wave. Others wept, tears sliding down cheeks smudged with grime and soot, or roared out joy and disbelief in the same breath. A myriad of emotions flickered across the faces of men and women who had survived a brutal, relentless conflict against an alien enemy numbering in the hundreds of millions.
"Ahhhhh!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Screams and laughter began to fill the air. The soldiers allowed their minds to relax for the first time in what felt like an age. Fear of death, the thrill of victory, grief for fallen comrades, relief at being alive—these feelings merged into a volatile canopy of emotion that surged through them all.
Standing atop an immense draconic form wreathed in flames, Vlad watched the army and smiled. The warriors who had followed him so far were not mindless machines, for all their discipline and training might suggest otherwise. They were human beings with hearts, hopes, and deep wells of courage. None of them had wanted to die, but all had been prepared to do so to protect their homeland. And now the war was over: they had survived.
"WE WON!"
"WE DEFEATED THOSE MONSTERS!"
In moments, shouts rang throughout the gathered soldiers, many of them reveling in the final glory of their ultimate triumph. The massive flaming dragon upon whose head Vlad stood looked out at the countless men and women. His fiery eyes glowed as though they attempted to interpret the vast tapestry of emotions pulsing from their hearts. Vlad observed the reflective light in the eyes of the Depravita of Envy and chose to say nothing just yet, allowing the uproar and catharsis to flow uninterrupted. Only after several minutes did the storm of voices subside, giving him a chance to speak.