Chapter 143 – The Bitter Taste After Victory
The battlefield had fallen silent.
No more explosions. No more roars.
Only the remnants of devastation whispering stories of the great battle that had just ended.
The ground was blackened, full of scorched craters and broken bones. Some corpses still smoked from charred limbs. The purple mist slowly faded, replaced by a cold wind that carried the scent of iron, blood, and magic. The sky remained gray but now it was quiet. Too quiet.
Sylvia’s army, who had just fought to their last drop of blood, began to move slowly. They were not humans who would cry or cheer triumphantly, nor monsters who would dance on their enemies’ corpses. They were creatures of war humans and Zombies now united under one banner. And as always after a battle, they began to tidy up.
Rank two and three zombies gathered weapons, reassembled shields, and reformed formations for the journey home. The humans erected makeshift tents to tend the wounded and compile reports. Zombie Beastkin units with sharp ears and noses swept the area, ensuring no enemy played dead.
Zark walked slowly through the crater left by Sofia’s attack. His eyes were sharp, measuring the destruction, then recalculating the fallen and survivors.
"Twenty-three dead... eighty-one seriously or moderately injured... not bad, but far from ideal," he muttered.
A few zombie mages passed behind him carrying mana pouches. Zark gave them a silent nod to continue.
Up in the sky, Sylvia still sat atop her zombie dragon but she was not alone.
Sofia now leaned against her side, her body weary but warm, her back resting against Sylvia’s chest. Her hair was still messy, magical dust clinging to her skin, and her hands bore the faint red burn from her holy spear’s blast.