These goliaths clash, their fists met with a powerful force emitted, the ears of the smaller units drummed with the sound of their strength, the two of them gone into a grapple with each other. And with a roar, stricken is Gunnar with Asger's fist at his jaw, Gunnar spitting blood, laughing in the face of the dragon his spit meets, dodging the overhand that comes next, an uppercut to the undead commander with a kick to his chest, staggering him to the ground.

"That's all you got, deadman!" Gunnar chuckles, the dragon veering back, his wings kicking up dust as he dashes back. "Uh oh!"

His foot stomped to the ground, ascended is a border of rock, Gunnar protecting himself from a sea of flames, the face of the stone structure melting into magma, the heat he feels even behind this cover he works to keep up, the dragon's spit exhausted, a spike of the earth running through his wing, Gunnar getting from his cover, spinning, he equips his self in an armour of rock he uses to begin beating away at the dragon, his movements fast even for his size, a piece of Asger's decaying flesh ripped off, apart of his jaw removed by the dwarf's onslaught. Succumbing to his instincts, the dragon rips its own wing before Gunnar could get anymore attacks in, pushing away the vice with the force of his mana, Gunnar plants his hands onto the floor as he slides, the earth beneath troubled by his size, appears a duo of entities formed out of the land, beings of rock come alive through the vice's mana that tackles the dragon, they hold onto him but not for long, Gunnar's shoulder charged into Asger, the dragon thrust off his feet, Gunnar continuing his onslaught of punching, giving the dragon no chance of catching its breath, the vice clearly enjoying himself, surprised by its counter attack that rocks him, the dwarf grunting, as it is the sisters of darkness the soldiers see getting in the way of their battle, the vice shot with a great fire blast he had blocked, losing his attention of the dragon who turns the table, biting deeply into the shoulder of Gunnar, his teeth still sharp even in death, tasting blood, the dwarf repeatedly punches the belly of the dragon.

And with a mighty order from a captain, the soldiers return fire, they will not see their vice commander's battle disturbed, casting spells of all kinds at the enemy in the back. Once more, the dwarf gains the upper hand, tearing apart away one of the hands of the dragon, a mighty screech bellowed as it prepares to breathe fire once again, its movement suddenly staggered, its presence shifting in and out of place, the vice commander looking to see his knight tired and one eye shut, Victor who has cast a spell, Gunnar taking this chance to run Asger's face through the side of the hills, his face gone more ragged and lost, snarling at his enemy, the dragon grappled from behind, Gunnar's arms at its neck and its other hand, Asger looking up, fear in his eyes as above is a knight he sees atop a spiritual creature, Arwyn who jumps off, plunging at them, his sword of light forward. The dragon roars, and out of its destroyed face, comes its blue flames that wash out even onto its own face, Gunnar behind, shouting to the touch of heat like standing next to an active volcano, his body pressed against the corpse that heats up to an extreme amount. Through the flames, Arwyn flies, his sword his protection that keeps away these blue flames, a bask of light around him, an armour of rainbow over him.

Into the chest of the dragon, Arwyn shouting as he descends, his sword plunges through, cracks of light filling the body of Asger who begins crying in his ancient tongue, his speech corroded from apart of his jaw being missing, Gunnar quickly letting go, as burst out are golden flames that takes the dragon, an astonishing sight for all to see as these flames then spread onto the battlefield, the sisters of darkness screaming, a sea of holiness burning away at the smaller monsters, thousand and thousands caught in its spread, incinerating them into nothing almost in an instant, the soldiers of Verencia un-affected as the flames simply wash over them, many possibly healed of curses, a flames so bright, so huge, that it can be seen from out of space, the entire island washed in its magnificence that one blocks with a spell to protect herself, Isabela being of vampire kin, chuckling at the back of their lines as a doctor treating the wounded calmed by this power. Dimming down, it comes to an end, and behind enemy lines, there the sisters sit on their mounts, looking over the land, flustered and in distress, they look at the fallen monsters scorched or missing, the entire battlefield cleansed of their presence, even the men dead. They look at each other, then look to see from the centre of it all, the knight who comes out in a heavy breath, his clothes dirtied with the ash of the dragon, Arwyn lifting his sword that glimmers in the sunlight, the captain with eyes that carry hope, triumph and the promise of defeating the enemy, looking back at them who is atop a hill. So they retreat, running back in the path of the last fortress, and standing on its balcony, looking over the land, viewing the battlefield gone quiet after that light has diminished, is Sierra, her breath heavy, her hands at the walls of the castle, seeing as her sisters return, then looking back through the halls of the castle.

***

Though victorious, a majority of their enemy's forces now gone, their numbers no longer a threat to their Verencia, unnerved, demoralized, crying and even crazed are many of the soldiers of Verencia; this nightmare of a conquest they want to be finished with, many losing their allies, friends and families in this battle, one demi-human female crying and screaming, the priestesses holding onto her, looking at the corpse of her father ravaged by the monster on the battlefield, another gone mad, this elf laughing, veins strengthen in his face, the horrors of what he's seen tormenting him, and another silent, drool from his mouth, a priestess coming by with wiping it away as she begins her prayer. This camp set nearby the battlefield, in all of this, Isabella works, screams hollowed throughout the camp as she utilizes her skills as a doctor; applying all sorts of drugs and different utensils, the priests and priestesses doing what they can as well, Nora one of them, frustrated, wishing that healing magic would be all there is, having to assist in removing items from the bodies of the wounded; rocks, steel and even fangs and claws. She also helps in washing their bodies, among many other things, her fright of their state great, wiping coming tears, some unfortunate in losing limbs, their faces filled with turmoil and pain, their spirits and even their minds lost, the power of their healing unable to give them back what they've lost, looking up to see a familiar face, Ezek looking down at his hat, healed of his wounded head, her eyes then piercing over to Bjørn looking out at the sea met with the black shore of the land, seeing of animals native of the land traversing, the boy then looking over to another, his hand at his face, covering his eyes, he too tormented by the war, Nahshon, also healed of his wound, hearing as Bjørn comes over to him, greeted with a biscuit he gently takes, followed by Ezek as well, the three of them looking out to the distance as come soldiers in front, their armour messy, saluting to the boys.

"Thank you. Your call of lightning, you saved us," A soldier tells him.

"Yeah..." Nahshon sounds, not even able to look them in the eyes as he feels his weakness, reminded of Captain Isak when he looks at them, the boy being looked at by another, Arwyn whose face spells curiosity, with Eyvind coming at his side.

"I did not know the boy could call lightning," He says, just as curious.

"Me neither..." Arwyn replies, Eyvind gone off to check on the others, Arwyn then walking away, to Victor in his rest. "You look like shit"

"I could say the same for you," Victor laughs, lifting his upper body, Arwyn's hands stretched instinctively in wanting to help with his friend telling him it's okay.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. My mana is being restored, and I've taken a potion as well," Victor says, Arwyn nodding.

"Seems we're all tired of this crap..."

"Yeah, well imagine the enemy. You killed most of them in one attack"

"We, Victor. We killed most of them in one attack," Arwyn says, Victor chuckling as he nods once more, then they hear a commotion, looking as every abled soldier gets up, saluting, it is Commander Vernon who appears, sighing at the sight as trucks pull up behind him.

"How many lost?" He asks.

"An estimate of 63,000. And another 2,000 wounded," Gunnar comes, healed of his scars, Vernon closes his eyes, his heart broken by the sight, then looking over at Nahshon and the boys, clearing his throat.

"The ships have been prepared to make their way back home! The majority of this battle is already over! If you wish to leave, then go home! Do not be blinded by pride or be ashamed! Once you are home, you will still be rewarded! Go home, to your families..."

In these trucks, with reluctance, slowly they fill themselves in, many still feeling a sense of shame, the severely wounded not having any other choice, with some staying once place, their eyes meeting, the Jacqawin looking at Bjørn who simply shakes his head, the boy's fist clenched as he thinks of his father, his determination not crushed. Ezek, sighing, he looks at Nahshon whose eyes gaze at the ground, the elf chuckling as he eats a piece of his biscuit.

"Yeah...all the way to hell, huh?" Ezek speaks, respecting Nahshon's choice.

"You worry for the boy, is it?" Isabela says, going beside the Jacqawin. "Your younger brother? He seems special to you"

"...I must apologize," The Jacqawin starts, Isabela surprised. "For attacking you those days ago"

"Hmm..." Isabela chuckles. "No worries, friend. Especially from this war, I now understand your ways. And I must say, that I too am worried about my new friends. War never ceases to surprise me..."

And in his hidden grief, the Jacqawin is reminded of the horrors that scarred him all those years ago, he still hears their screams. And within the castle of the enemy, its halls mostly silent; through the meeting room, dining halls and viewpoint, it is the vampire, Aliyah, who foots in the emptiness of her chambers, her hands waving, her body spinning, her movements slow, she dances under the wallow of dim light coming through the rose window, marked upon the dark gods, looking at the goddess Jacqawin that's depicted shredding a single tear, tears going down Aliyah's face the same.

"You seem so familiar..." She states, her dancing continued.

Within these same walls, is Sierra by her mirror, her hands fondling her amulet, her eyes changing colours once more, scarlet like a rose. and in her own chambers, brushing the head of a child, his face scarred by nails, she hums, the boy asleep, she is frightened, one of her flower pots spilt to the floor, smashed into pieces, and out of the, in the dirt, her flowers. Her white roses, she gazes at, the boy awoken by the noise, twitchy and in tears.

"Shhh..." She sounds, caressing him. "It's okay. Nothing is going to happen to you, my darling. Back to sleep now...shhh"

She continues her hums, looking up at the rose window above her, the spectrum of light to her awe, not wanting this moment to ever pass.