The explosion of the holy spear split the gray sky. A golden light flared amidst the purple mist like a miniature sun born from the will of war. Its sound rolled violently, echoing off crumbling walls, shaking bone and heavens a like.
The flesh creature... was gone.
Not shattered into pieces.
No remains.
No blood.
No trace of that once-threatening bluish-purple heart.
Only a new crater larger, deeper, scorched completely as if the world itself had rejected its existence.
Sofia stood at the edge of the broken earth, her hair billowing, her face dusted with ash and the fading glow of magic. Her spear was gone. But her breath was steady. Her hands trembled slightly, yet her eyes were sharp.
Sylvia's troops roared in triumph.
Soundless, yet resolute.
They raised their weapons high, driving the ends of spears and blades into the ground in rhythmic unison. A metallic cadence of respect. Of victory. Even zombies knew how to admire power.
But the moment didn't last.
