Mist swirled around the mountains, and after the battle, a peculiar calm settled over the forest.
Scattered among the woods were hundreds of Centaurs taking a brief respite after the fight. Nearby, nearly all the young men from Erune bore injuries, and the Tree Elves fared little better. Having carved a bloody path through the thousands of wolves, everyone felt a deep-seated fatigue.
This fatigue was like a pair of dying claws gripping your nerves, pulling you into a sleepy abyss. Yet, despite heavy eyelids, no one dared let their guard down.
Brand sat on a fallen deadwood—this timber was from who knows which era, with hollow trunks growing amidst dense moss and mushrooms sprouting beneath. He held a hand to his injured cheek; despite the pain, he gritted his teeth and let Melia cast a healing prayer on him.
Fortunately, the healing magic was just as powerful as in the game. Brand felt a slight itch at the wound, but it healed quickly and was no longer painful.
