Silence followed across the deck of the burning Valmorian ship.
Rain poured over the black wood.
Water ran through the gaps between the planks and mixed with blood near the fallen soldiers. The broken ram continued to burn behind Ulrich, though the rain had weakened the flames. Smoke rose from the prow and drifted across the deck, carrying the smell of wet ash, scorched wood, and iron.
Ulrich stood beside the headless Valmorian knight.
The black anti-magic sword remained in his hand.
Crimson Formula Rings still orbited his body, circling his arms, shoulders, waist, and legs. But several were gone now. Empty spaces appeared within the assemblage where rings had been destroyed by enemy blades or exhausted by the strain of keeping him alive.
The remaining rings moved more slowly.
Some flickered.
Some shook whenever Ulrich breathed.
Yet the silver aura continued spiraling around him.
