The pale sunlight pierced through the dark mountain, drawing out steam from the earth.
Thick, sticky black smoke intertwined with sunlight, rising beside the half-buried wagon wheel frame, exuding a scent of rust and charcoal.
The corpse collector drove the carriage, throwing heavy corpses into the cart bed.
The creaking sounds of the spinning wheel spokes complemented the cawing of crows feasting on decaying flesh atop the corpses.
Occasionally jolted by a rock, a corpse would suddenly tremble and even roll off the carriage.
In front of the castle nestled within these mountains, the ground was littered with shattered arrows and iron debris.
Standing on the hillside, Bether hung his arm and chewed on foxtail grass, staring blankly at the war-torn landscape.
"What are you looking at?" asked Lannes, his forehead wrapped in bandages, as he led a horse over.
"I still can't believe it... we actually defeated the Imperial Knights."
