The night descended like thick ink, completely enveloping Black Oak Town.
The noise, cries, and slaughter of the day had subsided, replaced by a deathly silence, broken only by the wind whistling through damaged houses and the occasional distant howl from the mountains and forests, uncertain whether it was from a wild beast or a demon.
The air was filled with an overwhelming stench of blood and a faint hint of rot, nauseating to the senses.
Everywhere the eye could see bore the marks of ruin and death—dark brown blood stains splattered on walls, gnawed remains scattered at street corners, broken doors and windows, and walls corroded and melted by acid.
The whole town was eerily silent, as if all signs of life had been completely erased by the brutal sweep that day.
Neither Duke nor his companions had the mind to spend the night in this open-air massacre ground; each of them directed their enslaved creatures to clear out two relatively intact stone houses with fewer bloodstains.
