Aftermath.
The battlefield was a wasteland.
Almost every inch of the Wild Lands had been scorched and shattered under the force of the transcendent power and law energy clashes. The air reeked of burnt flesh and earth, with steam rising from the magma pools that had formed in multiple spots where the ground had been carved deep into the planet's crust.
The sky was fractured like glass, with faint grey fog filling the holes in the broken atmosphere.
Every surviving combatant moved cautiously, shaken, fully aware that the scale of what had just happened was beyond comprehension.
The fallen needed to be recovered, the injured tended to, and as for the shattered landscape and the land corrupted by the FWC's blood… what could even be done about that?
Command fell to those with authority who were still alive and mentally stable enough, the presence of the Transcendents silently pressuring those higher-ups to be on their best behaviour.
