The smell in the air was rather complex.
The scent of blood, the stench of rotting corpses, the burnt odor, and a faint whiff of sulfur—these mixed "aromas" made Losa's nose tingle and his eyes burn.
He wiped away the blood dripping from his ear.
The giant demon, originally three meters tall, had now turned into a charred, shriveled corpse, with the holy spear piercing its body, shining brightly in the blackened remains.
Jeanne's armor, once adorned with intricate golden lines, had lost all its power and appeared dull.
She removed her helmet, her golden curls drenched in sweat, with a fine layer of sweat beading on her smooth nose.
Exhausted, she knelt on the ground, breathing heavily.
"Are you okay?"
Prajna helped her up, and a rare glimmer of surprise flashed in her usually calm eyes—the holy spear was undoubtedly a divine artifact.
