Nero stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving.
Then he dropped to his knees and glanced down ah his own hands.
Amidst the chaos and the blood, he had lost himself for a moment.
But finally...
The battle was over.
His arms hung at his sides as he tried to calm his breath, the Silver Blade still gripped in his right hand, its edge dripping with blood that had long since coagulated and cooled.
His entire body was covered in blood.
The scent of the blood was repulsive and terrible.
Around him, the field stretched out like a portrait of hell itself.
There were bodies everywhere. Grotesque and miserable bodies alike.
Piled upon one another in damning heaps, scattered across the mud in twisted configurations that was beyond linguistic description.
