Swooooo~~
The battlefield was silent.
The frozen ground stretched outward in every direction, painted in broad ugly strokes of gold and dark red, the blood of gods who had been, until very recently, among the most powerful beings in the Divine Realm.
Wings lay scattered across the ice like fallen leaves after a storm, some still attached to their owners, most not.
Divine bodies in various states of ruin covered the ground in every direction, frost creeping slowly across them, the absolute zero residue of the seventh move still bleeding outward from the center of the battlefield in faint colorless waves.
And in the middle of it all, Aestrea stood.
"Haa... fuuu..."
His snow-white hair hung at his shoulders in a ruined mess, the usual clean lines of it gone entirely, strands plastered to his jaw and his neck and his forehead by sweat and blood both.
Most of it had stopped being white, mainly because of the golden blood from the gods and the dark red from himself.
