On the outer main bridge of Dreadnought Nocture, the atmosphere that had previously been filled with tension from the battle of two god-scale monsters had now shifted into a calm that almost felt surreal. The night wind, carrying the lingering cold aura from Jormungandr's eternal ice, blew gently, while the colossal fleet slowly maneuvered away from the shattered waters of the North Sea Trench.
Sylvia sat back in her lounge chair, while Persephone and the World Avatar sat in elegant velvet-covered seats deliberately created by Stacia's spatial magic. A small round table with a porcelain teapot that steamed with the aroma of jasmine and golden honey stood between them.
Although the ocean outside still churned from the residual giant tsunamis, the area within Sylvia's Domain of Absolute Death remained as stable as the firmest solid ground. Not a single drop of tea spilled from their cups.
