Meanwhile, on the Dead Man's Creek that was not an endless flatland of blood and gore.
It was coronation day, but some people were still working tirelessly.
Awakened from the Burton and Hester Families were the ones working—they were made into groups and scattered throughout the battlefield. From a brief glance, there were about seven groups of twenty-five people.
Coupled with some from the other Supernatural kingdoms, there were twelve groups in total.
Despite winning the war, the dead still needs to be honored.
"Move it, men! We still haven't reached a quarter of the battlefield yet!"
Leading the groups of Awakened was a man from the Hester Family, a Mind Elementalist who had spells that could help fasten the process. He was scanning their work and found that the seven day's worth of work didn't amount to even a quarter of the battlefield.
But then again, the work was not necessarily easy.
Due to the high concentration of chaos energy in the surroundings, their stamina was struck.
A lot of the Awakened were in the seventh-rank realm, and yet—they were easily exhausted.
On top of the corpses, they also need to collect the equipment of the deceased.
Each set of armor was made from the materials provided by the emperor himself—and thus, it was more valuable, than a single-use, case. Some were hurt from concentrations of chaos energy that settled on the equipment—zapping any hands that came close.
No wonder their efforts were quite slow.
Currently, the leader of the process was overseeing the groups doing their work.
Standing beside him was another man, talking to him.
Judging from the tone of the man—it was clear that he was quite annoyed that he didn't get to celebrate the coronations, which would definitely be spectacular. Having to feel stressed, ever since settling in Dargena City, he yearned for some drinks and late-night talk.
But he didn't get that and instead was stationed here.
He was one of the people chosen by Linthia to be supervising this clearing process.
"If Captain Linthia was the one that assembled this, why isn't she here?"
"Are you dumb? It would seem like she was sulking if she didn't attend the coronation"
Rumors were spreading around that out of the three captains—Linthia was the only one who would not get to be a knight. Compared to Gelmar and Dindora who evolved amidst the peak of the battle, she didn't.
Because of that, her feats were not enough to catch the emperor's attention.
And it was also because of that, she decided to work harder, and this was one of her ways.
"Pixies are not Supernaturals known for strength, it's natural that she didn't get to evolve,"
"Have a heart will ya? She's still a captain, so it was heartbreaking for her,"
Amidst their discussion about Linthia—the leader saw a woman among the group to his right scanning the area as if in search of something or someone. Failing to find what she sought—she eventually approached the leader.
"Sean, did you see where Anna went?"
"Hmm? Where could she have gone to? We're in an open space"
"That's what I was thinking too, there's nowhere to hide if she really is hiding,"
Just then, the man beside Sean added in contempt, "She probably ditched and went back"
"Look, if you really don't want to be here, go. I'll even do the courtesy of not telling Linthia"
Sean, annoyed by the man retorted, his tone slightly climbing.
Despite being reprimanded, the man only sneered and crossed his arms, "In case you forgot, Anna is a Wind Elementalist. If she wanted to—she could probably whiz out of here—without anyone realizing"
"Well, in case you forget, unlike you, I can read minds," Sean retorted with sarcasm.
But as the two argued, their attention was pulled to another group.
"Larry! Where the fuck did you go?!"
Suddenly, another group seemed to also lose another person.
"Madison!"
However, as he did that, he was struck from below by the black limb that impaled him cleanly from the bottom before vaporizing his entire body into dust. Sean widened his eyes, when he saw this, 'There's more than one?!'
Crack!
Dodging another one that targeted him, Sean quickly attuned to battle mode.
Expanding his mana strings, he connected with the others and gave them a physical boost.
He tried to do everything he could to help the others escape safely from this place.
But even then, it was clear that nobody was going to make it out alive.
Whimpering in fear—an Orc observed the others being decimated by the black limb.
Despite feeling that death was already a breath away from taking his life—the Orc gritted his sharp and unruly teeth and growled at the black limbs. His muscles bulged—giving him more mass than he already has.
If he was sure to go down, he would not go down without a fight.
Hearing the growl, one of the black limbs shot towards him with ferocity.
Making a quick side step, he dodged the attack and immediately rushed in to wrestle.
Even though the chaos energy, cloaking the black limb was burning his skin—the Orc did not give up and activated a war spell of his, numbing his body's ability to feel pain. He attempted to break the black limb, and surprisingly, he managed to do so.
Crack!
It snapped in half, but that was far from good news.
Throttled back, the Orc looked up at the black limb and found that its tip regenerated.
As opposed to one point, the tip regenerated six sharp points.
Becoming even fiercer, the six sharp points shot toward the Orc with extreme speed.
Each one of them was clearly faster than before, but shockingly—with the kick of adrenaline, the Orc was able to dodge, and parry each one with his spiky club. In the face of death—the Orc was dancing with it vigorously.
However, adrenaline and his war spell could only help him so far before reaching a limit.
Missing a step, the Orc got slashed on the side of his torso—taking a huge chunk of flesh off.
Following that hit, he was slapped and slammed into the ground hard.
Crash!
Disoriented and dizzy—the Orc shook his head, before he realized that he stood alone on the opposite side of the others, around the front of the Dead Man's Creek. Looking back, it was a horrifying sight of the others still being decimated.
Only Sean and a couple more were left surviving and were closing in on their deaths.
Pushing himself to stand, his eyes suddenly landed on a stump right below him.
It was a mound on the ground as if there was something pushing out of it.
Upon closer inspection—he saw a small purple seedling sprouting from the stump, and out of instinct, he began to dig the stump around it before he gasped. He saw that the small, purple seedling had roots that seemed to stab all the way down to Hell.
But before he could comprehend what it was, the Orc felt a cold air brushing his back.
He looked over his shoulder and found that it was the black limb from before.
And there was not enough time for him to react.
The Orc volunteered to help the group so that the Orcs could be accepted by the others, and fit in, but he was met with death's very scythe instead. Fully expecting that his life would end here, the Orc closed his eyes.
It was only then that he felt a pulling force followed by a loud crashing sound.
Sensing no pain, he opened his eyes and was surprised that he was safe.
Not to mention—the Orc somehow was able to dodge the black limb who struck the ground right behind him. Confused, the Orc then found that he was right by the Passue Matriarch—and he had this inclination that it was her that saved him.
Regardless of what had happened, luck was on his side, and today was not his fate to die.
Ignoring the screams of pain, he dashed away to escape the place.
Even though he was quite far away, he heard what Sean said.
No matter what, someone had to survive, and it fortunately had to be him.