The dark sky was growing dimmer.
Under it, at the human camp, the smell of blood had spread everywhere.
The battle had stopped for a while, but the damage had already been done.
Injured soldiers were being moved into medical tents, where medic teams tended to their wounds.
Knights who were still fine and able to move took on another task. They handled the bodies of their fallen comrades.
Leaders like Lyra and others helped with this grim duty.
They had no other choice but to burn the bodies and collect the ashes. That was all they could do.
More than a hundred soldiers had died today.
Galahad watched over everything with the same cold, indifferent expression.
He hid his own disappointment well. His blue eyes surveyed the entire camp.
He was still wearing his armor, though it was broken in several places. His wounds had already healed a long time ago.
Now, he was thinking about their next course of action.
What should they do?
Should they continue this campaign?
