No one moved.

No wind dared stir. Only one time Lark looked with his cold angry face and all mages remained silent. They knew if Lark was serious than the matter was too deep and serious otherwise he only did fun and jokes. Lark's gaze stucked towards the 3rd commander. Constant. Until he didn't vanished. He saw something and felt. His body crumbled. Goosebumps too. He tried to calm his body and mind but he failed. Somehow he managed.

The silence after the Vestige retreat was more painful than the battle itself. They took Virion's body with them too. The third commander took that body with him by using his magic. The body levitated with him and he entered in fortress.

From the scorched plains, bodies still smoked. Mountains leaned half-shattered. Broken banners snapped lazily in the trees. The ash hadn't settled yet but the rage had already started to rise.

One of the Mages stepped forward. His face was burned, beard torn, robes soaked in blood. But his hand still crackled with power.

"We should chase them!" he spat. His voice echoed through the hollowed plains.

Another one growled from above the shattered arch of the broken field. "We have forces left! Enough to follow them. Enough to strike while their backs are turned!"

The crowd stirred.

Seroi's people muttered among themselves. So did Ren's faction. Even those loyal to the Mage King clenched their fists, standing behind the scorched remains of the spell pillars.

And then… it happened.

Old Lark raised his head.

He said nothing.

But his eyes turned.

First to the Mage who had spoken.

Then to Ren.

Then to the wounded young mages, to the soldiers breathing hard in the trenches, to the healers still pressing hands against the open guts of the dying.

His gaze held.

Like stone. Like the weight of centuries.

He didn't shout.

He didn't glow with power.

He just looked.

That look silenced thunder.

He walked slowly up the broken stairs of the main tower, boots dragging through soot and blood, until he reached the ledge that overlooked the ruined battlefield.

He faced the entire army.

And then he spoke.

"Enough."

The word dropped like iron.

Some flinched. Others swallowed their voices.

He didn't pace. He didn't raise his arms for drama.

He pointed toward the distant sky, where the Third Commander had vanished.

"They left not because we scared them," Old Lark said. " I don't know. May be I am wrong or may not but they left because they decided to. That's not victory. That's mercy. Mercy for us. I don't know what they planned, but their plan was big. I saw those eyes. In that eyes I saw satisfaction. His eyes filled with satisfaction like their plan was succeed."

"Whether they come back or not, it doesn't matter now. Look at them. They all lost something. We don't have that much power anymore. If we try anything now, we won't survive."

The soldiers stood frozen. Their shoulders tense, their weapons trembling slightly in their hands.

"Look around you," he barked.

They did.

Burning skies. Dead creatures. Shattered formations. The blood of archmages spilled into rivers.

Old Lark's voice grew heavier, like every word pulled from a grave.

"This is what we look like after fighting their Second Commander."

He looked toward the horizon.

"Now imagine the others. You saw his king's powers. He rebuilt the Virion's body. You all witness of that. Think what will happens if he will join the battle."

He turned to face the Twelve Counseling Mages directly.

"You think your anger is power? Then where was it? You and I. We all are weak. Too weak."

They dropped their gazes.

"You want to follow them into their own land? Into a realm we know nothing about? You want to throw the rest of Qiyun's sons and daughters into a slaughter because you can't accept defeat?"

The fire in his voice was cold.

"I will not let you."

He looked toward Seroi.

Then to Ren.

Then, finally, to the Mage King's bodies remnants.

Even the remained counsiling members, cloaked in scorched robes, said nothing.

Old Lark spoke again.

"This war isn't over. But today is not the day we die for pride. Today is the day we learn to survive. Because they will return. And when they do…"

He let the sentence hang in the smoke-filled air.

Then he stepped back.

He lowered his gaze.

"Bury the dead."

And with that, the entire army began to move again.

Not to fight.

Not to chase.

But to mourn. To dig trenches. To light pyres. To carry broken bodies to the temples of rest.

And all the while, high above it all, Old Lark stood on the broken field, arms crossed, unmoving. Watching. Waiting. Holding back a dying world with nothing but a single look.

No one spoked against him. Everyone did their works. Frein continued to heal Seroi and others. Towards the Ren. Surrounded shield was broked. His shield broked bcz Mage King died.

Elara watched everything. She had regret. She wanted to do something but that voice holded her everytime. She didn't angered on that voice. She knew if that voice stopped her than it's important. But she confused. So she asked that voice regarding that...

"You can see, what happened. You stopped me otherwise I was killed all of them. I understand you have some restrictions regarding that. But you told me earlier that he was awakened and than our time will come. But now everything is over. Why? Why you told me that?"

The voice's tone changed serious.

"I don't understand. What happens with him? Why he isn't wake? Something is wrong. I must have to check it. Wait. Wait for some moments. I will give your questions answers."

Then that voice faded. Stopped.

We saw the mana sea of Ren. That sea started to shatter. Nyxa was worried again. She thought again Ren was going to die. But this time Ren's body was normal. She was not able to understand what happens. She worried about Ren.

Then something started to appear. All around the sky above the black sea golden lights appeared.

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