After the barrage of lightning subsided, the courtyard of the fortress fell into a heavy silence. The electric brilliance that had dominated the scene gradually faded, leaving behind a somber atmosphere. Heavy raindrops began to fall from the ashen sky, soaking the battlefield with a chilling dampness.
The remnants of the battle, once etched into the ground by the lightning's ferocity, were now washed away by the rain, leaving behind only muddy earth and scattered debris. The soldiers stationed on the fortress walls peered anxiously at the sky, where flashes of lightning still flickered intermittently among the dark clouds. The faint remnants of electricity shimmering in the air sent chills down their spines.
Instinctively, their gazes shifted from the ominous heavens to the courtyard below. Despite enduring the relentless lightning, the fallen warriors were still alive, groaning in pain. It was a testament to their resilience, built over years of legendary battles and hard-won triumphs.
These once-mighty figures now lay sprawled across the wet ground, their armor glistening with rain. The soldiers, awestruck, couldn't help but admire them even in their defeat. That admiration, however, soon turned to reverence for the man still standing tall above them—Michael, atop his dragon Marcus, with Miaomiao by his side.
The sheer dominance of Michael's presence caused one soldier to flinch, subconsciously rubbing his arm as though the chill of the rain had seeped into his very skin. In a hushed tone, he asked his comrade, "Do you think anyone died?"
His voice carried a mix of reverence and unease. The comrade, shifting his gaze between the fallen warriors and Michael, murmured, "He must have held back. That… that was unbelievable. We'll probably never see anything again."
The soldiers turned their eyes back to the courtyard. The dark storm clouds that had loomed ominously began to dissipate, and sunlight started to pierce through. The persistent drizzle tapered off into sporadic drops, and faint groans echoed across the field as the defeated warriors began to stir.
Among them, Faust lay collapsed on the wet ground, his body slack as he absorbed the sting of defeat. Muddy water trickled down his cheek, and rain dripped steadily from his soaked hair. With a deep sigh, he muttered under his breath, "So… he redirected our lightning using the sphinx's power?"
As he slowly pulled himself upright, Faust surveyed the scene with a dazed expression. Though he had been the one to command the attack, the results defied his understanding. The notion that Michael had absorbed Babaru's abilities to control the weather was beyond his wildest imagination.
Letting his head droop, Faust marveled at the flawless execution of such overwhelming power. Even with the aid of a Class-1 dragon and sphinx, Michael's control was masterful.
"He commands both a dragon and a sphinx… of course he wouldn't be ordinary," Faust thought, closing his eyes with a resigned sigh.
A triumphant roar from Marcus echoed behind him, followed by Michael's commanding voice:
"So, do you all accept the results?"
Michael's words reverberated through the fortress, shaking the pride of the defeated warriors still lying in the courtyard. Groans of frustration and resignation grew louder. The self-assurance and pride they had forged through countless battles had crumbled in an instant.
Gathered in small groups, the fallen warriors tried to console each other.
"Come now, everyone. Let's face it—times have changed," one of them said, extending a hand to help another stand. Their camaraderie carried a sense of shared understanding and mutual respect.
Watching them, Michael's face softened into a smile. Despite his victory, he held deep respect for these legendary warriors. They were, after all, the comrades who would soon stand with him against the Emperor. Masking his smile with a composed expression, Michael addressed them with courtesy:
"I have no interest in the Emperor's secrets for immortality or rejuvenation. What I want are his gold and treasures, along with command of the upcoming battle. That is all."
A glimmer returned to the eyes of the defeated warriors. As they exchanged glances, Michael continued:
"Of course, I don't intend to hoard all the treasures. I promise to distribute the rewards fairly among everyone. What do you say?"
The warriors turned their gazes toward him. Gold and riches held little appeal for them, nor did the promise of command sway them much. They had long since grown weary of such worldly pursuits, having abandoned them to dedicate themselves to the pursuit of strength or enlightenment.
Aaron, spared humiliation thanks to his reluctant Behemoth, quickly responded on their behalf.
"Take what you want. We all agree."
Michael scanned the warriors' faces. Not a single dissenting voice rose among them. As expected, these seasoned fighters harbored little attachment to material desires.
Meanwhile, atop the fortress, an Ellonian knight watched the scene unfold with a puzzled expression. Turning to his father, Count Demonic, he asked hesitantly, "If that's what he wanted all along, then why did he fight them in the first place?"
Count Demonic momentarily withdrew his admiring gaze from Michael to cuff his son on the head.
"Because they'd never have accepted his terms otherwise. If he'd started by saying, 'Give me command, and you can have the Emperor's secrets,' do you think these warriors would've agreed? They follow strength, not words."
The count's tone carried the weight of experience and an acute understanding of the realities of power. The warriors gathered in the courtyard weren't the type to follow orders unless they were compelled to by undeniable strength. Michael's strategy had been to earn their respect through sheer dominance.
Watching comprehension slowly dawn on his son's face, Count Demonic sighed. His gaze returned to Michael, his admiration evident.
"To possess such skill and cunning… the continent's balance of power is bound to shift."
Michael approached Aaron, extending his hand in a firm gesture of camaraderie. His expression held no trace of arrogance, and Aaron, appreciating the humility, smiled.
"Well, it seems we've both gotten what we wanted. I'd say this makes us all winners," Aaron remarked.