Cheers suddenly sounded out from the distance, catching everyone's attention. It was hard to understand what was being said but everyone could sense the joy and happiness in the cries of Estonya. The dome of protection had vanished moments before Daruun's appearance due to Guuro's passing, allowing everyone a view of the battle's finale and the retreat of the Legendary gods' forces.
Momentarily ignoring the cheers of the people, Jack and everyone took in the severe casualties of the battle. A new sense of appreciation came over Jack. His previous feelings against Daruun's timing subsided as he realized how hectic things were for the many beasts they had brought to join the fight. Those protecting Dragov and Phoro only managed to do so because the many beasts from the storehouse kept the majority of dragons busy.
"I can revive her."
"REALLY?!" Phoro's neck almost snapped as he looked toward Duorda. "Please, I'll do anything!"
Duorda sighed as everyone's attention shifted to him, "I can revive her, but that's all. I can't help her regrow her wing or her missing face. And given the cruelty of her broken legs and final wing, she'll be crippled all her life. Is that how you want your mother to live?"
"Pl… No…"
"Then, maybe it's best to hold a proper ceremony for her," suggested Duorda. "She fought valiantly and deserves the highest respect as a warrior. Right?"
"Yes…" The last surviving Minokawa elder struggled to speak. Blood had stained his silver and purple feathers, but so did the Minokawa's tears. "She's the reason I'm alive… And my weakness is the reason she's not…"
"Father…" Phoro sniffled.
"Phara was the best of us and she deserves the utmost care upon her death," continued the elder. "The title of sovereign will be carried on by you, Phoro… That's what she always wanted."
"But… But I…" Phoro shook his head, not wanting to face reality but understanding what needed to be done. "I'm a slacker! I'm nothing like her or you… I don't deserve--"
"You're our god! Phoro, you've achieved what our ancestors have desired since the birth of our race!" shouted the father. "Phara raised you well and taught you since birth. Your natural nimbleness surpasses my own and your fighting strength passed hers long ago. You are the only one fit to accept her now-vacant title as Minokawa Sovereign, whether you agree or not."
"I… I know…" Shaking his head, Phoro sighed, "It's just… Accepting that is the same as admitting she's gone…"
"She is gone, Phoro. But her legacy will continue in you. Had you been born a female, you would've shared names, even," reasoned the father. "I may have been against your leave in the past, but I don't regret anything now, including your mother's passing. Her sacrifice, along with the other elders', kept the majority of our people alive at the cost of their own. Don't disgrace that legacy now with indecision."
"Right… Thanks, Dad… I'm glad that at least you're still here…"
As Phoro carefully laid his mother's remains down and embraced his father, the other Minokawas were gathering their dead around their sovereign's corpse. The other races did the same, bringing together all their dead in their own gatherings.
At the same time, Moranti and Karonteel were gathering the dragon corpses and separating them by race. They did so respectfully instead of piecing the carcasses apart for materials on the spot.
While the city was in jubilee, everyone on the battlefield was working together to care for the dead and wounded. Once Dragas revived Guuro and Choron, she, Guuro, and Eliza did all they could to help the medics and clerics of the Leisure Guild attend to the wounded or revive those that were able. Solemnity and respect were given through silence as everyone accepted the battle as a victory by default, which garnered more reflection than outright, overwhelming victory.
Three hours passed as the noon-day sun shown down on the cleaned-up battlefield. The blood remained splatted across the turned up dirt and patches of surviving grass but all corpses were neatly gathered and lined up, including those of the dragons. Then, each race performed their own rituals to respect the fallen. Some corpses were burned, some were pieced apart and eaten by their race's survivors, and some were disposed of according to the abilities of their race.
What surprised Jack was Moranti's and Karronteel's respect for the fallen dragons. They had even asked for all stored dragon corpses to be laid out. It was a tall task to ask but they promised to return all corpses after the ceremony.
Unlike the other beasts that adjusted to the time of ancient heroes pillaging corpses for loot, leading to their varied burial ceremonies that disposed of the dead bodies, the Spectral Dragon died when they were at the pinnacle of power. None had dared such a thing, not until Halmut used the Sun Dragons to wipe them out and then proceed to massacre the weakened Sun Dragons as well.
Instead of destroying the bodies, Moranti and Karronteel took to their draconic forms, each reaching fifty meters in height. Then, they turned their claws ethereal and carefully reached into the dragon corpses one-by-one. After a couple of seconds with each body, both they pulled the heart of each dragon and laid it beside their respective corpse. This continued until the dozens of draconic corpses each had their hearts cleanly and surgically removed. The duo of Spectral Dragons gave a final bow to the bodies, not saying a word.
When they stood back up, Moranti turned to Jack and stated, "Now you can have them and do what you wish. Please allow us to keep and prepare a proper burial of their hearts later. We'd prefer to share that moment with their respective races after this war blows over."
"Of course." Jack nodded, touched at how compassionate Moranti was to their enemies' dead bodies.
"They may be our foes, but they aren't Halmut's allies either," stated Moranti. "No one is Halmut's ally, not even his own race. It wouldn't surprise me if he ate his own child in order to strengthen his own bloodline strength."