Stephan looked down at Asriel's lifeless body, his chest heaving, every breath scraping his throat like fire. The black aura of the tiger that had once roared around him began to splinter, its stripes peeling away into drifting wisps of smoke. The spectral beast growled low, then bowed its great head before dissolving entirely, its form scattering into black motes that faded against the ruined battlefield.
Stephan stumbled, nearly falling to one knee. His sword clattered against the ground before he caught it again with trembling fingers. His vision swam. Every muscle in his body screamed as if it had been wrung dry of strength.
"Damn…" he muttered, spitting blood onto the cracked stone. His body was at its limit, wounds burning, reserves hollowed, his very soul stretched thin.
And yet… he had won.
