The man in silver armor floated in the air.
Below him, the ground was a giant scar. The explosion had carved a perfect circle into the battlefield.
The dirt and grass were gone and replaced by a smooth sheet of black, glassy rock that still glowed with a faint red heat.
Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the cracks in its surface.
He hung in the air right in the middle of it all, completely unbothered.
There was not a single speck of dust on his shining silver armor. His long blond hair drifted softly around his face as he slowly looked down at the ruin he had created.
His face was calm. His eyes were cold and empty.
He didn't look proud. He didn't look angry. He didn't even look satisfied.
He just looked bored.
He let out a quiet sigh, the sound swallowed by the huge, empty silence of the crater.
"They used our spell for this? What a waste," he looked around the battlefield, a sense of disappointment in his voice.
