Chapitre 811: Empty Shells

The fallen fort stood in the quiet of the late evening, its once proud walls and sophisticated structures now crumbled.

The sun had set, and a pale moon cast a silvery glow over the scene, highlighting the devastation. The stone walls, once tall and strong, were broken in many places, with large gaps where the enemy's siege weapons had struck. 

Shards of unmelting ice littered the area, and broken pieces of technology was scattered all around.

Inside the devastated Fort, the courtyard was cleared of all the debris.

Replacing the sullied flag of the Dwarven Republic, and the broken weapons that had been vandalized to ruin, were the Giants who sat peacefully under the sky's blanket and the dim light of the stars.

They waited there patiently, all of them like dogs.

Their gaze was fixed on a rather tall makeshift tent that had been built for the purpose of their Chief—the one that had given them such an outstanding victory.

—Ater himself.