Chapter 317: 317:Aftermath.
The sound of battle finally faded from the royal gardens. For several long moments, no one spoke. The sounds that replaced the battle were far quieter, yet somehow far heavier.
Only cries of the wounded, hurried footsteps of healers, orders shouted across the ruined garden and the crackling of small fires still burning where powerful elemental techniques had scorched the ceremonial grounds occasionally filled the garden.
The once-pristine venue prepared for a royal celebration had become almost unrecognizable. Broken pillars lay scattered across the pathways. Flower arrangements had been trampled into the stone. The white marble floor was stained with blood belonging to every race present.
The spring breeze continued carrying flower petals through the gardens, as though nature itself remained unaware of what had just occurred.
For many of those standing there, the celebration already felt like it had happened years ago.
The High King slowly lowered his sword. His shoulders remained straight, but the exhaustion hidden beneath his composed expression could not be concealed from those who knew him well.
"Report."
A Royal Commander immediately stepped forward.
"The barrier has completely restored itself, Your Majesty. No additional enemies remain inside the palace grounds. The western breach has also already been sealed."
The High King nodded.
"Continue searching. I want every room, every corridor, and every underground passage inspected. Leave nothing unchecked."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The commander hurried away.
Nearby, palace manipulators worked tirelessly to cleanse the lingering clouds of corrupted Aether left behind by the cultists’ suicides.
Golden purification circles illuminated the gardens one after another, gradually erasing the tainted energy before it could seep into the surrounding land.
Senior priests walked among the wounded, their healing arts glowing softly beneath the morning sun.
Atheline lowered his bow for the first time since the battle had begun. His fingers ached and his shoulders felt heavy. Only now did he realize how much Aether he had expended while also trying to cause as minimal damage to the surroundings as possible.
Lilith approached him quietly.
"Are you injured?"
He looked down at himself. Cuts covered his sleeves, several shallow wounds marked his forearms and one bruise had already begun forming near his ribs.
He flexed his hand.
"Nothing serious."
"You?"
She shook her head.
"My shadows absorbed most of it and most of them weren’t strong. There were just too many people around. "
She reached out without hesitation, gently brushing a streak of blood from his cheek.
"It isn’t yours."
He smiled faintly.
"I told you I’m not injured."
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke; instead, they simply watched the healers moving among the fallen.
A familiar white shape nudged against Atheline’s side; the fox. Its massive battle form had already begun shrinking.
With every passing second, its body grew smaller until it returned to the size of an ordinary young fox. The moment the transformation ended, it wobbled uncertainly before collapsing into his arms.
He caught it immediately.
"So that’s your limit."
The fox gave a weak little chirp before burying its face against his chest. Its icy aura had almost completely disappeared.
Lilith gently stroked behind its ears.
"She exhausted herself, protecting people."
"She did." Atheline smiled proudly. "And did remarkably well."
The fox’s tail moved weakly. Despite its exhaustion, it clearly appreciated the praise.
Elsewhere in the gardens, representatives of every race had begun helping one another.
A Beastkin physician worked beside High Elf priests to stabilize injured Royal Knights. Dwarven craftsmen reinforced damaged walkways so stretchers could pass safely.
Wood Elf healers distributed restorative herbs without caring whether the recipient wore High Elf silver or Dark Elf black.
Even Prince Lucifer had abandoned his hammer; instead, he helped lift massive sections of collapsed stone from trapped attendants.
One of the palace servants looked at him nervously.
"My lord..."
The prince grunted as he pushed another broken pillar aside.
"What?"
"...Thank you."
He paused, then shrugged.
"Don’t thank me. I’d rather not attend another funeral."
He returned to lifting the rubble.
Near the centre of the gardens, the High King gathered the surviving commanders.
"The casualty reports."
One by one, they stepped forward.
"The Royal Guard has lost twenty-three knights."
"Twelve palace mages remain critically injured."
"Five senior priests were killed protecting civilians."
The atmosphere grew heavier with every report. A Beastkin commander lowered his head.
"We lost three escorts."
The Dwarven ambassador spoke next.
"Two of our delegation."
The Human Kingdom representative quietly added,
"Four."
No one escaped untouched. The High King closed his eyes briefly. The fragile alliance had survived but it had paid dearly.
Lilith stepped beside him.
"They wanted this."
The High King slowly opened his eyes.
"I know. They knew they couldn’t defeat everyone gathered here so they came to leave scars."
Atheline joined them.
"They also wanted something else."
Both rulers looked toward him.
"Think about it, the explosions, the hidden cultists, and the breach. It all delayed us."
The High King frowned.
"You still believe this wasn’t their true objective?"
"I do." He looked toward the palace itself. "Everything happened too... perfectly. They never attempted to assassinate any of us and they ignored many opportunities; clearly, they wanted us occupied."
Silence settled over the small group. Lilith spoke first.
"Search the palace, again. Every chamber, every archive, and every temple."
The High King nodded immediately.
"I was already planning to."
.
.
.
While the palace erupted into organized activity... a single figure quietly moved through one of the oldest corridors beneath the western gardens.
He wore simple dark robes. Nothing distinguished him from the countless attendants and workers still rushing through the palace.
His footsteps made almost no sound. Whenever soldiers crossed his path, they barely spared him a glance. To them, he was forgettable, just another worker responding to the emergency.
The hood concealed his face, only his calm eyes remained visible beneath the shadows.
The Protector.
The deeper he descended, the older the palace became. The polished white stone gradually gave way to ancient roots that had slowly intertwined with the architecture over thousands of years.
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