The forest bordering the western valley was silent, though traces of battle still marred the earth. Broken branches, lingering scorch marks from magic blasts, and scattered zombie corpses filled the air with the pungent stench of burnt flesh and rot.
Four figures stood at its center, panting but smiling with satisfaction.
"Weak," muttered the leader a short-haired man with a greatsword strapped to his back. Chest puffed, eyes narrowed at the remnants of the enemy. "If this is what they call a threat, then this world has spent far too long fearing shadows."
"Agreed!" one of the three women exclaimed, wearing a crimson robe adorned with a split sun emblem. "I didn't even need to use a tier-three spell. They just charged straight at us no tactics at all."
"It felt more like pest control than a real fight," said another woman lazily, her silver hair gleaming as she leaned on a long spear.
