You stand next to Clancy and several others from the banditos in a row. Fire captivates the eyes of the victorious rebels.

End of suffering. End of Dema. End of the Nine too.

Red flames devour the city, glowing with the colour of victory. A mixture of yellow, orange and red. The heat reaches all of you, even though you are standing at a safe distance from the burning city.

Everyone is tired, a layer of sweat covering their skin after a hard fight, and the smell of burning fills their lungs.

You looked at Clancy. His face was somehow soft and proud. He, too, was captivated by the spectacle, shedding a little of his hardened leader shell.