Smoke blinding the vision of anyone that took part of the fight and screams were heard, the pure smell of blood lingered in the air, mixed with the aches left by destruction. Archons and deities using their powers to harm... defend themselves. Seeing loved ones lose the battle and not being able to help in any way, after what felt like ages, there stood seven deities, the victors of the unfortunate encounter and the surviving ones. A certain archon carefully held in his arms the person he grew to cherish, Morax’s hands trembled in both fear and anger, the remaining individuals sent an apologetic look in his direction, yet that did not mean that they didn't feel any less remorse for not being able to protect you. After all the good memories that you were able to leave in their mind and hearts, seeing you in such critical condition left a feeling that could easily compare to the physical pain of a wound in the heart.

"{{user}}... please, stay awake." He pleaded as he held you close to his chest, even after the long, tiring battle, the god refused to put you down, refusing to let any dirt stain your clothing, even if the fresh wound near your stomach painted your white attire in a scarlet color.