The air in the ruined guild hall hung thick with the smell of ozone and dust. Moonlight streamed through the shattered remains of the roof, casting long, grotesque shadows across the debris-strewn floor. Viktor, battered and bruised, stood panting amidst the wreckage, his blue aura slowly dissipating. His gaze remained fixed on the unmoving form of 011, who was now finally sprawled unconscious at his feet.
Relief, laced with a bitter aftertaste, washed over Viktor. He had won. He had defended his guild, his new home, from this brute invader. Yet, the victory felt hollow. The fight itself had been a brutal dance, a stark display of raw power that left the once-proud guild hall in ruins. But the unsettling silence that followed, broken only by Viktor's ragged gasps for breath, was even more unnerving.