The bishop's magnificent vestments, which housed the Sun's residence within the church, had long since turned to ashes.
Along with his personal guards surrounding him, he too had turned into black charcoal on the ground.
A few residual golden electrical arcs bounced off the ground.
One of the strands accidentally hit Menno's horse's leg, then his hand, which was tightly gripping the reins.
HISS! Menno exhaled, feeling a strong, tingling pain instantly spread across half his body.
His warhorse, startled, neighed, reared up, and nearly threw him to the ground.
He gripped the reins tightly, looking around in shock.
The area within a few meters of where the bishop had originally stood was cleared, leaving only scorched earth and scattered smoldering black coals.
Further away, his soldiers... where were any organized units left?
As far as the eye could see, the once orderly military formation had vanished, replaced by fallen corpses and discarded weapons.
And the fleeing figures, scattering like headless flies, trying to escape being incinerated by the next golden lightning bolt.
He had led a thousand elite imperial troops to suppress this "serf uprising," but during this thunderous bombardment, lasting less than half a minute... they were practically completely annihilated.
Fear, like icy seawater, washed over Menno, though anger and humiliation remained.
But in the face of such a disparity in power and the instinct for self-preservation, that seems insignificant.
The fact that the other side spared his life was not out of mercy, but rather a calculated move. They needed him, an officer of sufficiently high rank, to tell them what he had seen and heard that night.
All of this, simultaneously a miracle and a nightmare, must be made public, announced to Nilfgaard, the Emperor, and everyone else.
It was a warning, a declaration, and a deterrent. Menno took one last look at Gil, who was still hovering in the sky, his golden wings slowly flapping, looking down at him coldly.
The last signs of resistance in his eyes disappeared. He pulled the reins, turned his horse, and kicked it hard in the belly with his spurs.
"Go!!" The warhorse, letting out a pained roar, carried the frantic Menno, desperately fleeing into the dark wilderness, away from this hellish battlefield.
Gil's gaze followed the fleeing figure until it disappeared into the night, then slowly looked away.
If it weren't for the need for a "messenger" and if the idea of wiping out all the people, the deterrent and informational effect, might not have been achieved at all...
He never left behind a single executioner whose hands were stained with the blood of his comrades.
He turned his gaze to the remaining, scattered Nilfgaardian soldiers on the battlefield.
Then, with a slight thought, the remaining golden thunderclouds in the sky churned again.
Several weaker, but still deadly, lightning bolts struck, silencing the last screams that abruptly stopped.
...…
Finally, complete silence fell over the entire battlefield.
Only the crackling of flames and the smell of wind sweeping over the scorched earth and blood could be heard.
As Gil slowly descended, the light from the light wings behind him gradually dimmed.
Each energy feather, like melting snow, turned into golden sparks of light and dissipated into the air.
When his feet touched the scorched and blood-soaked ground, the golden light in his eyes completely disappeared.
Immediately after, a double sense of exhaustion—both mental and physical—washed over him like a tidal wave.
Everything went dark before his eyes, his body swayed, he could no longer stand, and gently fell backward.
"Divine envoy!"
"My lord! What's wrong?!"
"Quick! Support the divine envoy!"
His followers, watching him intently, rushed forward in amazement.
They hastily supported his limp body, looking at Gil's pale face and tightly closed eyes.
These people, who had just experienced a miracle and narrowly escaped death, could not hold back their tears, their voices full of worry and despair.
"Divine envoy! Wake up! You can't die!"
"By the Sun God, bless the divine envoy!"
At that moment, sparks of warm, pure golden light, like fireflies, detached from Gil's body.
The light slowly gathered and rose not far before him, outlining a tall, humanoid silhouette, composed entirely of soft golden light.
Although the face was blurred, the sacred and vast aura emanating from the figure made all the believers hold their breath and their hearts beat faster.
It was He! The Sun God, who had answered their prayers, performed miracles, and saved them all!
"Worry not. Gil expended much energy carrying my power. He merely needs rest and recovery."
This majestic yet gentle voice sounded directly in the ears of each believer, calming their anxieties.
Seeing the Sun God himself appear to give an explanation, the people supporting Gil breathed a sigh of relief, but their concern remained unchanged.
The others nearby noticed the golden figure the moment it appeared.
Overflowing with unprecedented excitement and reverence, they simultaneously knelt, pressing their foreheads to the cold ground.
"My God! Merciful Sun God!"
"You answered our humble prayers! You saved us from death!"
Glory to You! The highest praise belongs to You!
Sobs, excited and grateful shouts rose and fell.
Karl gently raised his hand and made a "lifting" motion towards the void. Golden light enveloped each of the kneeling believers, steadily raising them.
He slowly turned, surveying the land that had witnessed blood and fire.
His gaze swept over the excited and grateful faces of the survivors, as well as the bodies of the believers who could no longer stand.
In the hearts of each, a silent sigh echoed, as if carrying infinite sorrow.
"The souls of the fallen warriors have gone to their promised resting place, and the underworld will receive these faithful souls…"
"Unfortunately… I have only recently awakened, and my strength is far from restored." He paused, deep regret and helplessness in his voice.
"Otherwise, all the souls who died fighting for their faith should return to the Golden Throne and enjoy my glory."
Hearing this, not only did the believers not complain, but they were even more moved, their eyes filling with tears.
An elderly believer with a scar on his face spoke excitedly, his voice hoarse but incredibly sincere.
"God! You hear the prayers of us common people, and you send miracles in our deepest despair."
"We are already incredibly grateful for your help in saving our comrades and punishing our powerful enemies. What more could we ask for?!"
"Yes, my God!" someone immediately echoed, their voice full of self-reproach and sincerity.
"You used your accumulated, limited divine power to protect us."
"You healed us before and manifested divine power… If this continues, you will exhaust your strength and fall silent again!"
"Please… please revoke these powers! We cannot bear it!"
"Please, turn off your power, my God! Take care of yourself!"