Spoils Beneath the Bronze Fist

The battlefield still breathes. Dust drifts through the broken ranks of stone, hot metal ticks as it cools, and the air tastes of copper beneath the lingering thunder of divine power. Where the god of strength struck the earth, the ground has folded into a crater of glassy rubble. Among snapped weapons and crushed standards, the survivors find coinage, gemstones, healing draughts, and fragments of impossible metal. Nothing here feels abandoned. Each relic trembles toward the horizon, as though the defeated moment has not yet finished moving.