Having just fully sealed the Ten-Tails and stabilized himself, Hagoromo began to grow stronger at a tremendous pace.
But the great battle had still left him exhausted in both body and mind.
He had intended to rest where he was for a while, regulate his breathing, and settle the restless Ten-Tails within him.
Just then, a group of utterly bedraggled figures slowly approached along a ruined mountain path in the distance.
They were the Five Elders, who had risked their lives to contain Hara until the decisive battle ended, along with the surviving members of the allied army of Celestial Dragons and Knights.
But the sight that greeted them instantly cast a pall over the entire battlefield.
The once-mighty allied army, whose ranks had numbered in the tens of thousands, had been reduced to a mere few dozen people.
All of them were physically intact. After all, there was no such thing as being wounded by Hara.
Yet their vitality had ebbed to its lowest point. Every face was haggard and deathly pale, every pair of eyes harboring boundless grief and lifelessness.
Even the Five Elders, once lofty and imposing, had lost every trace of their bearing as rulers. Disheveled from head to toe, they no longer looked like men who held power.
Of that vast allied army, only a few dozen had survived to the end.
Those few dozen battered survivors stood on the devastated wasteland, looking especially forlorn and frail.
Looking at the handful of survivors before him, Hagoromo felt a pang of sorrow. He spoke softly, his voice hoarse from battle but sincere.
"Thank you for everything you did."
"If you hadn't risked your lives to contain Hara, holding her back and keeping her from reinforcing the battlefield, my brother and I could never have focused on