"You have better things? What could you possibly have to do on Verillion, a planet torn apart by centuries of war? I apologize, but we do not have resorts here." Darvion tried to stay calm, but the edge of anger leaked through unmistakably.
To him, everything unfolding was an insult—no, the greatest insult he had suffered in tens of thousands of years. Yet his survival instinct forced him to listen to the end; the battle's reversal in a matter of minutes made every word a matter of life and death.
"…My men have already spread out to search for a secure area and to begin building an underground city; you must have heard." Sakaar replied indirectly. "When we finish, I want you to instruct the corpse-collection teams not to burn the bodies but to bring them to the city gates and leave them there."
"All those corpses?" Darvion gestured toward the Shallow Land—the riverbed had risen noticeably, water replaced by blood and mud by flesh. "What are you going to do with all of that?"
