"…Who is responsible for this massacre?!" Richard roared the moment he stepped into the command chamber, his voice echoing so violently that even the reinforced walls seemed to tremble under its weight.
Seeing one hundred and twenty thousand loyal soldiers slaughtered in such a horrific way—like helpless ants waiting for their turn to die, stripped of dignity, of purpose, of even the chance to resist—made the blood boil fiercely in his veins.
For a moment, he nearly forgot everything he had ever learned, almost letting rage and despair seize full control of him, threatening to push him into a state where reason simply ceased to exist.
