Sena, Butare, inside the President's Mansion.
The shattered concrete dust fell like gray snow, softly landing on President Du Er's previously impeccable, graying temples.
Just moments ago, Song Heping had ordered mortar attacks on the rooftop of the President's Mansion, killing over a dozen Guards members who were using the terrain to put up a desperate resistance.
Now, President Du Er's already dwindling number of Guard soldiers was further diminished to almost nothing.
He sat stiffly behind the massive mahogany desk that symbolized power, his expensive suit covered in dust, resembling a statue of a deity abandoned in ruins.
The luxurious Persian carpet in the office was lifted at one corner by the vibrations, and the crystal chandelier swung wildly, casting fragmented and flickering shadows.
The air was filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder and a scorched aroma of dust burned by high heat.