If our situation does not change—and soon—then with our limited and rapidly dwindling supply of raw materials, it will become impossible to maintain even our current stalemate at the front. And if that happens… the possibility of a comeback will vanish completely."
"All in all," the Goddess of War said, her voice heavy, "saying we are barely surviving this war… is no exaggeration."
Her glowing blue eyes swept across the Council Chamber. Most members—except for a few—now wore sober, serious expressions. They understood the weight behind her words, the reality she was laying bare before them.
"And if even that fragile balance is taken from us…" she trailed off, letting the silence speak for her.
No one needed her to finish the sentence. The meaning was clear. If the last threads holding them together—raw materials, vital manpower—were cut, the Federation would collapse.
