Late afternoon sunlight poured across the grand rooftop terrace of Municipal Hall, casting golden rays over the thousands of celebrating citizens gathered in the plaza below.
Blue and silver Citadel banners billowed in the crisp mountain wind alongside the emerald flags of the Feselian Royal Enclave.
In his private interface, Nox read the decrypting cosmic message from the outer stars with a calm, amused smirk:
[ Interstellar Transmission: High Crucible Arena ]
[ From: The Lord of Carnage ]
[ Message: "A magnificent execution, mortal! The high syndicates lost over ten billion credits betting on Rook's survival! We will watch your future conquests with immense pleasure!" ]
"Let them watch," the young commander murmured, closing the cosmic interface with a single dismissive wave of his hand.
"Our world is not their gambling table."
"Look at the galactic betting indices," Diana remarked with a grin from her portable terminal.
