He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a god. He was an apex predator who didn't care about anything except his bottom line.
Korgath couldn't speak, but he didn't need to.
The warlord slowly, painfully bowed his head until his forehead touched the muddy cobblestones.
He tapped his remaining functioning optic implant, sending a wide-band absolute surrender signal to his entire fleet.
Across the city, the massive rusted dreadnoughts powered down their weapons.
The thousands of pirate thugs dropped their rifles and chain axes into the mud.
The hostile takeover was officially complete.
The heavy clatter of hundreds of weapons hitting the ground echoed across the Margin.
The invasion was over.
Arthur Sterling stood in the muddy street, casually wiping a smudge of black oil off the blade of his Ebonheart Sword before sliding it back into the scabbard on his back.
He didn't look at Korgath, who was still kneeling in the dirt, completely broken.
