Commander Fitz's gaze slowly swept across everyone in the conference room, and an invisible pressure filled the air.
He folded his hands on the table, his voice low yet carrying unquestionable authority. "I called you all here today to solve the problem of our repeated failure to retake the fortresses at Two Mountains, Blackstone, and elsewhere."
The moment he finished speaking, a Great Warrior clad in yellow-red Enchanted Armament rose to his feet, urgency in his voice. "Sir, the slow progress truly isn't our fault! The Demons' offensive is too fierce. They're practically insane."
"Unless we commit more manpower, there's no way we can reclaim the lost territory!" His voice rang out loudly, carrying a trace of unwillingness, while helplessness over the war flickered in his eyes.
The other Great Warriors also chimed in, each recounting their own difficulties.
Some mentioned that the Demons' surprise attacks were far more frequent than expected. Some complained that logistical supplies could not keep up. Others muttered about the unusual activity of magical beast nests.
Their voices carried exhaustion and frustration, but their points were largely the same: emphasizing external difficulties and trying to defend themselves.
Fitz said nothing throughout it all. His fingers merely tapped rhythmically against the tabletop, producing soft tapping sounds.
Each tap seemed to strike at everyone's heartstrings, making the atmosphere in the conference room increasingly oppressive.
Ang sat to one side, silently observing Fitz's expression. He noticed a flash of impatience in Fitz's eyes.
He secretly speculated, These Great Warriors were probably all the people responsible for losing the First Defense Line fortresses back then.
"How was the First Defense Line lost?" Fitz finally spoke, his voice as low and cold as a winter wind.
"Every one of you here bears responsibility. Now that you've been told to take