Inside the command room of the destruction-class starship Dawn, a grim, murderous silence hung in the air.
On the massive holographic projection, the ruins of Black Flame Fortress were still burning. Mech Warriors cleared the wreckage and treated the wounded, while the corpses of alien beasts and the wreckage of the Mechanical Empire carpeted the entire area.
Silard stood with his hands behind his back, facing away from everyone.
Inside the command room, one could have heard a pin drop.
Farrow knelt on the floor.
His uniform was torn to shreds, his face smeared with soot and blood, his hair disheveled. There was not the slightest trace left of a legion commander's dignity. His body trembled faintly—whether from fear, rage, or both, no one knew.
Silard finally turned around.
His gaze fell upon Farrow, calm—one could even call it indifferent. Yet beneath that indifference lay a chill that made everyone present feel ice run down their spines.
"Farrow!"
His voice was not loud, yet it struck every heart like a heavy hammer.
"Do you know your crime?"
Farrow's body jolted violently.
He raised his head, his lips quivering. He wanted to defend himself, wanted to say it was Fang Mo's scheme, wanted to say the beast tide's early outbreak had been beyond his control. But when he met Silard's eyes, every word lodged in his throat.
"Three fortresses."
Silard raised three fingers, fury suppressed in his voice.
"All energy cores were destroyed. The defensive shields collapsed across the board. Alien beasts entered the cities. The Third Legion suffered casualties exceeding sixty percent."
With every sentence, he lowered one finger.
His gaze shifted slightly toward the pale orange-gold figure in the corner.
"If Lord Red-Eyed Sword Emperor had not acted in time, the Heaven-Treading Fire Ape and that Scarlet Flame Horned