The Priestess frowned. "If that's the case, the tragedy on Taris will keep happening again and again..."
Darth Malthael merely sneered coldly. "Don't worry. The Galactic Empire isn't like those muscle-brained Mandalorian Crusaders. They'll keep the Rakghouls under control."
The spacecraft landed amid the ruins of Taris's Upper City. This area had suffered the worst damage during the Orbital Bombardment. The city had nearly been blasted into rubble, leaving only countless broken walls and shattered remnants to display its former prosperity.
They arrived at one of the passages leading underground. It had already been blown apart, and numerous warning signs had been placed around it to remind people not to enter. Crooked blood-red paint spelled out many chilling messages.
This leads to hell!
Everyone who went down died!
There are countless demons underground!
Not even your bones will remain!
Yet above the passage, there was still a man-made opening. It was not large, only wide enough for two or three people to enter at once.
It seemed that after four thousand years, many people had forgotten the terror of the Rakghouls—or perhaps adventurers who had heard the legends of the Taris underground city simply did not take them seriously. There were still people willing to take the risk.
After all, Taris had once been immensely prosperous, and the wealth gathered there had been astronomical. Even after the planet entered a decline that lasted two hundred years, the upper-class nobles and wealthy families still possessed enormous fortunes.
When the Sith Empire began its Orbital Bombardment, those people had initially carried staggering amounts of wealth with them as they fled into the underground city. But afterward, the people from the Upper City flooded into the Lower City, where they encountered thugs, beggars, and criminals from below—and then the Rakghouls...
During that process,