It was impossible to tell whether it was day or night.
Only faint afterglow shone through the shattered sky. More prominent were the blazing red fires and thick smoke rising from the ground. No rain fell from the gathering clouds.
Only burning ash descended upon the earth, along with dust rising from it.
Everything in the Sacred Capital seemed shrouded in that ambiguous gray-black haze, as though strangled beneath a gray blanket, struggling hideously and convulsing. Even the cries of grief and roars of rage had become indistinct.
Only the endless crashes of collapse and thunderous explosions remained so clear. Mixed with screams and wails, they pierced ruptured eardrums and echoed through skulls and brains.
When another tremendous blast erupted with a shell falling in the distance, everyone behind the makeshift barricade had already fallen numb and blank. Only the person clutching the radio continued reporting, choking as he begged for help.
More people, those huddled in the corners, had already stopped breathing. Their pale faces merely stared blankly at the sky.
"Hold on!"
The man on the radio roared, "Two minutes! Just a little longer—we'll be there immediately!"
"There aren't two minutes left! Everyone's going to die, damn it—"
The communications officer choked out, "Where are the reinforcements? Where the hell are the reinforcements? Those Legion bastards are about to burn this whole place down!"
"Two minutes, two minutes!"
Yuan Zhao shouted hoarsely through the radio, but the voice on the other end was no longer clear. He could vaguely hear muddled curses and one final cry.
In the end, there were no other sounds.
He gritted his teeth, threw away the radio, and accelerated, charging against the main battle tank's barrage. The great shield raised in his hand trembled and groaned beneath the shrieking hail of shells.
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