What the hell? What was going on? What had happened?
When the sight of the surging black tide appeared on countless probe screens, Yegor's bloodshot eyes felt increasingly dry.
Darkness washed over both his vision and his mind.
Even without being able to witness the scene firsthand or feel the impact about to arrive, he could imagine the devastation and destruction that would soon unfold from the observation data and emergency reports—
But why had it turned out like this?
Hadn't they said the situation was stable? Weren't they still preparing a counteroffensive? Had all that funding for the Bronze Eye's observations been spent on bonfires? Why hadn't the depth observation teams sent out an early warning?
If roaring and shouting had not been useless, he would have long since started pounding the table in rage.
He simply instinctively wanted to find someone responsible for everything that was about to happen.
But regrettably, even he knew that he was merely trying to escape reality.
Before this, a stronger instinct had already taken control of him.
Like a stress response, habits etched into his bones wiped away hesitation, panic, and unease, perfectly dividing his consciousness in two. One half struggled and wandered amid anger and worry, while the other took command of his body.
To fulfill his duty.
Just as he ought to do now, he became a stamp machine of terrifying efficiency without a second thought, using the authority granted by the Present Realm to issue one new order and directive after another.
From approving the upload and deployment of temporary defensive frameworks in the Silver Sea, to altering the status of the border defense line, delegating authority to grant the frontline command centers the greatest autonomy, issuing instructions for the highest-level risk alert, and passing emergency conscription notices for