"Why don't we... run?"
The house was beautiful—or, for the sake of argument, let's call it beautiful. At the very least, it was far better than an ordinary person's home. It was clearly a decent villa.
Whether in design or style, its designer didn't seem local. Instead, they seemed to be from the Federation, with a more modern style.
The warlord certainly wasn't its first owner. Its true owner might have left the city long ago, or even the country. They might also have stayed behind forever.
Regardless, the villa was now occupied by the ruler of this area.
The officers in the room voiced their opinions one after another. When "Sanchez" announced that he intended to head north, they realized that this had to be a Federation plot.
The warlord didn't consider himself a match for the Federation. Not long ago, when everyone had gathered in the capital for the cause of peace, he had also discussed the threat Sanchez posed to him and the entire country.
But no one had listened to him. Everyone did whatever they wanted. He had always felt that one day, Sanchez would send troops into his territory.
And now, it had happened. Sanchez had come.
It was obvious that the officers didn't want to fight.
They simply couldn't win.
Previously, quite a few warlords had joined forces to snipe at the Federation forces, but it had accomplished nothing in practice. Instead, it had shown everyone what Carpet Bombing meant.
Those densely packed bombs fell from the sky like rain. No one could escape them. In the end, people left this world carrying regret and hatred.
The warlord sat in his seat with a grim expression. Those fools made it sound simple: run.
But where could they run to?
The surrounding area was filled