A murderous hush hung over the command room of the destruction-class starship Daybreak.
On the enormous holographic projection, the ruins of Black Flame Fortress were still burning. Mecha Warriors cleared the rubble and treated the wounded, while Mutant Beast corpses and the wreckage of the Mechanical Empire littered the entire area.
Silad stood with his hands clasped behind his back, facing away from everyone.
In the command room, a falling pin could have been heard.
Farrow knelt on the floor.
His uniform was in tatters, his face smeared with soot and blood, his hair disheveled. Not a trace of a legion commander's dignity remained. His body trembled slightly, whether from fear, rage, or both.
Silad finally turned around.
His gaze settled on Farrow, calm, almost indifferent, yet beneath that indifference lay a chill that sent shivers down the spine of everyone present.
"Farrow!"
His voice was not loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.
"Do you acknowledge your guilt?"
Farrow's body shook violently.
He raised his head, his lips moving. He wanted to defend himself, to say it had been Fang Mo's scheme, to say the Beast Tide's early eruption had been beyond his control. But when he met Silad's eyes, every word lodged in his throat.
"Three fortresses."
Silad held up three fingers, his voice tight with suppressed anger.
"Every energy core destroyed, every Defense Shield disabled, Mutant Beasts inside the cities, and the Third Legion's combat losses exceeding sixty percent."
With each part of his statement, he lowered a finger.
His gaze shifted slightly toward the pale orange-gold figure in the corner.
"Had Lord Chi Tong not intervened in time, the Sky-Treading Fire Ape and that scarlet-flame horned eagle would have claimed the lives of at least three more level-six War Kings."
Farrow's face turned