Derrick Elliot and Amalfi Gerard had been nursing a grudge ever since Meshal demoted them.
They had never believed those few defeats were their own fault. Instead, they blamed them on Meshal's lack of judgment!
What if they'd been given a few more troops?
What if their equipment and vehicles had been better?
What if they'd had a little more luck?
But unfortunately, while Meshal was in power, they were constantly overlooked. They had been demoted from legion commanders all the way down to mere squad leaders in the True Born Son warrior regiment. Meanwhile, plenty of people from humbler backgrounds and weaker families had been promoted again and again!
They had built up a deep resentment toward Meshal, convinced that this nobleman from a minor family had always been targeting them, the great nobles.
That changed today. Hernandez had personally promoted them and appointed them legion commanders. At last, they could hold their heads high.
The two men led four full-strength elite Marauder Groups under the Iron Thorn Conspiracy Group, advancing toward the Ghost Rail and Iron Thorn Spine with complete confidence.
While they were on the way, they suddenly received a secret communication from the Grand Arbiter, Meshal.
"Hold our position and don't move?"
Derrick looked at the order, and a wave of displeasure rose in his heart.
"Ha! Who does that old man think he is?" Amalfi sneered as he read the message. He spat on the ground and scoffed. "Everyone knows Lord Hernandez can't stand him anymore. He's an old relic who'll be out of power sooner or later. How dare he order us around?"
"Exactly. That damned old man really thinks he's something, doesn't he?" Derrick joined in, laughing mockingly. "He wasted so many resources and couldn't even take a pathetic place like Pain's Nest.