The former commander of the Iron Army Coalition, the Pallayan Blackros, was also making his way through a remote corner of the Great Pulse Wasteland. Though he had never formally submitted his resignation to the Coalition government, he was indeed a former commander. Before this operation, he had made preparations: if he ever had to reveal his identity, his resignation letter would be automatically sent to the Iron Army Coalition's central government. Of course, he had also prepared a heartfelt, logically coherent confession that included his identity.
That should count as turning myself in, right? If I can't make it in the organization someday, maybe I can get my sentence reduced when I go home. I might even get some kind of pension.
Blackros avoided the rift valley near the planet's equator, doing his best to keep away from it. Using his spatial-jump ability, he kept heading toward the distant mountains, and soon the snow-covered peaks came into view.
But prolonged spatial manipulation took a heavy toll, even on a sixth-ring "Explorer" psionic. Blackros was already feeling intense fatigue and pain.
What was more, he was already injured. Just half an hour ago, he'd taken a blast from an ion cannon, and a light spear had sliced a large chunk of flesh off him.
Blackros felt distinctly dizzy. He knew that if he kept this up, his psionic energy would run out, and he might black out on the spot. Falling asleep in that state would take much longer to recover from than simply running out of stamina. If he really slept himself into oblivion and got dragged off and eaten by a wolf, it would be a joke fit to last until the next cosmic era.
The Pallayan had already put a great distance between himself and the battlefield