"Kloros! How could you, how could you..." The Elder Chief roared like a lion, his eyes bloodshot.
Of the Ryan Race's hundreds of thousands of warriors, fewer than one in ten had escaped. They had been all but annihilated.
And the architect of it all was Kloros, who faced him with perfect composure.
Kloros merely gave the frantic Elder Chief a cold glance.
"If your warriors hadn't tied down their main fleet, we could never have achieved such a glorious victory. These... were necessary sacrifices!"
Necessary sacrifices?!
Even if they had warned him just an hour or two earlier, the Ryan Race's casualties could never have been this devastating!
The Locke Conglomerate had discarded its hunting dogs the moment the hunt was over!
Had those brave warriors fallen while charging into battle, the Elder Chief could have reluctantly accepted it, despite his grief. Dying on the battlefield was a warrior's fate.
But their deaths in such a blatant conspiracy finally drove the Elder Chief, who had endured humiliation for so long, into despair.
If the figure before him hadn't merely been Kloros's communication projection, the Elder Chief would have rushed over and torn him to pieces.
"You..."
"Enough! This discussion ends here. The Conglomerate will naturally provide some compensation for your fallen warriors. And let me remind you: your families are still on Ryan Star..."
With that unmistakable threat, Kloros cut off the transmission.
"Sir, won't this provoke the Ryan Race into rebelling? Their patriarch's eyes were full of hatred just now."
The adjutant beside him had watched the entire exchange. Only after Kloros ended the transmission did he voice his concern.
"Hmph! Rebellion without strength is nothing but suicide!
Still, they really are of little use now. Send a fleet to escort them back to Ryan Star under guard.