Narud, that old scoundrel, is full of wicked schemes

"Did you hear that, Amon? The Empire is not so easily crushed."

With a furious roar from Faraday, commander of the Korhal Defense Force, in the command center, the foul red clouds shrouding Augustgrad finally receded, abruptly revealing a stretch of azure sky, where white clouds gleamed beneath the golden sunlight.

Once the dark clouds dispersed, a desolate scene was reflected in people's eyes. The once-neat streets lay in ruins, their surfaces pitted with craters and embedded with enormous shell casings that shocked the eye. Augustgrad's grand towers, statues, and monuments tilted and collapsed amid rising columns of black smoke. The magnificent railways, switches, and bridges surrounding the city had crumbled in sections, lying across the back of that black dragon like broken vertebrae.

Many areas looked as though they had been scorched by fire. Smoke and clouds of dust blocked the sunlight from reaching the ground. Damaged homes, facilities, and roads urgently needed repairs. Traffic was obstructed, and public transportation had been forced to shut down, but compared with the severe challenges Augustgrad faced after the disaster, these were only a drop in the bucket.

But no matter what, nothing could be worse than Korhal had been ten years ago. Back then, all they had inherited was a wasteland radiating radioactive dust, where not even an intact stone could be found amid the shattered earth.

As the first residents gradually returned to their homes, Imperial soldiers from various combat units still guarded key transportation routes. Massive mechs could be seen striding past the windows without pause, making the ground and windowpanes rattle.

Separated by matte visors and cockpit canopies, people could not clearly see the soldiers' faces or hear their voices. Thus, they all seemed silent and calm.

Compared with the city's losses, the civilian casualties were even more