"Narud is dead already?" Kerrigan blinked.
"Isn't he a Xel'Naga?"
In Kerrigan's view, there should originally have been a moving continent formed from tens of thousands of void celestial bodies, with an area at least twenty times that of Augustgrad.
But now, like a smashed cookie, that region contained only countless fragments of rock, even finer than the meteors in the Revanscar asteroid belt, drifting everywhere like windblown dust.
Such power was enough to shatter planets. If there had once been anything that could be called a living creature there, it had surely been reduced to dust by that excessively saturated firepower. It was like draining an entire ocean just to kill one fish.
If Narud had something that could be called a health bar, he was now at least hundreds of thousands of damage in the red.
Even more ironically, if that was the case, Narud had, to some extent, been killed by weapons he himself had helped create. After all, he had made indelible contributions to the Empire's technological development.
No one had ever been more selfless or asked for less in return than Narud.
Augustus could offer him gold, silver, and treasures, and he would refuse them all. All he wanted was a little red flower.
"Matt, hit him with another round." Augustus still had not seen the imprisoned Ouros escape, so he assumed Narud was not dead yet.
"Your Majesty, the scanners indicate that there is nothing left there now. Our gunners need a target, or they can only fire blindly." Matt calmly reminded his emperor.
"In this void, your senses can deceive you, instruments can malfunction, and even intuition cannot be trusted." Augustus strongly suspected Narud was playing some sort of trick on him, though there was certainly a bit of personal grudge mixed in.