The next day, global media erupted.
In CN's live broadcast studio, the host's voice was hoarse:
"We are witnessing history—history never seen before.
A nation ranked among the world's top five in GDP and top ten in military strength has vanished from the map."
The footage switched to the waters around Footpan Chicken. A military transport plane carrying cameras circled along the edge of the volcanic ash, its live signal reaching the world in intermittent bursts.
On camera, the entire island nation lay buried beneath volcanic ash. Crimson lava stood out glaringly in the darkness, while the once-prosperous land slowly sank.
BC ran a blood-red headline: "An Inhumane Massacre! Eighty-two meteors struck eighty-two volcanoes with precision.
"This was a weapon, not a natural disaster!"
The commentator's voice trembled:
"We must determine who had such capabilities and who had such motives. The answer is obvious."
On Twitter, topics such as "Rabbit Nation's Crimes," "Boycott Rabbit Nation," and "Avenge Footpan Chicken" dominated the trending lists.
A Bald Eagle congressman roared during a livestream, "This is a crime! We must unite all civilized nations and launch a full boycott against Rabbit Nation!"
The comments below all said the same thing: "Who dares?" "Who dares?" No one could answer.
At that moment, the entire world's attention was fixed on Rabbit Nation.
That evening, Rabbit Nation's press conference.
At three in the afternoon, Upper Capital's press hall was packed. Hundreds of reporters crammed into every corner, their cameras aimed at the podium. The tension had reached its peak.
Mr. Guo, dressed in a dark suit, walked steadily onto the stage.
Camera flashes instantly lit up the hall, while shutters rattled like a torrential downpour.
He stopped, swept his gaze across the room, and spoke in a calm, powerful voice:
"Good afternoon, fellow journalists.
"Welcome to