Berolt stood before the command center’s central viewing window. before him lay Kahilder, 7th moon of the gas giant Revu in the Odul system.

it was once home to one of the most respected races in the system. mostly peaceful, but adept, and highly capable in war-time environments.

now? it was nothing but rubble. razed. glassed. reduced to ash so that not even memories could grow.

truth be told, Berolt didn’t enjoy campaigns like this. in his previous life, he was a history buff, a cultural connoisseur, and he felt he would’ve enjoyed exchanging rituals with the people of Kahilder.

but not now. not in this life. after the War of Vontuul, something in him changed. he grew cold. hard. his heart was stone, his eyes steel. the only thing he cared about was if his sword was sharp enough to remove a head in one swing. all else was a waste of thought.