From the high sanctuary of his palace, Idore watched the carnage unfold with the detached fascination of a god. The control center was alive with flickering displays, each one fed by the high-altitude lenses embedded within the moving towers. He had a better angle than any battlefield commander—a panoramic, multi-angled view that allowed him to see every drop of sweat and every flinch of pain on his enemies' faces.
He saw the crushing weight of the struggle etched into Raze's features. He watched the allies—once hopeful, now battered—staggering under the relentless pressure of Turbin's unseen strikes and the golems' steady march. When the large vortex of dust and shadow finally erupted, blocking even his god-like view, Idore couldn't help but lean into his communication device. He wasn't satisfied with a quiet victory; he wanted to destroy Raze's spirit before he destroyed his body.
