A massacre. That was what Klain arrived to witness. Coming out of the depth of the ocean of energy, he saw the army he was the general of in shambles, barely holding on under the assault of an enemy more than twice as numerous as them. And that was with a threat of the same level, even if more numerous. And looking at the part of the enemy fleet that had yet to move in to engage, there was no doubt on the existence of higher level threats at Level 6, or worse.
His face changed, his expression going through a small palette of emotions that included apprehension and hesitation, then, in the next second, his expression hardened, because as despairing as the situation was, it was not unexpected, no, far from that. It was just the worst, nothing more.
Looking beyond the battlefield, there was only the goal of either side, and it remained undisturbed, with no trace of any reinforcement at all.
A shadow flashed through Klain's eyes. Gritting his teeth, he coldly barked out:
