Thousands of miles across the mountains, smoke billowed into the scorching sky above the Third Continent.
Chris Pitt lounged on a massive throne carved from sandstone and gold. He rested his boots casually on the back of a kneeling palace guard. Megan sat on the armrest beside him. She examined her perfectly manicured nails. The grand throne room surrounding them had been reduced to a complete slaughterhouse.
Two Fourth Continent soldiers dragged the local monarch across the blood-soaked marble floor, violently throwing the weeping King of the Sun-Spear directly at Chris's feet.
"Please," the local king sobbed, pressing his face against the stone. "We surrender the city. Spare the citizens."
Chris let out a loud, exaggerated yawn before stretching his arms over his head.
"We already gave you a chance to surrender yesterday," Chris said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Now we have to make an example out of you. Megan, do you want this one?"
