The hatch of a dark, streamlined aircraft, like a Ghost Shadow, slid open without a sound. Li Wen slipped inside.
The moment he was secure in his seat, the engines erupted with a low roar. An intense stream of blue-white particles spewed from the aircraft's tail, tearing through the night sky as it sped south.
He'd grown accustomed to these rapid-response missions over the last six months.
Racing from one battlefield to the next had not only honed his combat skills to a razor's edge but had also tempered the steel of his resolve.
But not every desperate flight ended in victory.
He had arrived a step too late far too many times.
Amid the rubble and ruins: the cold bodies of his comrades, the scorched earth littered with the violated corpses of civilians…
These images weighed on his soul like lead, stoking the cold hatred for the Demon Race deep within him into a raging inferno.
This time, the alert was code red—the highest level. It meant… the garrison was likely doomed.
