Nothing was going according to plan. Not a single maneuver managed to shift the momentum of the battle, let alone stem the catastrophic losses bleeding his armada dry. If anything, the nightmare was only getting worse.
Damn you, old man!" White Kalen complained from within the sea of consciousness. "Here I thought you were someone great, a true genius with real talent in commanding fleets and armadas. But looking at this—"
White Kalen didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was glaring: your previous enemies were simply too weak. Against fodder you might shine, but against someone truly formidable...
Dark Soul clenched his teeth hard.
Frustrating as it was, he didn't refute the jab. On some level, it held a grain of truth, and he couldn't afford to waste energy arguing about pride right now.
