"Ahhh! Why! Why is this happening! The attacker hasn't been found!
The city has been dealt another heavy blow!
Clearly, he could have used magic to keep bombing us! Why didn't he do this from the start? Is he toying with us? What does he take us for?
My city... my city! It's over!"
In the basement, under the soft lights, Viscount Ireland let out an incredibly wretched howl, collapsing to the ground with tears of pain and desperation.
Having just learned of the losses and casualties, he was nearly on the verge of collapse. He could foresee how many more residents would leave the city by tomorrow morning.
If this trend isn't stopped.
Even if the city's residents aren't all burned to death, they'd most likely all flee!
Then Ireland City would become a ghost town!
And he, the Viscount, would be nothing but a figurehead!
"Send someone! Send someone to notify His Majesty the King! Have His Majesty request the Legendary Mage Saint Maier! Only he! Only he can save us now!"
