Several days later, the capital city—the nation's military and financial core—had become a battlefield.
Smoke drifted between the skyscrapers, curling through streets that only a week ago had been filled with workers, commuters, and traffic.
Now those same roads stood empty, blocked by abandoned vehicles and shattered barricades.
Emergency sirens echoed across districts that had already been partially evacuated, yet millions still remained trapped inside as the fighting unfolded above them.
Dark clouds rotated in massive spirals that stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, constantly churning as lightning flickered within them without pause.
Each flash briefly exposed entire districts in white light before plunging them back into darkness, as if the city itself were blinking under pressure.
At the center of that storm was King of the Skies.
Its wings spanned multiple city blocks, casting a vast shadow over the capital below.
