On Verne World, where high-altitude dust never settled, even the great sea was shrouded in a hazy, grey mist.
The ocean, which should have been a brilliant blue from space, had long ago turned murky and foul from the pollution of industrial exhaust.
The fires of war burned across the land.
Billowing smoke plumed toward the heavens.
Landing beacons deploying Demons intertwined with the reinforcements of the Imperial Legion. Pillars of light repeatedly flared up in Verne's sky and across its surface.
Raphael gazed down upon the home planet where he had once lived and fought, for which he had bled. He could even clearly see the towering, cloud-piercing Upper City District and Governor's Mansion of the stereoscopic city of Verne.
He lifted his head, staring at the Imperial Rebel Army ship that had emerged from the Void Storm and was now flying toward them.
His right hand clenched into a tight fist.
