Hye had offered them a choice—a bridge of mercy that led away from the precipice. He had given the disparate forces of the sector ample time and a fair chance to retreat, to vanish into the dark of space and preserve their lineages.
Yet, those blinded by the glitter of their own hubris and the false security of their numbers had chosen to walk willingly into their graves.
Hye watched the tactical feed with the cold, detached eye of a reaper. He didn't intend to let a single one of them walk away now. His gaze wasn't just on the tactical victory; he was eyeing the grand harvest of bones and high-level inventories that would litter the void once the plasma cooled. Every fallen enemy was a resource, and he was a master of recycling death.
