Walking out of the spaceship, a blue and white energy shield automatically surged on the surface of his body, isolating the surrounding high-temperature radiation.
In front of him, a luxurious spaceship, two-thirds of which was already wrecked, floated on the crimson crystal.
Some materials that couldn't withstand high temperatures had melted into liquid, with only the basic framework barely holding on under the high-temperature radiation, but even it had turned crimson.
His subordinates, dressed in high-temperature-resistant combat uniforms, had cleared out several dried and charred corpses.
Among them, one was particularly conspicuous, singled out and shrunk to almost only one-fifth of its original size.
"Bertrand..." Clarkson's figure descended, his eyes filled with sorrow.
