The aftermath of the battlefield was a scene of utter carnage, with bodies strewn everywhere.
Exploded vehicles littered around, slowly churning out smoke. Lifeless heads lay near the tyres of the vehicles.
The orange-looking sky was now a shade of ash, looking like it was slowly burning.
Emperor Julian stared at the scene, on his face an indifferent expression.
It was done. It was over.
He was thrust into the middle of a planetary war and without preparation had won.
He must have been feeling bloated with praise. But then, he wasn't.
Of course, there was a burning sensation in his heart of accomplishment, he just couldn't accept it.
But, he, Julian, the galactic knight, had conquered another planet entirely.
Entirely that he would not only rule against Drayyors, but then, against Hellfott.
He didn't know about this galaxy. He didn't know the texture of what he was about to face.
But he gazumped on victory and sullied his earlier deadly fate.
