Christers Base, at this moment, had plunged into extreme chaos.
A large number of soldiers hurriedly surged out of the barracks, gathering on the open ground, blankly looking around alongside their leading junior officers. On the tarmac, numerous activated Mechas emitted the sound of metal friction as their mechanical components extended. However, they too had received no orders. Fighter jets, rapidly launched from hidden ejection ports, hovered in the air. The pilots, listening to the chaotic communications and staring at the empty radar screens, were at a loss.
There was no massive invasion. Nothing at all. Was this just an exercise?
Everything seemed so bizarre.
Stephen's body had already been carried into the small building.
Duke Victor stood quietly by the window of the small building, his back facing his nephew's body, watching the chaotic scene outside the base, as if he had suddenly aged ten years.
