"I will not pull any punches, Father," said Lyon, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering. "What she prepared might very well be the one thing that breaks their morale for good."
Aleysius arched a brow. "It's not the Song of Destruction?"
Lyon shook his head with a faint smirk. "No sacrifice this time. When this war ends, I'll still need a land to stand on."
"Then what…?" Aleysius probed, leaning slightly forward.
"I once ruled an empire, Father. A real empire," Lyon said, his words sharp, deliberate. He straightened his posture, his tone resonating with the weight of past glories. "Before I disbanded it for a regretful peace, I was an Emperor—commanding six of the most powerful figures under my wings, each of them commanding legions of formidable cultivators beneath their own."
Aleysius stared, processing the magnitude of his words, but said nothing. Silence settled between them like the calm before a storm.
