In the Vandorian command center, a sense of urgency palpitated through the air as a soldier, breathless and wide-eyed, burst into a meeting of high-ranking commanders and Prince Victor. Without hesitation, he knelt, his voice laced with alarm, "Prince Victor, we are under attack."
His announcement sent a ripple of murmurs across the room. "From who?" demanded one of the commanders, his brow furrowed in concern.
"It's the core beasts from the mountain. They're storming the barracks by the hundreds. We've erected barricades, but..." The soldier's voice faltered, his expression a vivid portrait of fear and despair. "...but it won't hold them back. There are simply too many."
To his surprise, and contrary to the gravity of his news, the commanders exchanged light chuckles, a response that seemed unsettlingly out of place. It was as though the prospect of such an attack was not only anticipated but welcomed.
