"I'll start with them," Max said, his voice no longer playful. It was cold now, hard, and filled with the weight of something final. His finger pointed squarely at the dense clusters of soldiers clad in the Monarch's colors.
"They're the ones, aren't they?" he continued, his gaze sliding back to Drevon. "The ones who slaughtered city after city in the Central Region to weaken the foundation of this continent for you, to build a citadel for your Monarch. Who burned homes. Who hunted children. Who painted the rivers red with the blood of innocent people."
He paused, his expression calm—too calm.
