Josh looked down at his hands. The memories of his time as the high general of the Cartharic Army began to flood his mind. Damage reports, images of battlefields, the dead tanks, and the bodies of US Soldiers he had walked over. There was no time for tears, and no time for guilt on the battlefield, but now?
Then he remembered the last day in Brishan city, how the people in the city looked haggard and restless. He opened his eyes and looked up at Mia.
"Mithrael's divine strength works by drawing strength from the worship of his followers. The way he described it is that the more people who put their faith and pray to him, the stronger he is. Susan can confirm."
Mia narrowed her eyes and looked at Dreha. "So why hasn't Trephania told us about that weakness?"
