Three months had passed since then.
In that short span of time, the world had begun to shift.
The Principality of Cohona was no more.
It had been officially and utterly erased from the map by the relentless, iron hand of the Republic of Andras.
It wasn't just a conquest.
It was a massacre.
One of the bloodiest and most brutal military takeovers recorded in history.
Almost half of Cohona's population had been executed where they stood—men, women, children—it didn't matter.
And those unfortunate enough to be captured weren't spared either.
They were lined up, trembling and broken, and gunned down in cold blood by organized firing squads that showed no hesitation.
What remained of the principality was reduced to smoldering ashes and silence.
The balance of global power trembled.
A new monster had stepped onto the stage.
Small countries began to shake, like prey sensing the arrival of a predator.
Fear was no longer paranoia.
It was logical.
