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  • “Are you fucking out of your mind?!” Arni’s anger was beyond recognition.
  • Frustration mirrored on those orbs, which had become a stranger to him, Valerian was. The extent of how worst had he become he least expected to. Thus far, never had he seen him exploding in a frenzy state, of delirium cause by whatever he had saw or to what he fear that Valerian urged their people to attack Salem. The Kingdom crumbles underneath their weapon. Nobody saw it coming. The canons are sent flying until it hit the roof. The gates, which stood high, and firm, came into ruins. Debris fell in a rapid burst of fire—silvers, leaving the wolves who had tried to block their path wounded, severely injured, if not dead.
  • More fire was starting up.
  • “This should be done.” Valerian through gritted teeth uttered.
  • The attacks were pinging off into shards of metal-like raindrops hitting tin roof as they fell harder from the sky. There are hundreds of them, women, men and warriors who join in hand, the rebels of the fallen humanity before. Blood fed the ground. There are screams, which do not belongs on their side. The plan may have come in haste—rushed through Valerian’s order, in spite of the questions they continuously asked.
  • “Why?” The same thing that keeps Arni to keep enclosed to the latter, but he had gotten none.
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