In the vast expanse of the Milky Way Galaxy, on planet Earth, war raged relentlessly.
Delvin stood at the helm of his newly acquired fleet-twelve hundred airships, sleek and battle-worn, hovering like a metallic storm above the battlefield in the North east wing. The command deck was alive with flickering control panels, holo-maps projecting the chaos beneath, and the distant hum of engines holding the massive fleet aloft.
Yet, despite the undeniable power now at his fingertips, an unsettling weight settled in his chest.
He scanned the war maps with a practiced eye, studying every inch of the carnage raging below. His forces were winning. That much was clear. The enemy was crumbling faster than anticipated. But victory did not always come cleanly.
His fingers danced across the console, activating a direct channel to Fabrice Targan, the commander spearheading the ground assault.
"Status report," Delvin ordered, his voice sharp with urgency.
