(7 Days After Juxta's Fall, Planet Tithia, Veyr's POV)
The atmosphere inside the Tithia Civil Hall was heavy and silent, a stillness that weighed upon every soul present.
The tall, stone-walled chamber that once echoed with debates and policy now felt like a tomb, filled only with the sound of shallow breaths and anxious hearts.
Veyr sat at the head of the long table, his black eyes reflecting the dim light of the mana lamps above, as around him stood the local elders of Tithia, the ones who had not yet been evacuated for they did not fall into Leo's phase one of evacuation.
However, while they stayed back, half the planet's population was already gone, having been either successfully transported into the Time-Stilled World or having fled to neutral territories using what little money they had.
But even so, billions still remained.
Billions who looked towards Veyr for salvation, though they understood in their hearts that he couldn't save them all.
*Creek*
At this moment, the door to the town hall creaked open as the scout arrived with the much anticipated report from the frontier planets.
"My Lord," he said quietly, his voice trembling despite his attempts to remain composed, "I'm sorry to report this, but planets Koral and Vorthas have also fallen to the Righteous Fleet, making them the next victims after Nemo, Merdith and Rayon."
The words struck the room like a guillotine chopping one's neck.
On one hand they knew this was bound to happen, yet to hear it being confirmed still left a bad taste in their mouths.
"Our residual forces fought bravely," the scout continued, lowering his gaze. "But in the end, they could only hold for a couple of hours before being completely annihilated."
He said, as pin drop silence enveloped the room.
The kind that screamed louder than any sound.
Veyr closed his eyes for a moment, steadying the turmoil building inside him before asking quietly, "So how many died?"
The scout hesitated, swallowing hard before answering.
"They annihilated Koral completely, my Lord. Just like Juxta. Perhaps they saw no economic value in it... and hence, all Cult members who remained were exterminated."
He paused, his voice faltering as the next words left his lips.
"As for Vorthas... the estimated death toll stands around two hundred million, with another five hundred million taken captive."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The crackling of the lamps echoed through the hall, faint and eerie as Veyr's fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched as he tried to contain the wave of anger rising in his chest.
Two Cult worlds were now gone forever since this new wave of attacks began.
And with them, billions of civilian lives were lost.
*Huff~*
He exhaled slowly, his tone flat but laced with quiet despair. "At this rate, Tithia will fall within four days... and Ixtal in six."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
They all knew it.
The evacuation fleets were working around the clock, but the numbers didn't lie. Even if everything went perfectly, they would only manage to save seventy-five percent of the population at best, but that was only a theoretical guess.
Realistically, it would be closer to seventy, while the rest would be left behind to burn.
"Seventy percent..." Veyr muttered under his breath. his voice low enough to be nearly a whisper. "Even if I give everything I have, thirty percent of our people will still die. Thirty percent of our faith, our bloodline, our culture... gone."
The elders exchanged glances, their expressions grave but not broken.
One of them, an old man with a scar across his brow, leaned forward and spoke first.
"Do not bear this burden alone, Lord Dragon. I have seen many moons and I no longer fear death. I will stay behind and fight these Righteous dogs till my last breath."
Another elder rose from her seat, her back slightly hunched but her voice firm.
"As will I, my Lord. We cannot all be saved, and that is the truth of war. But if our deaths can buy even a little more time for those evacuating, then we die gladly."
Veyr looked up at them, his expression conflicted. Part of him wanted to order them all to leave, to run, to live. But he knew he could not. The evacuation needed time, and time was something that had to be bought with courage, not just strategy.
"Your loyalty..." he began softly, "...is not something I deserve."
"You are wrong, my Lord," the oldest among them interrupted gently. "As long as most of our people survive, and as long as the Dragon still breathes, there will always be hope for the next generation."
Veyr's eyes flickered, the faint light reflecting the sorrow within them.
The elder continued, voice trembling yet resolute.
"My father once said that a true leader is not one who saves everyone, but one who ensures that the fire of his people never goes out. You are that fire now, Lord Veyr. So lead us as Lord Søron would have if he were here. And we shall not falter."
One by one, the others nodded in agreement, their faces solemn yet filled with an unshakable faith.
Veyr lowered his head slightly, his long black hair falling across his eyes as he whispered, "Then I thank you for your voluntary sacrifice..... I swear to never forget about it for as long as I live."
He rose slowly from his chair, a faint golden glow hugging his frame, as he bowed deeply towards every man present in this town hall, who had volunteered themselves to be left behind.
If he had any doubts about the resolve he needed to have to see the Cult reborn from its ashes, it was gone now.
As while he felt his own burden to be too heavy, seeing how the commoners supported him, even at the cost of their lives, he was reminded once more as to what it meant to be Dragon.
"Send word to every remaining officer," he said. "Accelerate the evacuation. Use every ship, every route, every scrap of MP we have left, but save as many of our people as we can."
"Yes, my Lord," the scout replied, bowing deeply before rushing out of the hall.
(More chapters in Buyers club for TMT in discord.gg/EbbDXMKbYQ)