Around 250 million kilometers away, in the void of space, the remnants of Trismus Weapon Solutions gathered.
As the flagship was included in the ones Fenrir "collected," Rochelle had no choice but to stay in a different ship, arms crossed as she paced around uneasily. The bridge of this vessel was smaller, stuffier, and carried none of the commanding presence she was used to.
Every step she took felt like pacing inside a cage.
They have spectacularly failed to get Axel. Not only that, it was them who ended up paying just to keep their lives. As such, she had no plans of returning until they could ensure they would win.
"But the abilities they displayed suggest they have god-level beings as a backer." She whispered, biting her nails. "At this rate, we wouldn't be able to get back at them!"
She already lost nearly half of her escort ships and troops. The gap in their formation where those vessels used to sit felt almost accusatory—a visible record of her failure.
