That single word—Reformation—hung in his mind, demanding to be understood.
Revan's eyes scanned the remaining parchment at full speed, dissecting every line of text that had survived the flames.
His fingertips traced the rows of logistical numbers written there: raw material supplies, black market distribution routes, and the production quota for the Crimson of Tears.
His brain instantly processed the anomaly.
These numbers were far too massive.
'That's crazy,' Revan cursed internally, his jaw clenching. 'They are seriously preparing for a full-scale massacre.'
Initially, he thought Duke Vespera and the other rotten nobles were funding this bloody project purely to stockpile military power or to monopolize the black market for mountains of gold.
But seeing the word 'Reformation' repeated alongside such a massive production quota of cursed energy, his conclusion drastically changed.
'A reformation? A coup? Are you kidding me?'
