The sound of spinning rotors thundered through the night sky.
High above the smoking ruins of Sector Three, the news choppers hovered like vultures, their floodlights sweeping across the ruined cityscape. Cameras zoomed in, focusing on one figure at the heart of the destruction—a man with golden eyes, dragging a broken body through the rubble by the hair.
Alister.
"Zoom in! Zoom in—look at that nonchalant expression!" one reporter gasped through the broadcast, voice brimming with awe.
"That inmate never stood a chance! Did you see those dragon claws? The Dragon Lord never ceases to amaze us!"
"Gods, he's dragging that man like a sack of garbage—look, look! He's headed for the road—wait, isn't that close to the old Union Detainment Facility?!"
"What's he doing now? He's getting atop some rubble... it looks like he is about to… give a speech?!"
