Broken sat in the rear section of the crawling carriage, enclosed within the mechanical shell of Beebot.
The journey to the capital stretched on, and every passing second gnawed at his patience. He hated the waiting—every moment felt like an eternity.
He couldn't stop his thoughts from spiraling. What kind of shape would the Dissidia Kingdom be in by the time he arrived? Would the capital already be reduced to rubble?
The weight of the possibilities pressed down on him, intensifying the stress coiling in his chest. Reports were already flooding in about demons converging on the capital from all directions.
The reality of the situation was overwhelming. He hadn't expected the attack to be this massive. Thankfully, most of the Vensalor Guild members were stationed at the capital, providing critical support to keep the city from falling.
At least, for now.