They were all necessary casualties that the generals had taken into account, calculated sacrifices to cement a base of support. In war, people's lives are nothing more than a currency to be exchanged without hesitation, an expendable resource that buys moments of advantage.
It is a cruel vision, inhuman even, but it is nonetheless the reality: the numbers are cold, the strategies impassive, and the bodies just another datum in the reports of the high command.
"haah~..."
I guess that would be all for today. Although I hadn't witnessed the carnage up close, the lingering stench in the air-burnt flesh, coagulated blood, the early putrefaction of abandoned corpses-was proof enough of the magnitude of the situation.
The camp was littered with limbs severed from their owners, faces frozen in grimaces of terror, bodies unrecognizable amid piles of rubble and ash, some crushed by the weight of the golems with no chance of survival.