Zalthar, the Rhytil commander, stood on the observation deck of the central command station. His many eyes scanned the holographic displays, watching the battle unfold in real-time. His tactical mind raced. The Rhytil fleet was faltering, but the war was far from over.
"We cannot allow this to continue," Zalthar growled, turning to his subordinates. "Activate the secondary defenses. Prepare the final weapon."
One of his officers stepped forward, a look of unease on his face. "Commander, the final weapon is risky. It could destroy everything. Not just the Alliance—our forces, too."
Zalthar's eyes narrowed, and a deep growl echoed from his throat. "If we do not act now, the Rhytil will be eradicated. We have no choice. We will end this war on our terms."