A vast stretch of ruined main hall of the Imperial Palace, with crumbling walls and broken pillars, nowhere intact; yet even so, one could discern how opulent and majestic the complete palace once was.
War flames spread everywhere, even the entire sky and space were scorched to a fiery red.
The cries of children, the wails of the commoners, the roars of warriors, all converged into a tragic and desperate symphony echoing through this palace.
Above the sky, countless lightning dragons emerged from the clouds, their dragon heads peering out, eyes fierce, breathing out lightning with each breath.
Above those dragons, a man seemingly without a physical form, his body void-like, gazed down indifferently, overlooking the empire engulfed by war flames.
And beneath the sky, above the empire, hundreds of soldiers clad in armor, wielding spears, knives, or swords, their aura despondent, as if fighting to the death as the dynasty's last bulwark.
