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The vast majority of citizens tuned in to ‘State of the Empire’, a nonstop omnicast that focused solely on critical Imperial affairs.

Its host wore a bewildered, yet angry look on his face while the massive display screen behind him showed live footage of the aftermath of the attack itself.

“Tens of thousands were killed earlier this cycle when a violent offshoot of the Sanguine Fundamentalists attacked the Imperial center of power on Taloren Prime,” said the reporter.

Behind him, the screen displayed numerous armored bodies littering the streets. Most of them had been torn to shreds, some to the point where they could hardly be identified as drogar.

All had been struck by all kinds of weapons – the usual charged ballistics, disintegration beams, and high impact shells. Some had even been cut apart in melee by blades.

Regardless of how they died, their blood literally flowed down the gutters.

“It was clear by the terrorists’ actions and tactics that this was a premeditated attack. They took over Lacroseth City’s primary maintenance access tunnels and transported tens of millions of krohn’s worth of military grade armaments straight to the heart of the Empire.”

.....

Among the piles of bodies were the instruments of war that the terrorists had brought to bear. There were the usual civilian rifles. But far more than them were military-grade weapons. Rifles and rockets and grenades and beams – all sorts of weapons of destruction.

They were scattered everywhere and seemed more plentiful than the bodies themselves.

Most were still intact, and clearly serviceable despite the shrapnel and blood and grime stuck in their mechanisms.

A fair number who saw the weaponry easily identified them as weapons technology from the previous generation. While they weren’t quite as effective as current-gen, they were still highly lethal.

Certainly, they could be used to great effect with discipline and training.

Also among the crowd were the ruins of many reinforced barriers, with most torn apart by the same weapons fire that destroyed the terrorists themselves. A few were certainly still standing, but had deep gouges and bullet holes in their plating.

These too were seen as last-gen technology, but still clearly effective against current-gen armaments. At least, the basic kinds. They had a much harder time standing up against newer disintegration implementations.

“How they received access to these weapons is under heavy investigation by numerous Imperial operations and agencies,” said the reporter. “Rest assured, we will all get answers as to who provided these arms to these spineless terrorists.”

Far off in the rear along a handful of streets were the hovertanks, or what was left of them. Though they powered onto the field in force, most of them had been wrenched open violently and wrecked from the inside.

Most of them hadn’t been hit by security force weapons fire at all, and in fact were largely ignored by them. Instead, the various tank columns had been completely neutralized by the Justicars with brutal efficiency.

The corpses of the tank operators sat at their stations with their bodies cut open, or with their heads in their laps.

Some had been completely immolated or blasted apart from the inside. Their contents were too gruesome to reveal live, and so the ‘Cast kept them blurred out.

“Beyond the Sanguine Fundamentalists, thousands of brave drogar fought against these violent terrorists, many of whom lost their lives in the conflict. Let’s all give them a moment of silence in honor of their brave sacrifice.”

The screen flicked over to a section of the emergency wall. It had been struck by so many tank shells and shoulder-mounted rockets that it had been wrenched completely open.

Numerous defensive channels had been wrenched open, which exposed numerous security forces inside. Their bodies had also been ripped apart by all manner of weapons fire, equally as vicious and violent as what befell the Sanguine Fundamentalists.

Their body parts littered the channels while their blood dripped from the walls.

Many of them were equally as difficult to identify as many others on the field. Simply, they had been reduced to piles of meat or pools of blood.

The only way to reliably identify them was to disseminate their genetic code.

Many in the Imperium were filled with anger and sadness on seeing their mangled bodies.

“Due to the efforts of these stalwart defenders, not a single one of these Fundamentalists stepped foot into the Imperial Towers themselves.”

Past the wrenched-open walls were piles of Sanguine Fundamentalists. They charged through the breaches by the dozen, but had been easily cut down by the security forces behind the walls themselves.

The defenders had posted up among numerous robust reinforced barricades between the towers and the walls, as well as inside of pillboxes that had popped up from beneath the ground.

From there, the security forces were able to concentrate their fire, and literally cut down terrorists as they streamed through the breaches.

None of them got past a handful of meters. Not alive, anyway.

“Even though the terrorists never got inside our most precious buildings of power, they still committed all kinds of atrocities,” continued the morose reporter. “Far too many civilians were caught in the deadly crossfire between the two forces. In particular, wayward Fundamentalist weapons fire punched through civilian defenses and killed many hiding from the chaos.”

The screen behind the reporter switched to the various city blocks around the Red Zone in the center. Their telescoping armor plates had also been ripped apart in various sections by all manner of weapons fire.

They were all riddled with bullet holes and beam scars. Some had been torn open by explosive rockets and other heavy munitions.

The coral buildings behind the armor plating had also been struck. Because they weren’t armored like the spiral towers, the bullets and beams cut right through with ease and struck numerous people hiding inside.

Some of the coral buildings had been hit so hard by so many different types of weapons that they had partially collapsed. Large sections of their structures had been reduced to flaming piles of rubble, and anyone inside had been killed violently.

Their bodies lay among the detritus, while their faces were filled with pain and fear and disbelief.

However, more tellingly, there was no way to tell if the damage the civilians suffered was purely from the Sanguine Fundamentalists themselves. The weapons on both sides of the fight were close to identical. The only differences they had were iterations in deployed technology.

Regardless which side fired, they would have easily wrecked civilian defenses with ease.

“And there weren’t just civilian casualties outside of the Imperial Red Zone, but inside as well.”

The screen behind the reporter revealed the heavy damage that the spiral towers themselves had taken. Each of them were riddled with all manner of damage roughly a hundred meters up from the ground.

The numerous hovertanks had pummeled them so mercilessly that they left gaping holes where they concentrated their shell fire. They gouged out numerous floors beyond the wrenched armor, where various electrical and chemical fires had erupted.

And even at that far of a distance, the bodies of countless drogar inside could be seen. Their bodies had been blasted apart or burnt to a crisp. On top of that, their blood coated the walls and ceilings and everything in between.

For many who were watching it was all a truly gruesome sight. Far more than they could handle.

“Worst of all, during this violent attack on the center of Imperial power, our beloved Emperor was brutally assassinated,” said the reporter. “Despite all of the death that all of us are seeing on our screens right this moment, none of the losses have been as devastating as his.”

The screen flicked over to the drones that were high above the tower itself. They showed a wide view of the very top of the towers. Particularly, they centered on the tallest tower, where its topmost floor had been blasted open.

Whatever smoke and fire had long since been extinguished, and the only thing that remained was the soot-covered interior of the throne room itself.

There was the dead Gold Justicar who laid in the center of the crushed desk. Her normally gleaming armor was marred and blackened by a thick layer of ash.

Most importantly, the corpse of the Emperor Retholis had been blasted to pieces. Parts of his body were scattered all over the room itself, most of which had been burnt to a crisp. The only part of him that was still relatively intact was a portion of his upper body – his upper chest, neck, head, and right shoulder.

Everything else was practically unidentifiable.

Many drogar wept at the sight.

“Without a clear successor for the Throne, we are all left in chaos. How long will it take the clans to find us a new leader? I can only hope that whoever they choose will push hard against terrorists such as these.

“We cannot allow the chaos of fundamentalist forces to undermine our indomitable and glorious empire. Though their strikes have caused deep, lasting wounds on us, they are not enough to completely destroy us.

“We shall prevail.

“The Emperor is dead. Long live the Empire.”

~

“A toast!” cried Konleth.

He was giddy as a schoolchild as he watched the report over ‘Cast. Both he and Gravoss were in their private booth at the Viper Pit. Though they were watching the news report rather than the actual duels in the rings below.

“Yes indeed,” Gravoss replied. “A toast.”

Both of them raised their snifters at each other, and tapped them lightly with a CLINK. Then they slugged back the reddish-purple liquid in their glasses.

They gasped with deep satisfaction as the drink burned their throats.

“I’ve got to admit something to you,” said Gravoss after a moment. “I didn’t think you’d be able to pull that stunt off. You said you were going to, so many times, but...”

Gravoss trailed off slightly, which allowed Konleth to finish the sentence for him.

“I simply needed to wait for the right moment,” he said. “Timing is everything.”

“You mean the most dire moment,” Gravoss scoffed.

“What’s the difference?”

“Hmph.”

Gravoss poured them both another swig into each of their glasses, which they slugged back with equal satisfaction as the first.

“Aren’t you worried about getting connected to the attack?” Gravoss said. “Everyone knows you’ve got a few ties to the Sanguine. Eventually, they’re going to put your head on a block and cut it off right in the middle of a hearing.”

Konleth harrumphed loudly.

“If they could do anything about that, the attack would’ve never happened in the first place,” Konleth replied. “No, the senate as a whole is flaccid. Not without me to whip it.”

The senator then turned to Gravoss with a stern look in his eye. Although he was still jovial from the news of Retholis’ death, there was still more to be done.

“I’ve done my part,” he said. “Now it’s your turn. You need to keep the clans unstable, unable to choose the next emperor. Whatever it takes, we have to keep the throne empty for as long as we can.”

“Why not just place someone we want?” Gravoss retorted. “It’d be far easier if we simply installed our own and took the reins directly.”

“Too risky. And open to get countered. Besides, I don’t want to waste the capital. Let’s allow the fires to spread a bit and sow a little chaos. That should keep the coin rolling into our coffers.”