A blinding ring of crimson plasma flared around the sixty-foot muzzle of the descending eradication cannon.
The eight-hundred-foot punitive warship hung two thousand feet above the canyon mouth, its massive bulk blotting out the storm clouds.
Atmospheric heat shivered across its crimson armor plates, radiating the crushing weight of imperial authority.
Down in the canyon throat, the ocean water hissed and evaporated under the escalating thermal wash.
From the high bridge deck of the leviathan, Grand Executioner Vhol activated the warship’s acoustic array.
His booming voice echoed across the canyon like rolling thunder, cold and devoid of human warmth.
“Rebels of the southern sea,” Vhol declared, his words carrying the weight of ancient imperial decree. “The Vermilion Empire has defaulted on its decennial tribute quota. By order of the Three Immortal Sanctuaries, your land is declared a tributary forfeit.”
Vhol raised his gauntleted hand, his fingers crackling with executioner’s lightning.
