After the funeral, Emery called a meeting, bringing together the Earth's forces to discuss their situation. The air was thick with tension, and it wasn't long before Thrax's fury erupted.
"Those Nephilim bastards!!" Thrax's voice cut through the somber atmosphere, his anger bubbling over. For days, he had been seething, unable to contain the fury that had been building within him. The loss of Fuxi, combined with the unresolved mystery surrounding the attack, had pushed him to the edge.
His frustration turned toward the two Romans, Marc Anthony and Octavius. "... and where is your Emperor!? why isn't he here?!" Thrax lashed out, his irritation palpable.
Both of them exchanged uncomfortable glances, their silence speaking volumes. They had no answers and no means to receive news from Julian.
"Stop it, Thrax!" Klea interjected, her voice sharp and commanding. The weight of their grief was still fresh, and the last thing they needed was internal strife.
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