"You guys don't get it," Bloodveil snapped, turning to glare at his underlings. "No matter how big and fancy that thing is, it still had to come pick me up, didn't it?"
One of the zombie lackeys scratched his head and muttered, "Yeah, but boss… if we had one of those, we wouldn't need anyone to pick us up."
"…"
Bloodveil's face twitched, a vein nearly popping on his forehead. He didn't bother arguing—what was the point? Still, deep down, he made a silent vow: This time, I've gotta pull off something big. If I don't make a splash, my title as Overlord of Eastreach is gonna be a joke.
As the Command Cruiser touched down, Bloodveil strode aboard with practiced swagger.
The interior was spacious and gleaming, all sleek alloy walls and high-end tech. Everything was spotless, humming with quiet energy. The place practically oozed cutting-edge design.
[Welcome aboard Command Cruiser T-097. Preparing for departure.]
A smooth, feminine AI voice echoed in his ears.
