The commander, a distinguished man adorned with military medals and a proud mustache, spoke up.
"As of now, the death toll has reached 210,400" His voice wavered and tears welled up in his eyes.
A heavy silence settled over the room, each person feeling the weight of the devastating loss they had suffered. The sheer magnitude of lives lost was incomprehensible, and the reality of their situation became more dire with each passing moment.
Emperor Julius, his face grim, broke the oppressive silence.
"We mourn the fallen," he declared, his voice heavy but resolute.
"But their sacrifice shall not be in vain. We must act. Now."
A flurry of activity followed. Freya, her white hair ablaze under the harsh lights, leaned in towards the Emperor, her voice a rapid whisper.