Thomas stood at the center of the MOA Command Center, his gaze locked onto the battlefield feed. The fight was escalating—Mawbeasts tearing through trenches, Juggernauts smashing aside armored vehicles, and the newly identified Stranglers decimating rooftop units.
Despite the overwhelming firepower, their defensive line was beginning to buckle.
Thomas's fists clenched. He had seen enough.
"I'm going in."
The room fell silent.
Everyone turned toward him, disbelief flashing across their faces.
Marcus Holt, his Deputy Chief of Staff, was the first to speak.
"Sir, you can't be serious. You're the Supreme Commander—you belong here, coordinating the operation."
Adrian Vance, Chief of the Air Force, stepped forward. "We have the best-trained forces on the front lines. Sending you there is unnecessary."
Phillip, standing nearby, grinned. "He's not changing his mind."
