The thought of the sepulchre world he had visited over four decades ago unearthed bitter memories for Dak'ir. It was there that Ushorak had lost his life, and that Nihilan's vendetta had been born.
Without war, are obsolete. War is my clenched fist, the burning in my marrow. It is glory and renown. It gives us purpose. I it! What would we do if all the wars were to end? What use are we to
weak on Stratos… but it began on Moribar,' he rasped. 'I curse Kadai for that. For