Cassian, as well as everyone else with working eyes, couldn’t really understand what they were watching.
For eight endless minutes, the heir to House Kyros had terrorized every being he specifically hunted down.
Then, as if fully intent on destroying their morale, he’d end his assault by bowing and thanking them for their alleged service and contribution before moving on to the next target.
Rhys, who now stood next to Cassian as they had since switched to defense after realizing what was happening to their people, perfectly voiced Cassian’s current thoughts.
"A monster? No—a certified madman," Rhys muttered, maintaining his stance to defend against the Orc Princess’s aide.
It wasn’t something a person from the Federation would say lightly.
See, Rhys Corvan, as someone under Cassian Veyra, was perfectly aware of the true foundation of their nation: technological innovation.
Which was really just a euphemism for mad scientists who pushed for things far beyond what could be morally acceptable in the name of alleged science.
In his experience dealing with them while assisting Cassian, even he could understand why such people chose to leave the Empire. Because in truth, they were just educated savages who’d never be accepted in any other organized society that actually aimed for contentment and improved quality of life.
Actually, Rhys believed it’d be better to momentarily turn his back on an enemy soldier than to do it in front of a Federation scientist.
The worst a soldier could do was simply kill him. On the other hand, the crazed people who called themselves scientists could do so much worse.
They really could; take it from someone who’d seen it firsthand.
Those people could make it so someone wouldn’t even be able to recognize themselves after a short meeting, and then they’d never even discover how much they’d been wronged in the first place.
And yet, despite the atrocities he’d witnessed in the Federation, this—whatever this was—just seemed so much worse.
It was the kind of attack that’d require tampering with the brain for recovery. Luca Kyros, the supposedly docile crybaby of the Empire, was conducting his "experiments" with an intensity that could rival the mad scientists of the Federation.
No, actually, this might just be worse because the experiments were being conducted with no help from soldiers and no other visible tools.
In Rhys’s mind, this was simply perverse.
Not only was the golden-eyed cadet catching his own test subjects, but he was also restraining and subjugating them himself with abilities that he hadn’t even seen in other cyborgs like him.
Rhys remembered exactly what happened when Luca started knocking.
Yes, as in knocking—he quite literally used his spiritual tendrils to rap on the suspected location of his victim’s cybernetic implant as if waiting for a magical door to open.
They couldn’t understand what he was trying to do, but Luca was completely absorbed in the task.
His tendrils held his target firmly in place while he kept fiddling with a cadet’s calf. The look of utter concentration on his face made the Federation aide shiver because he couldn’t help but recognize that specific expression.
Joy?
Bliss?
He happily and innocently knocked again on the calf of the Federation cadet. Unbeknownst to everyone watching, he was dying to see the mechanism of how the thrusters could switch out with artillery in such a tight space, based on the data D-29 had gathered from a scan.

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