The urgent shouts of the Syndicate Masters echoed through the antechambers and corridors leading away from the main command center.
"All units, evacuate! Secure the retreat of all personnel! This is the highest priority!" Operatives scrambled, their disciplined formations breaking into a controlled chaos as they relayed orders and began to fall back from the breached sections of the headquarters.
Amidst this turmoil, a figure moved with calm purpose against the flow of retreating men. He wore a gleaming golden mask that obscured his features entirely, and his dark, tailored attire spoke of nobility rather than the rougher gear of the Syndicate grunts.
His hand rested on the pommel of the sword at his hip. This was the First Prince of the Roland Kingdom.
He navigated the labyrinthine passages, his senses guiding him towards the epicenter of the disturbance. Soon, he reached a wide corridor.
