I stood before the looming structure, tracing the intricate details of its architecture with a cold, analytical gaze. It didn't take long for me to realise exactly why that Paragon had requested this specific building.
To a warmonger race, this was a cathedral of violence. The air around it seemed to hum with a latent, violent energy—a Rage Aura.
Such a race would celebrate this place, viewing the boost in combat prowess as a divine gift. I looked at the building for a moment longer before a light, cynical chuckle escaped my lips.
It was a strategic asset, certainly. Having a localised Rage Aura during a frantic melee could turn the tide of a skirmish. But in my eyes? It wasn't nearly as important as the Paragon believed. To me, the Mercenary Building held a weight and utility that far surpassed this temple of fury.
