The flames of war has only ignited the raging pressure in Ignis' heart—from high atop the tower lies his ember irises witnessing the training of his soldiers down the path of the volcano.

He has his hands behind his back as conviction manages to befall his expression; and if looks could kill, he would have won the war by now.

He felt pride, joy, and everything in between; his nation was winning, and that wasn't an exaggeration. He knows this war to be in his favor; he was the lord after all.