Meanwhile, different from Isabelle and the others who were about to have their first battle, Damien and Hephestus had already had theirs
CRASH.
The wreckage of the Mag-Lev train burned with a sickly, magical fire. Smoke billowed up into the high ceiling of the Transport Cavern, obscuring the blinking red emergency lights.
"Go! Keep climbing! Don't look down!"
Hephaestus stood at the base of the ventilation shaft, ushering the last of the prisoners onto the maintenance ladder. His face was streaked with soot, his apron torn, but his voice carried the weight of command.
"Prince!" The boy, Thorn, hesitated on the ladder, looking back. "Aren't you coming?"
"I have to finish this," Hephaestus said, forcing a smile he didn't feel. "Go. Tell the world what happened here."
He slammed the maintenance grate shut and fused it with a quick pulse of mana from his wrench.
HISS-SEAL.
The civilians were safe. They would climb the updraft to the surface.
