Love is both a weakness and armor. — Prince Ru Xue
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Lucas Walker glanced around. The light from his watch was very faint, hardly effective in illuminating his surroundings.
His neck ached a bit, and when he reached up to touch it, he felt a stickiness—his hand came away smelling of blood.
He tried moving his limbs, feeling fortunate that his arms and legs were responsive. Aside from several shallow cuts and minor scratches, there was no significant discomfort.
At that moment, when the exit was blocked by flames, Lucas realized the situation was dire.
He shouted at Anton to leave, while he himself dashed towards the nearest exit.
Behind him, he sensed a strong blast wave pushing against his back.
Instinctively, he tightened his grip on the little one in his arms, diving forward. It seemed he was struck by something at the back of his head, and everything after that was a blank.
Remembering this, Lucas suddenly thought of the little one.
