Underground Vassel base ,
Zayne stood still, smoke curling at his feet, after casually tossing the severed hand of Darron into the rubble like garbage. The battlefield around him was chaotic — rubble, shattered stone, mangled corpses. Many black-masked men had died in the clash; those who hadn't… wish they had.
Darron didn't care. He had cut down his own men ruthlessly if they were in his way. Zayne noticed the remaining masked soldiers staring at him, trembling, some badly injured, clinging to life.
He grinned and waved at them.
They bolted, scrambling away like rats.
Then Zayne paused. Something shifted in the air — faint, desperate movements. The innocents who were imprisoned… they had begun running. Good. They'd sensed destruction coming.
He vanished.
—
In the prison of the base, the three adventurers struggled.
Daxon and Cassynne were still fighting against their special handcuffs, unable to access their mana.
Daxon: "We have to escape, NOW."
