Chapter 270: The Long Ride Home
The Iron-Horse rattled on its tracks, a metallic beast speeding through the deep-earth tunnels.
The rhythmic clack-clack-clack of the wheels usually sounded industrious, the heartbeat of Dwarven engineering. Today, it sounded like a funeral drum.
The interior of the second car was a makeshift triage center.
The plush velvet seats, designed for visiting dignitaries, were stained with demon ichor and human blood.
The smell of ozone, antiseptic, and despair hung heavy in the air.
Michael Wilson sat on the floor near the door, his back against the cold metal wall.
He had removed his glasses to clean them, revealing the dark circles under his eyes. His hands, usually steady as a surgeon's, had a faint tremor as he wiped the soot from the lenses.
Leon Lionheart sat opposite him.
The Hero looked broken. His golden armor was rent, exposing bruised skin.
