CHAPTER 297: RETURN
Thud. Cough!
They dragged themselves out of the sewer's maw in a wretched state.
Rianor stumbled out first, his face inches from kissing the dirt. His legs, shackled to a stone chair for days, trembled violently, protesting his own body weight. The open air of the Capital welcomed them like uninvited guests—heavy with the stench of thick smoke, chalk dust, and the metallic tang of something burning.
On the southern horizon, plumes of pitch-black smoke tainted the sky. Faintly, the clash of steel and hysterical screams echoed, a macabre choir straight from hell.
"We need to get back to the warehouse. Move," Roland ordered, wiping a mix of sweat and grime from his brow.
Before he could even finish the sentence—
WHOOSH!
