After hours of hiking a steep, lightless narrow trail—and many pointless breaks in between, Kage and Vaan had finally reached the exit. Sweat and filth lingered off of them, but after three hours, neither could notice anymore.

A ladder was nailed into the rocky wall before them, leading up to what seemed like a trap door to somewhere. Light leaked through tiny cracks between the planks, bringing scents of fresh polluted air they longed for. Next to the trap door hung a small switch, with a wire running along a corner of the trail back into the mines.

A click unlocked from the other side as Kage slowly peaked his head through the trap door, then swung it open with an unenthusiastic sigh. “We’re exactly where we started,” He said, early rays of dawn nearly blinding him.

Vaan climbed up, noticing the entrance to the mines blocked off and more guards shuffling around it. The trap door they climbed through led to a small storage unit a few blocks down from the walls. And knowing the laws against unregistered armaments, the scarcity of food, and how little space the average citizen had, storage was of no use.

“Be ready to run,” Kage said, hugging the corner of a nearby building.

“Why?” Vaan twisted around him, “Shouldn’t we make as little noise as possible?” His voice sounded like a mixture of lifelessness and exhaustion.

Kage reached into the trap door and pulled out the dangling switch. “Knowing my father, this switch can mean one of two things. One, it will destroy the entire layer of the mines. Or two, it’s another route for us to take, preferably an entrance to the empire.”

Vaan gulped, “Neither option sounds like fun at all.”

Without responding, Kage flipped the switch, then listened, carefully, as if trying to hear the heartbeat of a tree. With his eyes closed, he kneeled, embracing the earth below him.

“Ka—” Vaan started, cutting off as Kage’s hand slapped against his lips.

After a few doubtful moments, Kage sprung up from the ground, grabbing Vaan’s collar and flinging him forward. “Run!” He shouted.

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Before Vaan could react, flames and sparks shot out of the trap door, whirling the wind in a wave of blazing heat and clustered explosions. Rocks and debris scattered across the street, breaking numerous light posts and stands.

A ringing vibration deafened Vaan for a few moments as he tried to stand; everything in his vision was double, and all he could feel was the constant tug on his collar as Kage dragged him away from the flames. White spastic flashes disrupted his vision, fumbling his body with every passing step.

Kage yelled something to him, but Vaan couldn’t hear as the constant ringing in his ears kept pounding the sides of his brain. Then, just as his hearing had returned, countless footsteps shuffled behind him.

Vaan turned, greeted by a white leather boot being shot at his chest. An overwhelming pain had followed, sending him tumbling across the scorched cement below. Vaan gasped as all the air in his lungs escaped in a single breath, leaving his throat empty and tight.

Five silhouettes of white rushed past the fires, two who attempted to seize Kage, and the others barreling forward after Vaan. With trembling hands and mind half focused, Vaan unbuckled the revolver from the holster, encompassing the small handle between his fists.

“Fool!” Kage screamed from afar, knowing it was too late.

The five guardsmen all rushed at Vaan, some confused, some frightened, some enraged. “Stop him now!” One yelled, while another analyzed the situation, running off into the street.

Vaan tightened his grip on the trigger, and as a guardsman unleashed a fierce blade, Vaan—mortified of what was about to happen—pulled the trigger.

The core implanted in the firearm lit up for a split second, and instantaneously bounced back against Vaan’s chin. A thundering sound released from the barrel of the gun, and the approaching guardsmen fell onto his back, bleeding furiously onto the cold ground.

Another guardsmen leaned over his ally, witnessing a massive hole in the center of his the man’s abdomen, as if the body had been pierced by a mining drill. Before the guardsmen had a chance to react, Vaan grabbed the revolver off the cement, quickly pulled back the hammer, and pulled the trigger again. Unfortunately, to no surprise, he missed.

Using this opportunity, the members of the guard rushed at him. So, Vaan pulled the trigger again. And again. And again. And again. Until the street lay a canvas for white and crimson paint.

Trembling in fear, Vaan dropped the gun. The grip he had around the handle charred his hands in blisters, scarring them as if he had just touched hot coals. His eyes stared into death. His heartbeat gained a spastic rhythm as he hyperventilated, caused by none other than himself. “W-what have I done,” he whimpered, hands trembling.

“Vaan,” Kage said, resting his palm on Vaan’s shoulder. “You might have just doomed the Dustlands.”