The smoke was thick, acrid, and tasted of alchemical sulfur. It swirled around the crater like a shroud, blinding the Royal Guards and obscuring the towering form of the Steam Titan.

Inside the cockpit, the silence was absolute.

"Damien!" Hephaestus coughed, waving his hand through the haze inside the small metal sphere. "We need to go! The King, my father, he's right outside! If he sees you..."

"I know," Damien whispered. His voice was ragged, his throat raw from the scream that had accompanied the Giga Full Counter.

He looked down at his hands. They were trembling uncontrollably. The skin was cracked, glowing faintly with residual golden light as his Celestial Life Physique worked overtime to knit his flesh back together.

The backlash of channeling that much power through the Pantheon Sword had nearly burned him out from the inside.

'Mana: 5%. Aura: 2%. Stamina: Critical.'

He was running on fumes.

Damien looked at the external monitor. Through the thermal sensors, he could see the heat signature of King Durin standing just fifty meters away, flanked by elite knights. The King was staring at the Titan with an intensity that could melt steel.

"He knows," Damien murmured.

"What?" Hephaestus froze, his hand halfway to the hatch release.

"Your father," Damien pointed at the screen.

"He doesn't look confused. He looks... struck by recognition. He definitely felt the energy signature of the Pantheon Sword. He knows someone used his 'failed' masterpiece.

Hephaestus paled behind his goggles. "Then we're dead. He locked that sword away for a reason. If he finds out a human used it—"

"He won't find out," Damien interrupted. "Not yet. Not publicly anyway."

He unstrapped himself from the pilot's harness. His legs wobbled, but he forced himself to stand.

He grabbed the Pantheon Sword, now dull and grey, dormant once more and wrapped it quickly in the heavy cloth he kept in his Void Gem.

"You stay here," Damien ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"You pilot the Titan out of the smoke. You are the Prince Regent. You are the Savior of Ironforge. You built this machine. Take the credit."

"But—"

"If they see me," Damien grabbed Hephaestus by the shoulders, staring into his eyes through the mask, "the Empire will know. The Second Prince will know. 'Zero' needs to remain a mystery. A ghost."

"If they know it's a Voss behind the mask, things will become much more complicated"

Hephaestus swallowed hard, then nodded. "Where will you go?"

Damien smirked beneath his mask, though it was more of a grimace of pain. He reached into his coat and pulled out the Voss Shadow Medallion.

"I'm going to get a front-row seat to your speech."

"Shadow Step."

VWOOM.

The air in the cockpit was displaced. One second, the masked figure of Zero was there; the next, only empty space remained.

Hephaestus was alone.

He took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he gripped the control spheres. He wasn't a warrior. He was an engineer. But today, he had to be a King.

He hit the ventilation purge.

HISSSSSSS.

The alchemical smoke surrounding the Titan was blasted away by high-pressure steam vents. The white cloud dissipated, revealing the scarred, majestic form of the Royal Guardian Titan to the waiting world.

The crowd in the plaza gasped. The camera drones, which had been blindingly circling the smoke, zoomed in.

The cockpit hatch hissed and slid open.

Prince Hephaestus climbed out. He stood on the Titan's chest, soot-stained, grease-covered, and exhausted. He looked small against the backdrop of the massive machine, but in that moment, he looked larger than life.

"Father!" Hephaestus called out, his voice amplified by the Titan's speakers.

King Durin stood at the base of the crater. He leaned heavily on a rune-etched cane, his face pale and gaunt from months of magical coma, but his eyes were sharp as diamonds. He didn't look at his son. He looked past him, into the open, empty cockpit.

"Where is he?" Durin's voice rumbled, low and dangerous, carried only to Hephaestus by a focused mana-whisper.

"Where is the one who wielded the Prism?"

Hephaestus froze. He scrambled down the Titan's leg, landing on the glassified pavement. He limped toward his father, bowing deeply.

"He is gone, Your Majesty," Hephaestus lied, his voice trembling only slightly. "The... spirit engine. It burned out. The pilot vanished with the exhaust."

Durin stared at his son. He looked at the Titan. He looked at the destruction in the plaza, the erased Bone Dragon, the shattered buildings, the cowering Cultist.

Then, the King let out a long, shuddering breath.

"A spirit..." Durin muttered, loud enough for the Red Knights to hear. "Yes. The ancestors protected us."

He stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on Hephaestus's shoulder.

"You did well, my son. You built a great thing!."

The crowd erupted.

"ALL HAIL PRINCE HEPHAESTUS! ALL HAIL THE IRONCLAN!"

The cheers were deafening. The dwarves, who had been terrified and oppressed for months, finally let out their relief in a roar that shook the mountain.

But in the shadows of a collapsed alleyway, hidden behind a pile of rubble, a figure in a black cloak watched.

Damien slumped against the wall, clutching his chest. He had removed the Zero mask, his face pale and covered in cold sweat.

'That was close,' he thought, his vision blurring.

He watched the reunion between father and son. He saw the Royal Guards seizing the bound Cultist, dragging the laughing madman away to the dungeons.

"Azazel..." Damien whispered the name, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with his exhaustion.

The victory felt hollow. They had won the battle, but the Cultist's words hung over the city like a guillotine blade.

'The beacon is lit.'

"Young Master!"

A frantic whisper came from his left.

Isabelle, Leona, and Lyra scrambled over the debris. They looked battered, Leona's armor was dented, Lyra's mana bow was cracked, and Isabelle's maid uniform was singed, but they were alive.

"You're alive!" Isabelle threw herself at him, checking him for injuries with frantic hands. "When the Titan fired that beam... we thought..."

"I'm fine," Damien lied, wincing as he straightened up. "Just a little bit empty."

"That was reckless," Lyra scolded, though her relief was evident in her eyes.

"You drained the city's ley-line. The broadcasting crystal blew up right after the beam hit. The whole world saw the flash, but the feed cut before they saw you vanish."

"Good," Damien exhaled. "This way Zero remains a myth."

"We need to move," Leona grunted, watching a squad of Iron Legionnaires, now rebooted under Royal command, marching toward the plaza to secure the area.

"If they find us here, looking like this..."

"No," Damien shook his head. "We're not running, Not this time."

He pushed himself off the wall, steadying himself on Isabelle's shoulder.

"King Durin is awake, The Regent is dead, The city is free."

Damien looked toward the Royal procession. King Durin was turning, heading back toward the palace, supported by Hephaestus.

However, before he left, the King stopped.

He turned his head, scanning the shadows of the plaza. For a split second, his gaze seemed to lock onto the exact alleyway where Damien was hiding.

The King gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

"We aren't running," Damien said, a tired smile touching his lips. "We're going to collect our reward."

"Reward?" Isabelle blinked. "But you said we needed to hide!"

"The public needs to see 'Zero' vanish," Damien said, his eyes gleaming with the faint return of his intent. "But the King? The King needs to know who saved his crown."

"Besides," Damien patted the spot on his back where the Pantheon Sword was wrapped and hidden.

"He's going to want his sword back. And I have a few conditions before I return it."

"Let's go," Damien commanded, adjusting his cloak to hide his face. "To the Palace, use the service tunnels Hephaestus showed us. It's time for a private audience."

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