The streets of the Upper District were cleaner than the slums, but they were just as oppressive.

Here, the smog didn't smell like sewage; it smelled like ozone and burning mana. Patrols of Iron Golems marched in perfect synchronisation, their heavy metal feet clanking against the brass-plated roads.

Hephaestus led them through the shadows of the massive ventilation ducts, moving with a familiarity that spoke of a childhood spent sneaking out of the palace.

Suddenly, the Prince stopped.

He turned around, his grease-stained face illuminated by the flickering light of a nearby mana lamp.

He held a heavy wrench in his hand, gripping it tight.

"Stop," Hephaestus said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was hard.

Damien paused, his new Will Armament humming silently under his skin. "We don't have time for sightseeing, Prince."

"I'm not sightseeing," Hephaestus took a step forward, looking up at the much taller human.

"I am clarifying something."

The dwarf pointed his wrench at Damien's chest.

"I am taking you to the King because you are a Voss. My father respected Theron Voss more than any dwarf in this mountain."

"He said your father was the only human who understood the weight of responsibility."

Hephaestus's eyes narrowed behind his goggles.

"That is the only reason I am trusting you. But listen to me closely, Human."

The Prince's hand trembled, not from fear, but from a desperate, suicidal resolve.

"If I find out you are lying… If I find out you are using my father's condition to steal our technology or hurt my people… I won't fight you."

Hephaestus tapped a small, glowing red button on his belt.

"I have rigged the thermal exhaust ports of the city. One signal, and I overload the magma flow. I will blow this entire capital into the sky before I let a traitor sit on the throne."

"I planned to use it against my uncle if things really came down to it, but I won't be afraid to use it against you!"

Damien looked at the Prince. He looked at the red button.

Then, he smiled. It wasn't a mocking smile. It was a smile of approval.

"Good," Damien said. "A King needs to be willing to burn the board to save the pieces. I respect that."

He gently pushed the wrench aside.

"But you won't need to push that button. Even if you don't believe in us, believe in your father's judgment."

"Since he respects my father so much, how could I, his son, be so bad? After all, a tiger dad does not give birth to a dog son, haha!" laughing slightly, Damien patted Hephestus on his shoulder.

For this talented person who had died in the original story, Damien didn't mind saving him

However, Hephaestus, hearing this laugh, didn't immediately reply.

Rather, he held his gaze for a second longer, then deactivated the trigger and turned around, exhaling sharply.

"Follow me. The service tunnel is this way."

As they moved deeper into the district, the atmosphere grew more hostile. Even in the shadows, Damien could see the propaganda posters plastered on the walls.

They depicted humans as rats stealing Dwarven gold.

There were caricatures of Elves with knives, stabbing Dwarves in the back.

"I understand the caution," Damien whispered, keeping his hood low.

"But this… this is hatred. Why is the anti-human sentiment so high? Especially considering my father's and yours relationship."

"Things weren't always like this; they were better before", Hephaestus muttered, kicking a piece of trash.

"Before what?"

"Before the Elven War started."

Hephaestus stopped at a heavy iron grate. He began to unscrew the bolts with rapid, practised movements.

"Six months ago, when the Twilight Association attacked the Elven Forest… my father knew."

"He knew?" Damien raised an eyebrow.

"We have spies too," Hephaestus grunted, prying the grate open.

"When the news reached us that the humans were sieging the Elven Capital, Father was furious. He slammed his fist on the War Table so hard he cracked the stone."

[Flashback].

The Royal War Room. Six months ago.

King Durin, a massive dwarf with a beard like braided iron, stood roaring at his generals.

"The Elves are our oldest neighbours! If the Humans take the Forest, they control the mana flow of the entire continent! We march at dawn! Prepare the Legions!"

The generals hesitated. "But Sire… the treaty…"

"Screw the treaty!" Durin bellowed.

"Theron Voss is missing. The Emperor is silent. This smells of rot! If we sit still, we'll probably be next!"

And so that night, in preparation for the war, there was a feast to bless the departing army.

Durin drank from his favourite tankard. He laughed. He boasted, never to wake till this moment

[Flashback End.]

"He never woke up," Hephaestus said, his voice thick with suppressed emotion as they crawled into the tunnel.

"The healers couldn't find a cause. They said it was 'Mana Exhaustion.' But the next day… the attacks started."

"Attacks?" Damien asked.

"Human mercenaries," Hephaestus said.

"They started raiding our border convoys. They burned our grain shipments. They poisoned our wells. Every time they attacked, they shouted, 'For the Glory of Humanity!'"

"A false flag operation," Damien realized instantly. "Classic."

"It worked," Hephaestus said bitterly.

"The people were scared. They were hungry. And then… my Uncle stepped in."

"Regent Thrain," Damien stated.

"He appeared like a saviour," Hephaestus spat.

"He gave speeches about 'Dwarven Supremacy.' He said the humans had betrayed us. He said the Elves were weak for falling."

"He closed the borders. He militarized the police. He told everyone that the only way to survive was to hate the outsiders."

Hephaestus looked back at Damien.

"And now, everyone believes that humans are the source of all our misery. If the guards find you, they won't arrest you. The mob will tear you apart before you even reach a cell."

Damien nodded slowly. The puzzle pieces fell into place.

The Twilight Association and the Void Cult were thorough.

Neutralize the strongest threats: Theron Voss (Ambushed), King Durin (Poisoned).

Isolate the races: Make the Dwarves hate the Humans so they wouldn't send aid during the Elven War.

Install a puppet: Thrain.

"Your Uncle isn't a savior, Hephaestus," Damien said coldly, his blue eyes glowing in the dark tunnel.

"He's a puppet. He isolated the kingdom, and just like your father feared, the Dwarves are most likely the next target after the elves."

"At this rate, it seems their plan to weaken the whole Elias before the demon invasion seems to be working", muttering slowly, Damien's eyes narrowed slightly

It seemed he had to speed up his plans

"Demon invasion?" Hephaestus froze.

"I'll explain later," Damien said, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. "We're here."

They climbed out of the ventilation shaft.

They were standing on a high balcony, hidden by gargoyles.

Below them stretched the Royal Palace Gardens. But there were no flowers. The gardens had been paved over.

In their place were rows of tanks, artillery cannons, and strange, green-glowing forges that smelled of rotten meat.

Dominating the centre of the complex was the Palace itself, a massive fortress made of black iron.

"The Lion's Den," Leona growled, her fur bristling at the smell of the dark mana wafting from the forges.

"Let's go," Damien adjusted his collar, his King's Will settling over his shoulders like an invisible cloak.

"Time to find out what exactly is going on."

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