CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! The mechanical clamor ground to a halt. The dazed workers looked up at the wall clock in confusion, only to realize it wasn't yet quitting time.
Seeing the scene unfold, the nearby workshop director broke into a cold sweat. This was an important figure from the Outer Islands. If he were to be frightened here, the director's job would be over.
Hearing the cries of a child from underneath the machinery, Charles knelt to peer below.
Beneath the large and small gears, more than a dozen pairs of panicked eyes blinked in the gloom.
The accompanying workshop director hurriedly dropped to his knees and yelled toward the space under the machine, "Get out of there! Who the hell did this?!"
A moment later, a child in tattered clothes crawled out, clutching his severed hand. He trembled all over—whether from fear or pain, it was hard to tell.
