Time passed and a spatial warp deposited Damien, his parents, and Class F into the sprawling metropolis of brass, iron, and steam known as Ironforge.
Theron and Elizabeth, having been trapped in the suffocating darkness of the th Layer for sixteen years, stood in sheer disbelief. The city of gears had evolved into a technological marvel .
Sleek, mana-powered vehicles known as Phantom Type-s glided silently over the cobblestones, running on refined mana crystals and Dwarven engineering ,
Matte black Ironclad Exo-Suits, painted with gold trim and the twin hammers crest, patrolled the perimeters with heavy, mechanical steps .
"You built all of this?" Theron asked, looking at his son with a mixture of shock and profound pride.
"I provided the funding and the blueprints," Damien smiled beneath his silver half-mask. "The Dwarves provided the genius."
"Theron?!"
