The front half the Proudclad's fractured hull came crashing down the street away from Team Kirin. Tile was crushed, wood was snapped, and glass shattered as it slowly came to a rest. An inferno engulfed most of the wreck as small, sporadic explosions continued to ravage what little structural integrity was left. Oil that leaked from the metal carcass began to ignite the ground around the wreck. A shrill fire alarm began to blare as the fire was starting to take over the district. 

Ciradyl's forces that assisted the infiltration team came out into the open to join Team Kirin, knowing full well that there was little point in trying to salvage their personas. A Mystrel man was the last of the freedom fighters to leave the prison, holding his side as he made his way over to the rest. He never managed to reach them as a jagged piece of the ship smashed his body into the wall of the prison, preceded by loud crack and groaning metal. A sharp edge of the shard was lodged deep into his chest, tears ran down his cheeks as he cut his hand on the edges of the rough slab. Crimson blood seeped from his lips as he desperately tried to catch a breath. His head soon drooped as one hand fell to the ground while the other remained on the shard.

Tall flames highlighted a dark figure emerging from the wreckage of the Proudclad, the orange reflecting off the silver plates not tarnished by ash and debris. Their sword was already drawn and pulsed with a red glow. The design of the armor was unmistakable as she cleared most of the smoke from the wreck. [color=C32A20][b]Captain Reisa[/b][/color]. A faint trail of blood ran from her hairline down her face. Short, auburn hair paired with a pair of ruby red eyes replaced the helmet she had worn in their first meeting. Her expression was twisted into a snarl as she began to walk forward.

[color=537DAE]"No, there is no way..."[/color] Arton said in a sharp breath full of disbelief, eyes widening at the approaching Reisa.