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An Illusion of Will
Chapter 67: Prison Break - Part one

Chapter 67: Prison Break - Part one

The days passed, and Avilius Cato's execution drew closer. Al kept his correspondence with Kesha. He had explained to her how, in a few weeks, his phantom seed was going to attempt to free both of them.

To Al’s surprise Kesha rejected his offer writing back that her allegiance was with Immortal Avilius and his cultivation partner "Tamara Amadori" which was her teacher.

Ellie hadn’t shown back up after she had delivered the message in a rock to Al. After Benjamin disappeared, Al asked if anyone knew what had happened to his brief mentor, but no one knew a thing, nor did they care.

The day before Avilius was to be executed Viktor who had been delivering Kesha’s messages to Al and vice versa pulled him to the side while they were walking out to the yard and said. “Tomorrow is the big day, the favor that you owe us, we need it done tomorrow.”

With a turn toward Viktor, Al inquired, "What is it that you need from me?"

Viktor leaned in, lowering his voice, "Chances are they'll take Avilius during tomorrow's yard time. As soon as yard time is over, you and about 50 others will attempt to escape by bringing down the fence."

Al had suspected he might be used as a decoy, but the magnitude of Viktor's revelation left him surprised. It appeared that a massive prison break was on the horizon.

Viktor continued to explain their plan to Al in a hushed tone. Avilius would deliver a clear sign, marking the crucial moment before his execution. Then, Viktor and eight others, all dwelling in the spirit domain of the Mortal Chasm, would execute a daring break-in to retrieve their etheric shells, the very essence of their power.

If all went according to plan and Al managed to survive, their rescue mission could extend to him and any other inmates once their etheric shells were reclaimed.

Al listened attentively, grappling with the knowledge that his phantom seed was planning their rescue mission for him and his friend. However, he decided not to disclose anything, keeping it a secret fallback in case Avilius and Viktor's scheme failed. With a solemn nod, he agreed to go through with the favor he owed Viktor.

After Viktor departed, leaving Al, a wave of trepidation washed over him. "I might actually die tomorrow," he mused aloud, his thoughts drifting back to Benjamin's teachings. "A husk of our Will... It is strange. When I entered the etheric realm of the material plane to harvest my etheric shell, my Will resembled a thicket of tendrils, like hair."

Despite the looming threat and the near certainty of danger, Al knew he had little choice but to proceed with Viktor's plan. He steeled himself for the impending challenge, aware that survival in this perilous undertaking was anything but assured.

Al found no solace in rest that night. Benjamin and his cryptic words seemed to surface constantly in his mind. His mind buzzed with a revelation spawned from his contemplations.

"He didn't say our etheric shells were not needed," Al whispered to himself. "He was saying we are too attached to our etheric shells and lost without them."

As this insight settled within him, a wild idea burst forth, seeming so obvious that he marveled at not having considered it earlier. To harvest one's etheric shell, one had to enter the etheric realm of the material or energy plane. This required using a dreamcatcher, blood, and the symbol representing their Will. Al realized he had all but one component.

Undeterred, Al decided to attempt the ritual without the dreamcatcher. He bit into his finger, drawing forth the crimson essence, and with a steady hand, he sketched the symbol representing his Will. Yet, as he stood there, nothing happened, he sensed disappointment creeping in.

Nevertheless, Al was undeterred. He began to breathe deeply, activating his A.R.C. and summoning forth his Stubborn Will. However, with no etheric shell to harness its power, it could not manifest. Instead, it pooled into his organs as it had before, but the speed and quantity were notably diminished.

For hours, Al toiled relentlessly, experimenting with various impromptu techniques to guide his Stubborn Will outside of his body and into the blood symbol he had inscribed on the floor. However, despite his unwavering efforts, nothing happened. Frustration loomed, and he realized he was making no headway.

Recognizing the futility of his attempts, Al paused and shifted his focus to the memory of how his etheric shell felt in his hands and how it felt to have his Stubborn Will flow into it.

He closed his eyes and tried to evoke the sensation of holding his dark, twisted knife tethered to the ring on his pinky finger. In the solitude of his cell, he felt as if the weapon were within his grasp, though when he opened his eyes, the illusion vanished. It was a peculiar sensation.

As the first light of dawn began to paint the room, Al washed away the bloody symbol he had drawn and commenced preparing for the day ahead. "Funny," he muttered to himself, a wry smile forming on his lips, "it feels like I'm the one walking toward my own execution." He tidied his room, meticulously making his bed in anticipation of being led out into the yard, where the fate of Avilius Cato and the potential prison break awaited him.

As Viktor had foretold, the moment arrived when Avilius was taken away during their designated recreation time in the yard.

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Half an hour later, the inmates, including Al, began their return to the prison building. Viktor, playing his part, pretended to trip and feigned an ankle injury, his cries of pain drawing the attention of the guards, who quickly surrounded him.

In a carefully coordinated moment, a wave of prisoners suddenly surged toward the fence adjacent to the building where they were meant to enter.

Al, aware that the plan was now underway, joined the rush. It took the guards a few precious seconds to comprehend the situation, but by then, the group of about fifty imprisoned cultivators had collided with the fence with such force that it crumbled before them.

Chaos erupted as shots rang out, mingling with cries and screams of pain and agony. Al witnessed a tragic sight as a man at the forefront was brutally gunned down by heavy artillery, his body reduced to tattered pieces.

Amid the pandemonium, the Dawn-keepers descended upon them, lifting individuals on either side. Suddenly, Al stumbled and fell. He instinctively attempted to rise, only to crumple back to the ground. He glanced down, discovering the gruesome cause: his left leg had been obliterated by a sniper's shot, and blood gushed profusely from the wound.

Yet Al's tenacity burned fierce within him. "Not like this! I'm so close to her, damn it!" Al's voice resonated with determination; his Subborn Will momentarily overshadowed the pain of his injury.

Just then, a colossal explosion reverberated from the building that had held Avilius captive. The structure erupted into a fiery inferno, a crimson shockwave erupting forth. In its wake, the prison watchtower housing the church's weaponry and snipers succumbed, crumbling to ruins.

The red shockwave condensed into a ghastly form—a spectral figure resembling Avilius Cato, complete with hair. It was Avilius's Immortal spirit.

At that moment, Al recognized it as the sign Viktor had foretold. Around 40 Dawn-keepers redirected their focus toward the immortal spirit of Avilius. Fire spells erupted from their hands, converging upon the ghostly form.

Amidst the chaos, Al's heart raced. He sought Kesha, scanning the surroundings in vain. The female cultivators were nowhere to be seen.

With a missing leg and losing large amounts of blood, Al felt a tumultuous surge of his Stubborn Will, yearning to break free. However, without the means to fully manifest it, his desperation only grew.

In the bloodshed, Benjamin's teachings resurfaced in Al's mind. Uncharacteristically, he allowed his seething rage to subside as Benjamin had instructed. He released the tight grip of attachment to his etheric shell and instead recalled the feeling of being one with it. "I am," Al whispered, his words carrying a profound weight.

As if reality itself had been altered, an inexplicable shift occurred. Like a sudden Mandela effect, Al held something he hadn't moments before.

A line of guards began closing in on them from the front, their shotguns aimed at the prisoners in the lead. They fired without a second thought. The scene unfolded into a nightmarish scene of gore and carnage.

Amid the relentless assault, the surviving prisoners who had rushed the fence abruptly turned, fleeing toward Viktor and Avilius. Viktor had done as promised, securing his etheric shell.

A guard trained his shotgun on Al, taking careful aim at his head before pulling the trigger, but the shot missed its mark. To the guard's astonishment, Al's missing limb had miraculously regenerated.

Al, seemingly defying death, grasped an object that should never have been in his hands. He had somehow summoned his etheric shell, wielding it to strike the guard in the throat, ending his life in a gruesome manner.

As the tumultuous scene unfolded, Al couldn't help but think of his brief mentor, Benjamin, who had imparted the knowledge necessary for him to summon his etheric shell despite being separated from it. In that moment, Al was acutely aware of the profound debt he owed the man he had begun to doubt.

The remaining guards, confronted by the shocking sight of their comrade taken out and Al seemingly regenerated from the brink of death, recoiled in terror.

Panic gripped them, and they turned their weapons toward Al, unleashing a barrage of firepower. Al, now reunited with his etheric shell, endured the relentless onslaught, regenerating each time he was blasted. The guards continued firing until their ammunition was depleted.

"He's demon-possessed! Run!" one of the guards screamed, their fear palpable. They were ordinary humans, unaware of the intricacies of the Will and the supernatural forces at play. Al, showing restraint and a sense of mercy, did not pursue them. He recognized that they were unwitting pawns caught in a situation far beyond their comprehension.

“Kesha!” He thought and turned around and saw the spirit of Avilius and 9 others including Viktor defending themselves and the surviving prisoners against the onslaught of over 20 Dawn-keepers.

Avilius, despite being reduced to his Immortal spirit, demonstrated incredible prowess. He conjured five drops of reddish liquid that withered a substantial portion of the flame spells the Dawn-keepers had unleashed.

Simultaneously, Viktor and the other eight cultivators unleashed their spells, resulting in a chaotic clash, spells canceling each other out in a dazzling display of power.

The five drops surged forth, breaking through the aftermath of the clash and homing in on five of the Dawn-keepers. Swiftly, the drops corroded their forms, reducing them to dust. All of this unfolded in a fraction of a second after Al had turned his gaze.

However, before Al could take another step, the air was ripped apart by another massive explosion. The distinct sound of women's screams followed suit, ringing in his ears. Without hesitation, Al propelled himself toward the epicenter, sprinting with all his might toward the yard where the battle between Avilius and the Dawn-keepers raged on.

Viktor caught sight of Al, clutching what he guessed to be Al's etheric shell. The sight defied all logic to Viktor, given that only he and the eight others had entered the building to retrieve their etheric shells.

The pouch, Avilius's etheric shell, was the sole exception.

Even Avilius, the Immortal figure himself, gazes in Al's direction. His expression betrayed no astonishment; rather, it seemed he had made a connection, fitting two puzzle pieces together.

Ignoring the curious glances, Al pressed forward, determined to reach the source of the explosion. As he closed the distance, he was met with a breathtaking sight: seven women engaged in combat with a massive lion composed of radiant light, a colossal creature spanning about forty feet.

Among these valiant fighters, Al's eyes locked onto Kesha. Her skin bore an almost metallic sheen, yet her right arm bore a grievous wound.