Imprisoned.

“So, this is what it feels like to be locked up in a dungeon,” I muttered, sitting against the cold stone wall. Around me, several other unfortunate souls lingered in silence, their luck having run out just like mine.

Prisoners were scattered throughout the cell—some sitting, others leaning against the damp walls. A few looked young, barely past their teenage years, while others bore the weight of age in their weary expressions. One man, his face marred by a deep scar, had the hardened look of someone who had seen more than his fair share of battle. Perhaps a criminal of some renown. The rest, however, seemed like ordinary folk—peasants, beggars, people who had likely been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Occasionally, the guards passed by, their armored boots echoing against the stone floor. Each time they glanced our way, their faces twisted with disdain, as if the very sight of us was offensive. I couldn’t blame them. Dungeons were meant for criminals—thieves, murderers, those who disturbed the peace.

So why was I here?

I, too, wondered how it had come to this.

.

.

.

A few hours earlier.

I had been traveling for quite some time, occasionally stopping to rest. It had been a month now since I began my journey.

Along the way, I passed through several settlements and villages, all bearing the scars of the plague. Many houses stood abandoned, mass graves dotted the land, and those who remained looked weary and hollow. Crops had withered, and livestock were nearly non-existent.

“What has become of this kingdom?” I muttered with concern. It felt as though the very life force of the land had been drained away.

A thought lingered in my mind. With all the dragon’s power I now possess, is there something I can do? But what?

The question troubled me for some time, yet I continued my journey nonetheless.

Eventually, I arrived at one of the main towns of the Kingdom of Aethria—Armskirk.

I remembered it as a lively place, bustling with people going about their business, markets brimming with goods, and streets filled with chatter and laughter. That memory had been shattered.

Now, the town was bleak. The streets were unkempt, beggars and homeless souls huddled in every corner, and the once-thriving shops and houses had fallen into disrepair. The stench in the air was overwhelming—even more so with my heightened senses.

As I walked through the town streets, a group of ruffians—at least, that’s what they seemed to be—suddenly appeared out of nowhere, running frantically as if fleeing from someone. There were five of them, dressed in tattered clothes and worn cloaks.

One of them, in his haste, bumped into my side and fell to the ground. I, on the other hand, didn’t budge an inch.

“Gahhh…” he groaned before scrambling back to his feet and continuing his escape.

I noticed he had dropped something—a package wrapped in a worn cloth. It looked like fruit and other food items. Picking it up, I called out, “Hey, you dropped something!”

But they didn’t stop. They kept running, completely ignoring my words.

“Hey, you there! Hand that over!” A voice came from behind me.

I turned to see a town guard approaching, looking furious. It didn’t take long to realize the ruffians were running because they had stolen food item. Unfortunately, the guard, unable to catch up to the real thieves, turned his suspicion on me.

“You’re one of them, aren’t ya?” he said, pointing at the stolen goods in my hand.

“Wait, what?” I said, shocked. “No, I’m not—”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my arm. “Off to the dungeon with you.”

No matter what excuse I gave, he refused to listen. At first, I thought about resisting. I knew I had the strength to break free, but then a thought crossed my mind.

I wondered what it would be like to be locked up. I had never experienced it before. Besides, I had nothing to lose—I could escape anytime I wanted, and nothing could harm me anyway.

So, I let go of my resistance. The guard, who had been struggling to even move me an inch, suddenly found it easy to drag me away. And just like that, I let myself be taken.

.

.

.

As I sat inside the dungeon, I chuckled a little, amused by my circumstances. It was almost funny—my first grand adventure, and here I was, locked up in a dungeon.

I took a deep breath, observing my surroundings and thinking about what I should do next. The wooden bars of the dungeon were well-built, sturdy. If I were an ordinary human, there would be no way to break them. But I wasn’t normal at all. With my dragon strength, I could snap them effortlessly. Even the brick walls wouldn’t hold me back.

But why bother? I wanted to see how this would play out—what the guards would do, how things would unfold. Somehow, the thought excited me more than it should have.

"Then, suddenly, the guard arrived, dragging in several new captives—three of them, actually."

“Get in there,” the guard ordered before kicking one of the captives forward.

The captive fell hard, face-first onto the ground, letting out a weak groan. Another, seeing this, attempted to retaliate.

“How dare you—” he snarled, charging at the guard.

But before he could reach him, the guard slammed the dungeon door shut, locking it right in his face.

“I’ll get you for that, I swear!” he shouted, gripping the wooden bars in frustration.

“Gahhh…” He let out another angry scream.

“Poor things,” I muttered under my breath.

The newcomers took their places at the opposite end of the dungeon. I glanced at them, uninterested at first—until something clicked.

“Wait a minute,” I murmured, narrowing my eyes.

The one who had threatened the guard—the one seething with rage—was the same person who had bumped into me earlier. The same group of ruffians.

If not for them, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

As they steadied themselves and tended to their peer’s wound from the fall, I slowly approached them.

“Ahem…” I cleared my throat.

Noticing my presence, one of them—the one who shouted at the guard earlier—stepped in front of the others two, as if shielding them.

He looked young, probably in his late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, judging by his features.

“What do you want?” he asked harshly, his tone tense, still riled up from the earlier encounter with the guard.

I got straight to the point. “Do you recall bumping into someone on the street before?”

“What do you mean?” he said, still irritated.

“Well, as I was walking down the street earlier, a group of people came rushing in and bumped into me. One of them dropped a package, which turned out to be stolen goods. I picked it up, and coincidentally, the guards showed up right after and accused me of the stolen goods. And just like that, I ended up here," I said, explaining what happened.

“That…” He stopped mid-thought, brows furrowed, as if piecing things together.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He suddenly spoke again. “So, you want payback, is that it?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his assumption. Before I could say anything, he continued.

“Well then, if me bumping into you got you locked up in here, I’ll take responsibility.” He took a step forward, tilting his head to the side. “Go on, punch me once. Then we’re even, and you can leave us alone.”

I was surprised by his reaction—he seemed completely serious.

“No, I didn’t ask for any payback. I just want to talk,” I said, trying to reassure him.

“Huh?” He blinked, confused. “What are you on about?” His tone carried more annoyance than ever.

“Col,” one of his peers called out.

At his side, leaning onto his arm, his peer—who seemed much younger than both of them—looked awfully unwell.

“Arne needs medical aid, fast,” he said, his voice tight with worry.

Col, the one I presumed was standing in front of me, seemed agitated—probably more worried about his younger peer than dealing with me.

Then it hit me—I remembered I had a small lesser health potion, which Mr. Gillman had given to me before I set out on my journey, though I never really needed it. Coincidentally, when the guards confiscated my broken sword, they had not bothered to check the rest of my belongings. The potion, tucked safely in my cloak’s hidden pocket, had gone unnoticed.

Without wasting time, I pulled it out and handed it over to Col.

“Here, use this. It’s a health potion,” I said.

At first, he looked uncertain, but reluctantly, he took the potion and quickly handed it to his sick peer. I sat not far from them, watching as they tended to him.

A while passed, and their sick peer seemed stable. He slept soundly, and I could see the relief on their faces. From my observation, the one who had fallen ill was just a boy, and the other two acted like brothers to him—though that was just my assumption.

Col moved and sat next to me. “I don’t know who you are, but you have my thanks,” he said. His tone was a bit shy and uncertain. He didn’t even look at me as he spoke.

“No problem,” I answered. “Glad your friend over there is alright.”

“You wanted to talk?” Col asked abruptly.

He then continued, “I’m sorry if I’m the reason you got locked up in here. Back then, I wasn’t looking where I was running—I just ran.” His words were genuine. I could tell he meant what he said.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind, actually. I could’ve run, but I decided not to. Besides, I always wondered what it’d feel like to be locked up in a dungeon,” I said, explaining that I didn’t take offense to his actions.

Col gave me a weird look. “You’re a weird one. Who in their right mind would want to spend time in captivity?”

I chuckled. “Probably me… Ha, ha, ha.” I let out a small laugh.

Col didn’t say anything at first, but I noticed him frown, seemingly in disbelief over what he had just heard. Eventually, though, he let out a chuckle. “Yeah, you really are.”

With that, the tension between us eased.

“What happened?” I asked. “You guys don’t seem like common thieves to me.”

Honestly, they looked more like beggars than thieves—unkempt and disorganized.

“We’re not thieves,” Col answered. “We just… got hungry.” His tone was heavy, tinged with sadness.

They did look malnourished. Their thin frames barely held any weight, their bones visible beneath their skin.

“What happened to this town and the region around here?” I asked again.

Col’s weary eyes studied me curiously. “What, have you been living under a rock?”

I gave an awkward smile. “I’ve been away for quite some time—more than ten years, actually. I just got back.”

Col shot me a doubtful look, but he answered anyway. “War. The whole kingdom is at war, and this town, like all the others, has fallen apart.”

“War with whom? A neighboring kingdom? Barbarians?” I pressed, eager to know more.

Col took a deep breath. “It’s a civil war. After King Godwin died, his brother, Sir Burchard, claimed the throne and rejected Princess Alicia—King Godwin’s only daughter and rightful heir.”

I was stunned. My mouth might have even hung open a little in disbelief.

“But that’s not the worst part,” Col continued, his tone grim.

“What?” I asked, leaning in slightly.

"The military general, Kenric the Fearless, staged a coup, and several rebel factions rose among the citizens who opposed the Royal Family," he said, his voice laced with gloom.

He then added, “What you’re seeing now is the result of their war. We were left to fend for ourselves.”

There was a brief silence between us.

“Col, is it?” I began. “Do you live in this town? Where are your parents? Your family? Are these two your brothers?” I asked curiously.

He was quiet for a while, probably contemplating how to answer.

Then, he spoke. “I lost my father to the war. He was forced to take up arms and join the army. My mother succumbed to the plague… so did my other siblings.” His tone carried a deep sadness.

He turned his gaze toward the two beside him and said, “We were all victims of the war and plague. Though we’re not related by blood, we banded together to survive.”

With a heavy sigh, he continued, “We were never thieves—never wanted to be. But what choice did we have? We had to survive. I don’t want to rot in a dungeon, not when there are people still counting on me.”

The despair on his face was clear. His words carried a weight that made the air feel heavier. Yet, I found myself unable to say anything.

“Should I end this war?” The thought crept into my mind.

With the Dragon’s power flowing through me, I could crush any foe—an entire kingdom’s army wouldn’t stand a chance. I could force them to stop fighting altogether.

But I knew it wasn’t that simple. Stepping in could make things worse.

“What should I do?” I wondered.

Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted outside. Though unclear, it sounded like screams—people crying out in panic.

“What in the…?” Before I could finish my thought, the guards stationed inside the dungeon rushed toward the entrance, their heavy boots echoing through the stone walls.

The prisoners grew restless, shifting uneasily. One of them hurried to a small barred window, pressing his face against the wooden slats. Though the opening was barely large enough for him to see through, whatever he glimpsed made him recoil.

“Ah!” he gasped; his voice laced with fear. “We’re under attack!”

A wave of unease spread through the cell.

“Attacked? By who?” someone demanded.

Speculation ran rampant. The once-dull atmosphere of the dungeon shifted into chaos.

“It must be the rebel faction!” one prisoner exclaimed.

“No, it’s General Kenric’s forces. They must be tightening their grip on the town.”

Tension rose as voices clashed.

“I heard the rebels raided a neighbouring town just yesterday.”

“This is bad. I don’t want to be thrown back into war—I just escaped from one,” another muttered.

“We need to get out of here!” someone else hissed. “The rebels use prisoners like us for hard labor. Some are even forced to fight.”

In the farthest corner, an older prisoner spoke in a trembling voice, barely more than a whisper.

“I… I don’t want to go to war.”

His fear was palpable, a sentiment many here likely shared.

At that very moment, an idea sprang forth.

"I could use this chance to escape," I thought.

I glanced at Col and his peers. Their expressions were darkened with worry, uncertainty clouding their faces.

"Col," I called out. "Be ready—we’re getting out of here."

"What?" Col asked, puzzled.

I gave him a reassuring smile. "Just stay put for now. The moment that door opens, we’re making a run for it."

I shifted my focus toward the dungeon door. A heavy, sturdy metal lock secured it, the kind that would normally require a key. But I didn’t need a key. I planned to crush it with my bare hand.

While the rest of the prisoners were still lost in their worries, I carefully positioned myself in front of the door, blocking their view. I had no intention of letting them see what I was about to do—it would be troublesome to explain my inhuman strength.

Through the gaps in the wooden bars, I grasped the lock with one hand and crushed it effortlessly. Honestly, I barely had to use any force.

"Now," I muttered, pushing the door open.

A prisoner nearby caught sight of it and shouted, "Look! The door—it’s open!"

Instantly, chaos erupted. Without hesitation, the prisoners surged forward, desperate to escape. I stepped aside, anticipating the rush.

"Col!" I called, "Come on, let’s go!"

Col didn’t hesitate. He hoisted Arne onto his back and moved quickly, followed closely by his other peer. As the prisoners shoved and stumbled over one another, I used my body to clear a path for Col and his group.

"What did you just do?" Col asked, eyes filled with curiosity.

"No time for that—you need to get out of here," I reminded him.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I’ll follow soon, but first, I need to retrieve my belongings that the guards took from me.”

Col gave me a firm nod of understanding before pushing onward toward the exit.

I exhaled. "Right. Now to find my sword."

With that, I turned and began my search.

While searching, I could hear the sounds of battle raging outside.

"I need to hurry," I muttered, scouring every nook and corner of the dungeon. Finally, amidst a heap of rusted metal and dilapidated tools, I spotted my broken sword.

"Finally," I breathed, picking it up and tucking it behind me, securing it between my belt.

"Right, time to get out of here."

I rushed toward the exit, but as I neared it, a familiar figure came into view—Col.

A bit shocked, I asked, "Col? What are you doing here? Where are your friends?"

"They're fine," he said hastily. "I came back for you. We need to leave this town—now!"

Without hesitation, I followed him.

We slipped through narrow alleys, ducking between ruined buildings to stay out of sight.

"It’s the rebel forces," Col whispered as we carefully moved between the crumbling structures, avoiding the chaos.

"Where are we headed?" I asked.

"There’s an opening on the eastern side of town. From there, we can enter the forest—my friends are waiting for us," Col answered.

"And then?" I pressed, ducking behind cover as a group of soldiers rushed past, heading toward the battle.

Leaning against a broken stone wall, Col explained, "Beyond the forest, far from this city, there's a refugee camp set up by war survivors. We're heading there."

I gave him a nod of understanding and as soon as the path cleared, we pressed forward.

After a while of running, scurrying through alleys, hiding, and even crawling at times, we finally arrived at the forest’s edge.

"Whew, that was something," I said, catching my breath. Honestly, I felt a bit exhilarated.

"Col," a voice called from behind a bush. A young teenage boy stepped out—someone I hadn’t seen before.

"This is Ralph," Col introduced him. "He’s the one who found the refugee camp."

"Where are Arne and your other friend from the dungeon?" I asked.

"They’re already on their way to the camp," Col replied.

Before I could say anything, Col spoke up, "Let’s go. We have no time to waste."

As Ralph took the lead, I called out, "Wait."

Col stopped in his tracks, looking confused.

"I appreciate your help, truly," I said. "But I have somewhere else to be—a journey I need to fulfil."

The war wasn’t going to stop me from becoming a wanderer. Besides, who could? There’s literally no one capable of stopping me.

"Are you sure?" Col asked, wanting to be certain.

"Yes, I am."

Col stepped forward and raised his hand for a handshake—a farewell gesture.

I shook his hand firmly. "Take care."

"Likewise," he said. "You know, even though we only met for a short while, I really enjoyed your company."

"So did I," I replied with a warm smile.

With that, we went our separate ways.

Before I had walked too far, Col called out to me.

"Hey! I forgot to ask your name!"

I turned back and shouted, "Aldrous! My name is Aldrous!"

"Aldrous," Col repeated. "I’ll remember that." He waved a final goodbye before disappearing into the forest with Ralph.

"Not so bad," I muttered to myself. It had been an interesting experience—getting locked up, escaping a dungeon, and meeting new friends.

As I set off, continuing my journey, a familiar excitement surged within me. I couldn’t wait for my next adventure.