The escape plan was simple, extravagant, and elegant… Though Dima would have probably argued against the latter, had he not been so exhausted and mentally drained. Resting on a concrete floor wasn’t exactly luxurious, and combined with everything my bodymate had been through recently… Well, inhabiting someone else’s body—especially for the first time—takes a serious toll on one’s mental health. Even I hadn’t adapted that quickly back when I first attempted it, and I was already a demon of considerable rank by then.
In short, by morning, Dima had come to terms with everything he had endured since his death, and his mental clarity suffered noticeably. It was one of those “Wait, that wasn’t a dream?” moments. This is a common reaction to pushing past one’s limits in a state of shock—feeling invincible at the time, only to crash hard the next day. Adrenaline, magical and mental overload, the whole package.
Ah, back to the escape plan. It truly was simple, extravagant, and elegant in its own way! I suggested we treat our beloved guards to something akin to a sauna—with one small twist. Instead of steam, I planned to use pre-prepared spheres filled with noxious smoke. Think of it as an industrial-grade pepper spray.
We decided to set the plan into motion immediately—well, more accurately, *I* decided after a brief discussion. Dima clearly needed a distraction, and nothing diverts your thoughts like a good fight! So, while I topped off our energy reserves by harvesting what necrotic essence I could from the nearby cells, my companion was trying to psych himself up for the upcoming escape.
"Hey, Vulkan, are you sure this will work?" he asked, his voice less resistant but still tinged with worry.
His doubt wasn’t baseless. I’d shown him the results of my earlier recon mission, which understandably dampened his enthusiasm. Who wouldn’t feel a bit daunted, knowing how much security awaited us upstairs if we failed to sneak out?
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"If I wasn’t sure, I’d have come up with something better," I replied dismissively. "And didn’t you say yesterday we could take on all of them?"
Dima had no rebuttal to that. Muttering a sheepish “Yeah, I might’ve said that,” he stuck his spectral head outside the cell. Clearly, just sitting inside his own body as a “voice in my head” didn’t appeal to him much. I could sympathize. The sensation of complete lack of control—even being unable to blink at will—is unnerving, even for me.
But a more pressing issue became evident—one I’d anticipated but was no less serious. The mortal body, with its hormones, fatigue, and now a stress-induced headache compounded by my anxious cohabitant, was influencing me directly rather than indirectly. After all, this body wasn’t just an avatar; it required a more careful approach. Typically, I could ignore the health of my hosts unless it was contractually mandated.
Most frustratingly, even in spectral form, it was hard to be fully myself. That would need addressing eventually—but for now, my priority was to upgrade our “prisoner” status to “free man.”
After fully charging my core with necrotic energy, which was immediately put to use, I approached the familiar steel door. The fifth core of fusion (not to be confused with smelting!) activated, melting the steel into a mirror-like puddle on the floor. Next, I used the sixth core’s reconstruction ability, shaping the molten metal into several short throwing knives. Not ideal for close-quarters combat, but far better than nothing.
The entire process took about a minute and consumed a significant amount of energy, but the result was worth it. Securing the makeshift blades to one side of my core like a utility belt, I set off down the corridor.
Dima floated ahead, scouting and reporting on the situation, while I mentally reviewed our next steps. Surprisingly, he adapted quickly and could now transmit what he saw directly to me by sharing fragments of his memory. For now, this was limited to real-time visuals, but it was more than sufficient for our needs.
The lower level’s security was lighter than I expected—just under two dozen guards. No replacements had been sent for the five who’d gone missing, which worked heavily in my favor. It seemed the gnome—or whoever was in charge—grossly underestimated the prisoners, viewing the reduced guard numbers as a natural and insignificant occurrence.
The part of the basement near the stairs to the surface was well-occupied. On the right side of the corridor, the walls of a dozen standard cells had been broken through and sealed with ordinary doors, forming what appeared to be a makeshift barracks. On the left side were storerooms of various sizes and purposes. It was in one of these that our first targets were currently located.