The Arena was in chaos. Patrons and guards alive scrambled in the sea of hoisted mercenary colours back and forth from the epicentre of the explosion. A few customers were oddly rushing towards the madness, likely not to help, but rather to gather dirt on Atro that might be used as leverage, as could be seen from the gleeful grin across a few of the faces of well-dressed dark market dealers.

Arbor's mind wandered to Trini's safety. She would not be in the same room as Atro, and would instead be sequestered on a carriage, ready to leave. According to her, it was the second safest place on the plateau, but in that commotion, he could not entirely be sure.

Raven returned and landed before them at the door to the stairwell, turning back into a dwarf. After reporting the success of her mission, the group made their way to the next destination.

It was the first time they managed to move through The Arena with zero resistance, save for the pull of the waves of crowds. They blended in with tribesmen and mercenaries, their weapons a part of every day in the world of dark.

“It doesn't feel right,” Aramas's voice could be barely heard over the noise.

“What is it?” Raven asked.

“I'm not sure,” replied the brawler. “My brain senses something missing, but I can't quite place my fingers on it.”

Arbor worriedly pushed, “Should we abandon the plan and just make a break for it?”

Langsley barked back, “We're not giving up because of Aramas's fat gut feeling hungry!”

“Hey!”

They ran towards the rear of The Arena and past the entire north wing which was filling with smoke and belching heat from the flames taking place within the loading bay. It was the east wing stairwell that would lead down to Atro's bunker, which he was likely scurried off to the moment the commotion began. They made it to the stairwell entrance where guards had abandoned their posts to either escape for their lives or help with the fire fighting efforts, allowing the group to disappear into the stairway without further resistance.

With each step down, their hearts grew colder. The eastern side of The Arena was the least heated, given that it was also the furthest from the furnace room. And according to Aramas and Trini, it was also the deepest dug of the four stairwells, with an emergency escape at the bottom of it all. The walls were noticeably made of a different stone compared to the others they had been in. Some type of granite with marble veins flowing through them, glowing an eerie blood vessel of white that pulsed in lamp light.

“I'm sorry for that quip about your gut,” Langsley admitted. “I'm starting to feel it too.”

Worried, Enthes questioned, “She would like to know what you two are on about.”

“I'm not quite sure,” the knight admitted. “But it must be minor if it's on the tip of my tongue.”

“Or! Hear me out here,” Arbor interjected, “We play it safe and just get out of here?”

Everyone stopped their movement and turned their heads to him in creepy unison.

“Are you alright, dear?”

“That's it, idiot's scared.”

“I'm not! I'm just feeling the same thing they are.”

Raven retorted, “If we run, we're not getting paid. And I want my house by the river.”

Aramas chimed in, “At this point, I just want to beat the living hell out of At-Tro-Pos.”

“Enthes will go wherever Raven goes.”

Langsley finally commanded, “The vote is in, we're doing this, bad vibes or not.”

Arbor sighed and resigned himself to their fate. Together, they took the steps down in two to make up for lost time. Eventually, the commotion will be settled and Atro would be back in the wind again. Their window was closing fast to catch him in a secluded area with minimum guards. On the third landing down, a large metal door barred the corridor off. According to Trini and Raven, behind it was the safe room.

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Aramas pounded the door, listening to the sound it made before giving himself an assuring nod. Gently, he laid his left palm in the middle seam, carefully adjusting it to the structure's weakest point as the rest stood guard. Raven charged her transformation behind him. The brawler's left arm began glowing red as he pushed heated energy into it. Sweat rolled down his temple as the seconds passed until the metal began to glow its own burning orange. They could hear scrambled exclamations from behind the door, the few words slipping through wondering about the red heat treatment.

One of the guards muttered voice could be heard saying, “What's going on? Are we under attack?”

Aramas breathed, and suddenly hooked a flaming blue right straight onto the treated metal, punching a hole through the thick steel.

“What the heck!” exclaimed a guard.

Aramas pulled his arm back and Raven dashed immediately, transforming speedily through the hole made with sparks of electricity jumping off the surrounding metal. A clap of thunder leapt behind as she broke the sound barrier, further cracking the damaged door. On the opposite end, yelps of surprise were quickly interrupted into jolting screams. They could hear metal being thrown against stone and arrows ricocheting against steel.

A worried Enthes notched an arrow through the hole, waiting for any clear line of sight to aid her lover.

“There's too much movement,” she admitted in frustration.

“Step back,” Aramas said, a pant in his voice. “I'll make another gap.”

The archer did as she was told and Aramas set his palm on another weak spot.

A sudden quiet set over them and Arbor could hear Enthes's voice caught in her throat. The shouts and sounds of battle had died A moment later, they stepped back as the door swung outward, opened from within. Four corpses laid strewn around the dwarf.

The ragged Raven stumbled out into Enthes, who had rushed forward to catch the dwarf in her arms. For the first time, Arbor saw the woman as a shadow of her size. The Tempest Raven, despite their attrition, had always seemed confident to a fault to him. He wondered how much of the blood splattered across her body was hers, though the flow rolling down the shoulder wound of a cut definitely belonged.

“How's that?” Raven managed to joke as Aramas quickly cauterized her wound with his flames.

“You did good.” Langsley nodded affirmatively to her. “Leave the rest to me. Just guard my back.”

The knight then stepped past them further into the corridor. On the opposite end was a simple door of wood which he strode confidently to. The man was a monster in his own rights, the title of Omniknight not being one easily earned. With the right information and battle plan, out of all of them, Ierba Langsley was the one most likely to defeat a Soul Arm wielder. The dark elf watched as the knight's body glowed a shadowy back as the latter charged up a spell to suppress Elmo's Crossfire's flames.

Arbor sighed and stood to his feet, being the last one left of the group either uninjured or unoccupied, he turned his back on them to guard their rear, listening to Langsley's footsteps echoing away.

Raven laughed. “House by the river, here we come.”

With that line, Arbor let out a deep sigh. He could not go through with the plan, at least not all of it. After opening his coat to let Zen walk out, slightly confused as to why she was called early, he knelt down beside his wolf and affectionately palmed under her nuzzle.

“Listen to Enthes from now on, okay?” He instructed. She whined. “And get them out of here safely.”

Aramas stood warily to his feet, a shadowed look dawned over his expression. “Arbor...”

“Deary...” Enthes mouthed. “What did you do?”

The dark elf stood to his feet and looked to Enthes. “I'm sorry. Take Raven and run. He doesn't want you two. Zen will protect you.”

“There was no fighting in the stairwell,” Aramas realized what his gut feeling had been. “We released the gladiators here too, but there weren't any fighting. And there were more guards than we expected on the ground floor as well.”

Enthes looked on the verge of shock. “You betrayed us. The prison break never happened. It's a trap.”

A loud bang turned their attention to the end of the corridor where Langsley had kicked opened the door and unleashed a torrent of dark fire into the room. The flames spewed out of his hands like vomit, expanding with contact to air and enveloping the unseen room behind. So fierce was the force that residue leaked from the edges of the doorway, reaching back out as tendrils of gripping fyre from the deep. It was the most powerful display of dark magic Arbor had ever seen and it would no doubt engulf any flames, even Elmo's Crossfire's blaze. A shame it would not be enough.

Aramas yelled, “Langsley! Stop! He doesn't have Crossfire!”

But it was too late. Fire was but a type of energy. Without any physical form, the wave of water steamrolled through the doorway and smashed into Langsley. The latter put up a light shield yet was still engulfed by the water, though it dampened the force enough that instead of a tidal current, the water crashed against the wall and sloshed meekly down the path, washing up against Arbor's legs.

Langsley's coughing rang through the area as the wave subsided. He was left kneeling halfway away from the door to the safe room where Atro stood in one of his many over indulgent robes, this time made from the fur of silver wolves with snake skin linings, all of which soaked and dripping with not a hint of being scorched. Perhaps it was because the master of The Arena was a sea elf and was now literally standing in his element, but Arbor had never seen him with a grin as murderously joy-filled before.