According to Silas, the prison was built like a labyrinth in that it had levels. Security thickened the deeper you descended, each level below locking away increasingly dangerous captives.

The lowest level — where Rhys' execution was meant to take place — housed the Marauders. The monsters were locked behind ancient runes and rusted chains.

The mid-levels — where Silas and Goro had been kept — held the most dangerous prisoners. They weren't just criminals; they were rebels, traitors, and those who had dared to defy the Empire. Now, those very inmates were unraveling the prison from within — fighting guards, or running for their lives from the Marauders still tearing through the lower floors.

And at the top — the upper levels — were the petty criminals: thieves, swindlers, and nobles' scapegoats.

That's where Rhys and his group were headed.

Because at the very top lay the main prison quarters and barracks — the final obstacle between them and the main gate.

Rhys' plan was simple — if anything in this nightmare could be called simple.

Use the chaos as cover.

Let the prisoners clash with the guards, the Marauders would tear through anything in their path, and slip through the turmoil unnoticed. The prisoners and guards weren't just distractions — they were shields. Rhys had no intention of getting caught between the creatures he unleashed and the guards bent on restoring order.

Silas would guide them and Goro would clear their path if anything got in the way.

***

As they ascended the worn stone steps to the next level, Rhys broke the silence.

"How many more guards might we run into?" he asked, his voice low but steady.

Silas didn't stop moving, his eyes darting ahead as they rounded the next corridor.

"Hard to say. The deeper the level, the fewer guards. But as we climb…"

He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Rhys narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"The upper levels won't just have regular guards."

"What does that mean?"

A pause. Then:

"Some of them may be Eshe Users."

Rhys' steps faltered for half a beat. "Eshe Users? You mean prisoners like us?"

"No." Silas shook his head, his voice colder now. "Eshe Users who work for the Empire. The ones who defected."

Rhys' stomach knotted. "They turned against their own?"

Silas let out a short, humourless laugh.

"What 'own'? There's no unity anymore, Master Rhys. The moment the Emperor outlawed Eshe, they stopped being a people — and became the hunters and the hunted."

Rhys said nothing.

Silas spoke again. "Not all Eshe Users resist the Empire. Some kneel. They're given power and authority — so long as they help hunt down their own kind."

The thought churned in Rhys' mind like a storm.

"So we could run into them?"

"Not could," Silas said grimly. "Will. It's only a matter of time."

Rhys didn't reply. He simply cursed in his mind.

With my luck, I predict that will be pretty soon.

They pressed on, making sure to lead what was left of the prisoner's with them. On the way, they made sure to free more inmates from the higher floors as they went. The noise of screams, inhuman howls and skin tearing echoed from below, serving as motivation to move quickly before death catches up.

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Then they reached the top floors. The alarms still wailed overhead, a shrill, unrelenting reminder that time was slipping through their fingers.

Silas signalled for them to stop just outside the main hall.

The chamber ahead was wide and unforgiving — towering iron gates, barred windows high above, and the distant silhouette of the main gate — their way out.

But the hall was crawling with guards.

They weren't panicked like the ones below. These guards stood braced, their weapons ready, a thin but unyielding line between the prisoners and freedom.

There was no slipping through this unnoticed.

Then, one of the prisoners — a towering mass of muscle almost as big as Goro — lost patience.

"Screw you! These bastards are dying right now. Move out the way or you die too!"

"Yeah!"

The other prisoners were as riled up as he was and trying to bring them under control at this point was just futile.

He shot a look at Goro, lifting a hand just as the giant tensed — a silent order to stand down.

It's actually better this way. Rhys thought

With no pushback, the prisoners exploded into the main hall, with Muscles leading the charge. Needless to say, a battle erupted.

***

The top floor roared with chaos.

The stone corridor spilled into a wide chamber — the prison's main hall — lined with towering iron gates and barred windows too high to reach. The air was thick with the stink of sweat, blood, and the lingering scent of something burning.

And it was war.

A wave of prisoners, wild-eyed and bloodied, surged up the staircase with Rhys, Silas, and Goro moving in their midst like ghosts. They kept low, letting the chaotic flow of bodies swallow them whole, using the riot as a shield.

Screams echoed as guards clashed with the escaping prisoners, steel ringing against steel. Some of the inmates had managed to arm themselves with weapons looted from the fallen—broken spears, stolen daggers, even shards of iron from the shattered cells.

A guard was dragged down, his helmet ripped away as a prisoner drove a rusted shank into his neck. Blood sprayed the stone.

Another guard swung a club, breaking the arm of an inmate before smashing his head into the wall.

"Stay close," Rhys muttered, his voice low and sharp. "Don't draw attention."

Goro moved like a mountain, silent but ready. Silas kept his head down, his gaze flicking toward every possible exit.

The main gate was ahead — an enormous, reinforced door framed by steel beams. Their way out.

But there was a problem.

The guards were holding.

At first, it seemed the sheer number of prisoners would overwhelm the thin line of soldiers—but then, the tide shifted.

It was subtle at first — a sudden precision in the way the guards moved. No longer just bracing against the riot — they were carving through it.

And Rhys saw why.

The Eshe User guards had entered the fray.

The first one moved like a shadow, his form a blur as he weaved between prisoners, a short blade flicking out like a serpent's fang. Wherever he passed, men fell, clutching their throats, blood pooling at their feet.

Another Eshe User, taller and clad in dark leather armour, raised his hand — the air around him twisted. With a single motion, a prisoner was flung back into the wall by an unseen force, his spine snapping on impact.

Then a third — a woman with glowing red tattoos spiralling up her neck — ignited the very air around her. Flames licked at her fingertips before surging forward, engulfing three prisoners in a fiery wave. Their screams were short-lived.

The slaughter had begun.

Rhys' heart pounded. "They're cutting them down…"

Silas' face was grim. "The Eshe Users have taken the field."

The prisoners' momentum broke.

Fear rippled through their ranks as the brutal efficiency of the Eshe guards spread like poison. Some inmates tried to flee — only to be cut down from behind. Others fought harder, more desperate, but it was clear now:

This wasn't a battle anymore, the guards were just clearing the field of pests.

Rhys clenched his jaw. They couldn't afford to be caught in this.

"We need to move—now."

They broke away from the crowd, slipping through the cracks in the violence. Silas led them along the wall, sticking to the shadows as the guards focused on the larger threat — the prisoners.

A sudden explosion of flame illuminated the hall, casting long, jagged shadows along the walls. More screams. The scent of burning flesh filled Rhys' nose.

The main gate loomed ahead. It was massive and reinforced. But ajar — likely forced open when the riot began.

Freedom was so close Rhys could taste it.

But then—

A figure stepped into their path.

His armour was sleeker — black steel etched with glowing violet runes. His exposed arm bore a tattoo, spiralling up his forearm and disappearing beneath his sleeve. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.

An Eshe User.

His presence seemed to distort the air around him — subtle, like a ripple in water.

Rhys' breath hitched. The man's eyes flicked over them, calm and calculated — before his gaze settled on Rhys.

"So you're the ones who unleashed the Marauders and began this frenzy," the guard said, his voice a calm ripple beneath the chaos. "I hope you didn't think you'd leave here alive."

Silas' hand drifted to his side — where a stolen dagger hung from his belt. Goro's knuckles whitened.

Rhys kept his face neutral, but his mind was racing.

They couldn't fight this man — not head-on.

The Eshe guard's tattoo flared slightly, and Rhys felt it — a sudden shift in the air pressure, like the world itself was leaning toward the man's will. The three men's bodies suddenly became too heavy for them.

"A Gravity Aspect?" Silas muttered under his breath.

Whatever it was, the weight of it settled in his bones.

The guard tilted his head, his tattoo pulsing brighter now. "I suggest you surrender."

A pause.

Then Rhys smiled softly — a calculated flicker of charm.

"After you."

And then the room seemed to fold inward as the Eshe User moved.