At dawn, the Puppet Guards arrived at Dante’s cell as usual. But this time, they brought along a heavily armed Sentinel and an Enforcer. The combination immediately gave a sense of foreboding.

Dante wasn’t sure if this Enforcer was the same one who had tasked him with monitoring Bidenson. They all looked identical, with that unsettling mechanical precision shared by the Puppet Guards.

“Prisoner Dante Cthulu,” the Enforcer announced in its cold, emotionless tone. “I am here to escort you to the Frontier Bastion for your external assignment.”

The clipped way it spoke suggested it wasn’t the same Enforcer as before. Dante raised an eyebrow but didn’t bother questioning it. “Understood. I’m ready,” he said, adjusting the black-and-white striped prison uniform he’d worn for nearly 300 years.

Stepping out of his cell, Dante followed the Enforcer. Behind him, the Sentinel loomed in silence, its weapon faintly glowing in the dim light. Dante could feel its gaze on him, a constant reminder of the strict watch he was under.

“Dante!” came a familiar voice from down the corridor. He turned to see Ares waving enthusiastically, holding the absurd ceremonial altar he always seemed to carry. “I’ll pray for you!” Ares declared with a wide grin.

Dante sighed but gave him a small nod. There was no point humoring Ares’s strange habits now.

As they moved through the endless, twisting passages of the prison, Dante caught sight of Grululu. The small gray alien was being led by a Puppet Guard, his tiny frame radiating sadness. His hands were scarred and twisted, and his large black eyes reflected unspoken pain.

Dante’s stomach tightened. Grululu was one of his only friends here—alongside Ares. He wanted to call out but couldn’t find the words. What could he do, after all? He was just another powerless prisoner.

Lost in thought, Dante almost didn’t notice when they entered an ancient corridor. The tunnel was completely sealed, made of an unrecognizable blend of metal and stone. Its walls were covered in strange, faded runes that still glowed faintly, their meaning long forgotten but their power undiminished.

This was the path to the Frontier Bastion.

The area was heavily guarded. Unlike the Puppet Guards, the personnel here seemed almost human, their polished armor gleaming in the dim, ethereal light. Their imposing presence sent a chill through Dante, and his heart pounded as he realized he was standing at the edge of the outside world—a place he’d only imagined in fragmented glimpses.

They stopped short of entering the corridor. Dante couldn’t resist breaking the tense silence. “What are we waiting for?”

“You will not be traveling alone,” the Enforcer said, its glowing eyes narrowing as if in warning. “Three other prisoners will accompany you. They will form your team.”

Dante’s thoughts spun. He remembered Matheson’s writings about missions outside the prison walls. Were these teammates reliable? Or would they drag him down? The uncertainty left him uneasy.

Minutes later, the others arrived:

The Blue-Haired Youth

He was lean and moved with the agility of a cat. His electric blue hair shimmered faintly, catching the light as if it held its own energy. His piercing golden eyes scanned the area calmly, exuding confidence. Though he looked human, there was something undeniably alien about him.

The Rat-Hybrid

Stocky and jittery, he had the body of a man but the head and tail of a rat. Scruffy fur covered his frame, giving him a rough, unkempt appearance. His sharp teeth gleamed in a sly grin, and his small, darting eyes constantly analyzed his surroundings with sharp cunning.

The Stone Woman

Towering and solid, she was a living statue of jagged stone, her body shot through with glowing veins of crystal. Her sharp, angular features carried a commanding presence, and her glowing eyes radiated wisdom and patience. Despite her heavy, rocky appearance, her movements were smooth and graceful, defying her seemingly immovable form.

“Move,” the Enforcer ordered sharply, cutting off any chance of introductions as it led them into the corridor.

The Enforcer approached a circular stone mechanism embedded in the wall. Pressing its hand to the surface, the runes flared to life, flooding the corridor with brilliant light. Before Dante could react, the air seemed to twist around him, yanking the group forward as if they’d been pulled into a vortex.

Dante felt his body spinning out of control, completely disoriented by the deafening roar of the energy storm engulfing him. His screams were lost in the chaos, leaving him powerless as he was dragged through the turbulent void.

When the overwhelming light finally dimmed, he hit the ground hard on what felt like cold, unyielding stone. Pain shot through his body, and he groaned as he tried to regain his senses. Slowly, he pushed himself up, taking in his surroundings.

This was the Frontier Bastion.

Perched on the edge of the Endless Prison, the Frontier Bastion overlooked a vast, desolate landscape. Its towering walls, etched with the scars of time and countless battles, stood like a grim guardian against the chaos beyond. It marked the border between two extremes: the suffocating, orderly confines of the Outer Layer Prison and the unpredictable expanse stretching into the unknown.

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This was where oppressive order met untamed wilds—a boundary as perilous as it was mysterious. Yet even beyond the horizon, the ominous Dead Fog lingered, reminding everyone that no matter how far this world stretched, it was still part of the same inescapable prison.

The bastion itself buzzed with activity. Unlike the dreary halls of the prison, this place teemed with purpose. Uniformed personnel—distinct from the typical guards—moved quickly and deliberately, operating strange machines, manipulating glowing holograms, and speaking into arcane communication devices. It resembled a high-tech command center, where every movement seemed calculated.

Dante’s curiosity flared as he observed the scene. What were they coordinating? Who or what were they preparing to face? But before he could linger on the thought, the Enforcer motioned for the group to follow.

They descended on a massive, rune-inscribed stone platform, which lowered them to the ground level—a sprawling, heavily fortified area lined with sealed metal doors. Each door bore strange, cryptic markings that hinted at the mysterious and likely dangerous contents within.

The group was ushered into a sterile chamber with a single table at its center. Four sets of clothing were laid out, each tailored to fit the unique forms of the group.

“Change,” the Enforcer ordered curtly.

Dante approached the table and found his outfit: a simple yet functional tunic made from coarse fabric, accented with faded silk. Compared to his worn prison uniform, it felt like a luxury. He changed quickly, appreciating even the smallest improvement in comfort.

When everyone had finished changing, the Enforcer produced a small black box from its cloak. From it, four small, ominous black pills emerged, held up like a grim promise.

“Swallow these immediately,” it commanded. “If you attempt to flee during your mission, the pill will activate. Your souls will burn to nothing. The antidote is with me. Complete your task, and you will receive it. Understood?”

Dante had expected this, having read about it in Matheson’s journal. He masked his thoughts and swallowed the pill without hesitation. The others, however, were visibly shaken. Their despairing faces revealed any fleeting hope of escape had been thoroughly crushed.

Satisfied they had complied, the Enforcer outlined their assignments:

Dante: Assist the Beastkeepers in cleaning the pens of their creatures.

Edess, the blue-haired youth: Feed the beasts.

Moody, the rat-like hybrid: Exterminate parasites infesting the creatures.

Kunth, the stone woman: Patrol the perimeter of the enclosures, ensuring nothing entered—or escaped.

The tasks seemed mundane, almost insultingly simple. Dante’s companions grumbled quietly, dismissing the assignments as busywork. But Dante’s unease deepened.

Matheson’s journal had mentioned Ashveil’s large population. Surely, they had enough locals to handle such duties. Why involve prisoners in something so routine? The question gnawed at him, but answers were elusive. Perhaps Matheson’s accounts were too outdated to apply. After all, Ashveil could have changed in the centuries since those entries were written.

Still, Dante couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this assignment than met the eye.

As the group followed the Enforcer through a wide corridor, lined with imposing armored sentinels, the air grew heavier with authority. The sound of their boots echoed ominously as they approached an enormous metallic gate. Towering and foreboding, it radiated both grandeur and menace.

The gate opened with a grinding hum, revealing something almost alien to Dante: sunlight.

Warm rays touched his skin, a sensation that felt like a distant memory. A soft, dry breeze brushed against his face, carrying the faintest promise of freedom. For a fleeting moment, Dante let himself savor it. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen sunlight, let alone felt its warmth.

But the reality of his situation quickly set in. He might be outside the prison walls, but he was no freer than before. The ever-present Dead Fog hung on the horizon like a noose, a constant reminder that this world—no matter how vast—was still a prison.

Why waste time thinking about it? Just enjoy the moment, he thought, scolding himself.

His reflection didn’t last long.

“Move forward!” the Enforcer ordered. “The Armed Sentinels will take charge from here. Make sure you complete your tasks properly.”

The command pulled him back to reality. Under the watchful eyes of the towering Armed Sentinels, Dante and the others stepped onto the ground of the Outer Territories. Behind them, the fortress’s massive gates groaned shut, making it clear they were cut off from the relative safety—or confinement—of the Frontier Bastion.

Dante glanced back for one final look at the towering, fortress-like structure. Something about its sheer size stirred questions in his mind—unspoken, puzzling thoughts. What was its true purpose?

The morning sun provided some comfort, but by midday, it turned into a relentless blaze. Sweat dripped from Dante’s brow, though he welcomed the sensation. The other prisoners weren’t as tolerant.

Edess, the blue-haired youth, groaned as he wiped his forehead. “This is awful. I miss the endless moonlight back in the prison. At least it didn’t roast you alive.”

“I hear that,” Moody chimed in, his long rat-like tail swinging lazily behind him. He panted, tongue hanging out, and added, “The moonlight felt safe, cozy. This damned sun makes me feel... exposed.”

Kunth, the quiet stone woman, stayed silent. Her face showed no signs of discomfort—in fact, she seemed calm. The sunlight reflected off her mineral-like skin, making it shimmer like polished crystal. As a being tied to the elements, she appeared just as comfortable under the sun as she would under the moon.

Dante saw an opportunity to start a conversation. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you?” he asked, his tone light yet curious. “In the prison, it’s always moonlight—unchanging and eternal. But out here, there’s a sun. Doesn’t that make you wonder why?”

Edess scoffed. “Who cares? Sun, moon—it makes no difference. We’re prisoners, no matter what’s in the sky.”

“Exactly,” Moody added, casting a wary glance at the Armed Sentinels ahead. “Here or there, we’re still stuck.”

Only Kunth seemed to take Dante’s question seriously. Her angular, stony features softened slightly as she answered, her voice surprisingly gentle—almost musical. “Maybe... the prison is its own world, separate from the Territories,” she suggested.

Dante blinked, caught off guard. Her idea matched his own suspicions. “That could be,” he said, nodding. “But if the Frontier Bastion is part of the prison, why is it outside the moonlit boundary?”

Kunth hesitated, her glowing crystalline eyes narrowing as she thought. “I... I don’t know,” she admitted.

Dante’s mind swirled with questions he didn’t dare speak aloud. Were there more fortresses like this? Who or what were they protecting against? And was the prison really a self-contained world, cut off from everything else?

But before he could think any further, an Armed Sentinel’s sudden shout pierced the air.

“Hostile detected! Prisoners, take cover now!”

Dante’s heart pounded. Whatever was coming, he knew it wouldn’t be good.