The world, in its unpredictable grandeur, is a beautiful place. The full moon paints the sky with ethereal light, and in winter, Bangladesh is most beautiful a unique, stark beauty. The world itself is inherently beautiful. Yet, in this temporary existence, the most exquisite beauty lies in death.
Some people fear it, for no one truly knows what awaits beyond the veil. In this profound uncertainty, death's beauty is undeniable. But for Veythor, there was no rest in peace. He had no death, no true cessation, and thus, his life, too, was an empty vessel. Life itself holds no inherent meaning; one must either create it or discover it. Veythor, however, had failed to do so.
Veythor's thoughts were consumed by the airbombs. According to Shimi, they inflicted minimal damage, destined to fail miserably against any formidable foe. Yet, if wielded with cunning and precision, they could become instruments of lethal force. This, he realized, was the key to their escape. He had to use them with utmost care, every action calculated.
Raika and Shimi watched him, their young eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and impatience. "You got any plan, Mr. Genius, or are you just bluffing?" Raika's voice was laced with subtle anger, a challenge in his tone.
"I can't just plan everything ahead. I'm not a god," Veythor retorted, his gaze cold, fixed on Raika.
"Please, stop you two! Now is not the time to fight among ourselves!" Shimi interjected, her voice soft, yet firm, attempting to soothe the rising tension.
"Shimi, how many of those airbombs do you have?" Veythor asked, his voice a low, steady current.
"Eleven," Shimi replied, her voice soft.
"Do you have any other things, other than airbombs?"
Veythor pressed, his demeanor calm, indifferent, a mask of calculated disinterest.Shimi looked down, her gaze fixed on the grimy floor.
"No, I only have a rope and these airbombs.
"Ropes? Veythor's mind, a labyrinth of cold calculations, seized upon the word. Wait, I have an idea.
His eyes widened, a flicker of cold light within their depths. "Let me see the airbombs and ropes."
"Okay," she nodded, a simple, trusting gesture.Suddenly, Raika interrupted, his voice sharp with suspicion.
"Wait, it's risky to just put those things out. If anyone sees, our chances of escape will vanish.
"Veythor felt a flicker of annoyance, a fleeting irritation at the boy's interruption.
"If you understand that, then go forward and keep checking if someone is coming or not. Can't you use your brain?
"Raika clenched his hands, his teeth gritting in silent frustration, but he said nothing. He quietly walked forward, pressing his head against the cold metal bars. He could only see a man, one eye missing, sleeping, leaning against a side.
This guy is sleeping while standing?How does he do that?
Raika wondered, a fleeting, childish curiosity in the face of their grim reality.
"Shimi," Veythor called, his voice a low murmur. She was looking at Veythor's face, her gaze distant, lost in thought. It seemed she was adrift in a daydream.
"Hey." He tried again, but she remained unresponsive, her mind far away.Veythor, with a sigh of exasperation, lightly flicked her forehead.
"Ow!" she yelped, startled, her daydream shattered. "What are you daydreaming about? Be fast, give me those things already.
"Shimi blushed, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks. "W-w-what things?" She was clearly thinking about something indecent, her youthful mind wandering into forbidden territories.
Veythor was genuinely irritated, his patience wearing thin. "Give me the airbombs and rope, airhead!"
"Oh… oh…" She stammered, still blushing, embarrassed by her own thoughts.
"Inventory," she mumbled, and a blue, pocket-like apparition shimmered into existence in the air before them.
What the hell? Veythor thought, a flicker of surprise in his cold eyes. It kind of seems like virtual RPG game mechanics.
She quickly pulled out the airbombs and a long, coiled rope. The airbombs were tiny, the size of a tennis ball, black and metallic. She placed ten of them and the rope on the ground.Veythor stared at those objects for a moment, his mind already weaving a tapestry of escape, a grim dance with fate.
"What's your plan?" Shimi asked, her voice quiet but expectant.
Veythor didn't look at her immediately. He stared at the object in his hand.... the crude metallic sphere known as an airbomb.
"It's simple," he finally said. "But risky."
He paused, eyes flicking toward the other two.
"We move in a pattern.... coordinated, silent. If we time it right, we escape. But first, we need to make these bombs actually useful."
He picked up one of the airbombs and reached for a coil of thick rope lying nearby.
"Damn it," he muttered. "The rope's too long. We need smaller lengths to tie them... but how?"
Raika frowned. "We don't have a knife."For a moment, the silence hung heavy.
Then Shimi smiled... a soft, confident smile that didn't quite match the filth and fear on her face.
"Don't worry. I can cut it."
Veythor looked at her, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "What? How?"
"Just place the rope down."
He didn't argue. He laid it down as instructed.
"Now back off a bit," she said.
He stepped back, watching with a quiet, calculating gaze.
Shimi exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. A faint green aura began to swirl around her, thin as mist but sharp as glass. Her hands rose, fingers trembling slightly as she focused.
Wind began to coil in her palm, tighter and tighter, forming a miniature vortex. Then... with a murmur under her breath
Wind slash
the wind snapped into shape, a blade of air, honed and jagged.
With a flick of her wrist, the air knife shot forward and slashed across the rope.
In a blink, it was severed into several neat pieces.
Veythor's eyes narrowed, impressed despite his coldness. Raika's jaw dropped.
"That was awesome, Shimi!" he said, nearly bouncing in place. "Seriously, that was amazing!"
Shimi didn't react much. "It's just a basic wind spell... I only learned that one."
She glanced at Veythor, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction.... even just a nod.
He gave her one, eventually.
"Raika's right. It's a big help especially for what we're about to try."
Her face lit up with a pink flush. She played with a lock of her hair, twisting it between her fingers.
"Thank you." Her voice was barely a whisper.
'Little wimp,' Veythor thought coldly. Sentiment meant nothing to him. Praise, thanks, blushing.... none of it mattered. But Raika, beside him, felt a knot of jealousy form in his chest.
Veythor ignored them both and stood.
"Now, back to the point." His voice cut through the moment like a blade. "Here's the full plan. Listen closely.... I won't repeat myself. And I don't have the luxury of a Plan B or C."
Raika and Shimi exchanged glances, then nodded. "Okay."
They leaned in.
Veythor spoke, his voice falling to a whisper. The sound barely reached beyond their small circle.
The more he explained, the more their faces paled.
And when he finally finished, Raika couldn't hold it in anymore.
"I object!" he blurted out, nearly shouting. "This plan is insane! It's way too risky"
Veythor cut him off.
"It's either this or rot here. There is no other way it's do or die."
Shimi spoke up then, her voice soft but steady.
"I get it, Vey… but what if Bulz doesn't act the way you predicted?"
Veythor flinched internally. Vey? A nickname?
He furrowed his brows but let it slide.
"He will." His voice was calm. Icy. "Bulz is clever, but he's greedy. He won't let us out until he sells us. He'll follow the same pattern I predicted unless…"
He trailed off, eyes darkening.
"…unless he comes to get us himself. That's the only variable that could ruin everything."
And just like that, the silence returned.... thick with tension, heavier than before.
The plan was set. The clock had started ticking.Suddenly they heard footsteps someone was coming.
Is it time?that remains a question for now.