The escape began exactly as planned.
Two hours before dawn, when the compound lay wrapped in its deepest quiet, four shadows slipped from the slave dormitory like ghosts made manifest. Aiden's misdirection wrapped around the group, creating a bubble of disinterest that made even alert guards look elsewhere as they passed.
Marcus led the way with the quiet confidence of a man who had navigated hostile territory before. Willem followed close behind, his light-bending ability creating subtle distortions that made their group harder to track visually. Jon brought up the rear, ready to use his telekinesis to silence any alarms or obstacles they might encounter.
The route they'd planned took them through the storage areas and maintenance tunnels that honeycombed the compound's lower levels—spaces too cramped and unglamorous for regular patrols, but large enough for desperate men to move through unseen.
For the first hour, everything went perfectly. They encountered only sleeping guards and automated checkpoints that Aiden's abilities allowed them to bypass without incident. The storage ring he'd taken from Brennan contained lock picks that made short work of secured doors, while his detect ability provided early warning of any awakened individuals who might pose a threat.
Almost too easy, Aiden thought as they navigated a narrow service corridor that led toward the compound's outer wall. Six years of dreaming about escape, and it's actually working.
That was when Overseer Hartwell stumbled into their path.
The man was drunk—seriously drunk, from the smell of alcohol that preceded him and the unsteady weaving of his steps. Probably returning from a late-night drinking session with other off-duty staff, taking a shortcut through the maintenance areas to avoid being seen by his superiors.
Under normal circumstances, Hartwell would have been easy to avoid or distract. But drunk men were unpredictable, their minds too chaotic for abilities like misdirection to influence reliably. And unfortunately, Hartwell's alcohol-fogged gaze fell directly on Willem before any of them could react.
"Wha... what're you slaves doing here?" the overseer slurred, his hand fumbling for the whistle that hung around his neck. "S'posed to be in dormitory... raising alarm..."
Marcus moved first, his weathered hands closing around Hartwell's throat before the man could complete his thought. The old guard's grip was iron-strong from years of wielding tools, and his expression was grimly determined as he applied pressure to the overseer's windpipe.
Hartwell struggled briefly, his feet drumming against the stone floor, then went limp. Marcus held the chokehold for another thirty seconds to ensure death, then lowered the body to the ground with professional efficiency.
"Had to be done," he said quietly, though Aiden could see the cost of the killing in his eyes. "He would have raised the alarm."
Aiden knelt beside the corpse, testing his essence absorption ability. But when he reached for the power that had served him so well with previous victims, nothing happened. No flow of energy, no absorption of abilities, no sense of growing stronger through violence.
Interesting, he thought. I can only absorb essence from people I've killed personally. Other people's victims don't count.
It made sense from a certain perspective—the power seemed tied to direct combat victory rather than simple proximity to death. But it was a limitation worth remembering for future encounters.
They resumed their escape route, moving faster now that they'd been forced to leave evidence of their passage. The outer wall was only minutes away when they heard it—a sound that stopped all four men in their tracks.
Screaming. High, wordless sounds that spoke of agony beyond human endurance, emanating from somewhere ahead of them in the corridor.
"What the hell?" Jon whispered, his face pale in the dim light of their single lantern.
Marcus's expression was grim. "The owner's son. Matthias. He has... appetites. The administrative wing includes private chambers where he indulges them."
Willem shuddered. "We should go around. Find another route to the wall."
But Aiden was already moving forward, drawn by something darker than curiosity. The screaming reminded him of Sarah's voice during her final moments, of the sounds Gareth had made when Drayton was breaking his core. It spoke of innocence being destroyed for the entertainment of someone with power over the powerless.
Another debt to be paid, he thought, and the cold rage that had sustained him through six years of slavery flared to life in his chest.
"Aiden, wait!" Marcus hissed, but it was too late.
Aiden was already at the door, his misdirection ensuring that the guards stationed outside never quite noticed him picking the lock with stolen tools. The mechanism clicked open, and he slipped inside like smoke made solid.
The chamber beyond was a nightmare given physical form.
Expensive furniture had been pushed against the walls to create an open space in the center, where a young girl—maybe fourteen, with the hollow eyes of someone who had given up all hope—hung suspended from chains attached to the ceiling. Her body was a map of recent cruelties, marked with burns and cuts that spoke of systematic torture designed to maximize suffering.
Standing before her was Matthias—a thin, pale young man with the soft features of someone who had never known hardship. His clothes were expensive silk, his hands manicured, his face alight with the kind of joy that came from having absolute power over another human being.
He was heating an iron rod in a small brazier, preparing for the next phase of his entertainment.
"Please," the girl whispered, though her voice was barely audible. "Please, I'll do anything. I'll be quiet. I'll be good. Just please—"
"Begging is boring," Matthias replied conversationally, testing the heat of the iron against his palm. "I prefer screaming. Much more expressive."
The heated metal moved toward the girl's skin, and Aiden's control finally snapped.
He crossed the room in three silent strides, his misdirection making him effectively invisible until the moment his stolen dagger found the soft spot at the base of Matthias's skull. Exploit Weakness guided the blade with surgical precision, severing the spinal cord and dropping the torturer like a puppet with cut strings.
Matthias collapsed without even a chance to scream, his expensive robes spreading around him like spilled wine. The heated iron rod clattered across the floor, forgotten in the sudden silence that followed his death.
The girl stared at Aiden with eyes that couldn't quite process what had just happened. Freedom was such an alien concept that her mind struggled to accept its reality.
"It's over," Aiden said quietly, beginning to work on the chains that held her suspended. "He can't hurt you anymore."
But even as he spoke, he was already beginning the essence absorption process. Energy flowed out of him in the familiar torrent, draining his reserves while something new flowed back from Matthias's cooling corpse.
[ESSENCE ABSORPTION COMPLETE]
[INCOMPLETE PATH DETECTED: Frozen Blades]
[PATH CONSOLIDATION INITIATED]
[NEW PATH UNLOCKED: Path of Frost and Steel]
[ABILITIES GAINED: Icicle Spear (Uncommon), Armaments of Frost (Rare)]
New knowledge flooded his mind—understanding of ice magic and enchanted weaponry that had belonged to Matthias's incomplete awakening. The torturer had been awakened but untrained, his abilities partially developed through cruel experimentation rather than proper instruction.
Now those abilities were Aiden's, merged with his existing path to create something new and deadly.
Icicle Spear, he realized as the spell's parameters settled into his consciousness. Conjures projectiles of supernaturally sharp ice. And Armaments of Frost—temporarily enchants weapons with freezing energy.
He tested the first ability immediately, extending his hand toward the wall and channeling power through the new neural pathways the absorption had created. A spear of crystalline ice materialized in the air and shot forward, embedding itself in stone with enough force to crack the masonry.
Useful, he thought, then turned his attention to freeing the girl.
The chains yielded to his lock picks, and she collapsed into his arms with the boneless exhaustion of someone who had endured too much for too long. But she was alive, and she would heal, and Matthias would never hurt anyone again.
"Can you walk?" Aiden asked.
She nodded mutely, though her legs shook as she tried to stand.
"Good. My friends are waiting outside. They'll help you get away from this place."
While she struggled into some of Matthias's spare clothes—far too large but better than her current state—Aiden searched the chamber for anything useful. The torturer's possessions reflected his privileged status: a storage ring filled with gold coins and expensive trinkets, two bottles of what his new knowledge identified as mana potions, and several pieces of jewelry that could be converted to currency.
But the real prize was a leather-bound journal that detailed Matthias's experiments with awakened abilities. Not just his own pathetic attempts at ice magic, but observations about other awakened individuals in the compound. Names, abilities, weaknesses—intelligence that could prove invaluable for future operations.
The reunion with Marcus, Willem, and Jon was brief and tense. The older slaves took charge of the rescued girl without question, but their expressions made it clear they understood what Aiden's solo action meant for their escape timeline.
"We need to move," Willem said urgently. "That body will be discovered soon, and when it is—"
Shouts echoed from the direction they'd come. Not panic yet, but the organized sounds of guards responding to an alert. Someone had found either Hartwell's body or discovered their absence from the dormitory.
Time's up, Aiden thought.
They ran.
The final stretch to the outer wall became a running battle as guard patrols converged on their position. Aiden's group fought with the desperate efficiency of people who knew capture meant worse than death, while their pursuers pressed forward with the professional determination of men who would face severe punishment if they allowed valuable property to escape.
Jon's telekinesis hurled chunks of stone with bone-crushing force. Willem's light-bending created false images that sent guards striking at empty air. Marcus fought with the brutal efficiency of a man who remembered what it felt like to be a warrior rather than a victim.
And Aiden discovered the lethal potential of his new abilities.
Icicle Spear proved devastatingly effective in close quarters, conjuring projectiles that could punch through mail armor and embed themselves in flesh with surgical precision. His Armaments of Frost enchantment turned his simple dagger into something far deadlier, each cut leaving wounds that burned with supernatural cold.
But it was the combination of his abilities that made him truly dangerous. Misdirection would make an enemy look away just long enough for an icicle to find its mark. Exploit Weakness would guide his frost-enchanted blade to vital organs with unerring accuracy.
When the fighting ended, eight guards lay dead in the corridor, their blood already beginning to freeze around supernatural wounds.
Aiden moved among the corpses, selectively using his essence absorption on those who looked like they might have useful abilities. The process was exhausting—each absorption drained significant energy—but the rewards were worth the cost.
[ABILITIES GAINED: Basic Sword Work (Common), Iron Skin Defense (Common)]
[SKILL STACKING DETECTED]
[Basic Sword Work: Novice → Apprentice]
[Iron Skin Defense: Novice → Apprentice]
His sword technique became more refined, his defensive instincts sharper. Not dramatic improvements, but enough to make him measurably more dangerous in future confrontations.
They reached the outer wall just as dawn began to lighten the eastern sky. The escape route worked exactly as planned—over the wall using ropes and grappling hooks, then a desperate sprint across open ground toward the tree line where freedom waited.
At the forest's edge, where safety beckoned just yards away, the four escapees paused for what they all knew would be their final farewell.
"Come with us," Marcus said one last time, his weathered face creased with genuine concern. "There's a whole world out there beyond this nightmare. You could have a real life, maybe even find some measure of peace."
Aiden looked back toward the compound, where torches were beginning to appear on the walls as the search for escaped slaves intensified. Somewhere in those grey stone buildings, men who had profited from six years of his suffering were waking up to discover that their property had developed the audacity to fight back.
"My business here isn't finished," he said simply.
Willem shook his head sadly but didn't argue further. Jon clasped Aiden's shoulder in silent farewell. Marcus simply nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes.
"Be careful, son. And remember—don't let the monster you're becoming be worse than the monsters you're fighting."
Then they were gone, disappearing into the forest with their rescued companion, heading toward whatever future awaited beyond the Consortium's reach.
Aiden watched until the last trace of their passage faded from sight, then turned back toward the compound. His misdirection wrapped around him like a familiar cloak, and his new abilities hummed with potential in the back of his mind.
Time to collect what's owed, he thought, and began the careful approach back toward the place where his transformation from victim to predator would be completed.
The real work was just beginning.