The Captain gripped the cold iron bars, his eyes locked onto Uzair.
"Uzair," he said again, firmer this time.
"What is it? Whatever it is… face it. And tell me."
Uzair's shoulders trembled.
He tried to speak—but the words refused to come.
Slowly, painfully, he forced himself to lift his head.
"Captain…" his voice cracked.
"I'm sorry."
The words barely escaped his lips before his composure shattered.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he repeated, his fists clenching as tears finally broke free,streaming down his face.
"I'm weak… I couldn't—"
The Captain stepped closer to the bars.
"Uzair," he said calmly, steadying him with his voice.
"Stand firm. I know the damage to the capital was severe. We've lost much… but we can recover. We always do."
Uzair shook his head violently, tears falling faster.
"That's not… that's not the problem…"
His breathing became uneven.
Then, through sobs he could no longer suppress, he forced the words out.
"Rolsten… died."
The world stopped.
The torchlight flickered—but to the Captain, it was as if the light itself had vanished.
Sound drained away.
The stench of the prison faded.
The iron bars beneath his hands felt distant—unreal.
"…What?" the Captain whispered, though the word carried no sound.
Uzair swallowed hard, his voice breaking completely.
"He… died on the battlefield."
The Captain's fingers tightened around the bars—but his body did not move.
Uzair continued, each word tearing out of him.
"He died… protecting me."
"And… Roxy's parents."
Silence filled the cell.
Not the quiet of peace—but the hollow silence left behind when something irreplaceable is taken away.
The Captain stood perfectly still.
His face showed no anger.
No tears.
No reaction at all.
Only a rigid stillness—like a man forcing himself not to collapse.
Inside him, something shattered.
Uzair wiped his face with the back of his hand, his voice trembling.
"He fought Yoki… alone," Uzair said.
"So that we could run. So that we could reach safety."
His head lowered again.
"I'm sorry. I'm ashamed to call myself a captain."
"Uzair."
The Captain cut him off.
His voice was firm. Unyielding.
"This is not your fault."
Uzair looked up.
"It was Rolsten's choice."
The Captain slowly straightened, chains scraping softly as he did.
The filth, the darkness, the iron bars—none of it touched his eyes.
"He knew what he was doing."
His voice didn't rise. It didn't shake.
It carried the quiet strength of someone who had already accepted the pain.
"He stepped forward so you could live."
The Captain lifted his head, gaze steady, unbroken.
"That wasn't weakness. That was resolve."
A brief silence followed.
"So we don't mourn it with regret," he continued.
"We honor it by standing firm."
His expression hardened—not with anger, but with purpose.
"Rolsten fought because he believed in us."
"Don't let that belief die here."
Uzair's lips trembled, but he nodded.
Then, after a pause, he spoke again—more urgently.
"Captain… you need to escape this prison."
The Captain frowned slightly.
"Why?"
Uzair clenched his fists.
The kingdom… it's not the same anymore," Uzair said quietly.
He hesitated, then forced the words out.
"It's in the hands of the wrong king. A ruler in name only—nothing more than a puppet."
His fists tightened.
"Pulled by the worst people hiding within our own walls."
Uzair swallowed, breath uneven, and spoke faster, as if stopping would break him.
"They've already decided."
A pause.
"…They're going to execute you."
The Captain's eyes sharpened.
"…Me?"
"And Roxy," Uzair added.
The name hit harder than any blade.
"Roxy?" the Captain repeated.
Uzair nodded.
"Yes. After they arrested you… they arrested her too. They intend to kill you both."
"That's impossible," the Captain said quietly.
"I know the Captains. They would oppose this."
Uzair hesitated.
"You're right," he said.
"They would have."
The Captain's gaze lifted slowly.
"…But?"
Uzair's voice dropped.
"If they were still alive."
Silence pressed down between them.
"What are you trying to say?" the Captain asked.
Uzair forced the words out—fast, rough, as if dragging them through broken glass.
"In this battle… all the Captains are dead."
"All of them—except me… Titus… and Hinata."
The Captain did not move.
Uzair didn't stop. He couldn't.
"The kingdom is completely exposed now. Controlled from the inside."
"Hinata believes the attack wasn't just on the capital… it was meant to eliminate everyone who could threaten the White Leader's plans."
Uzair looked away.
"And now…"
"…the kingdom itself is under the White Leader's control."
The Captain exhaled slowly.
"So," he said, voice hollow,
"they really won."
He said nothing more.
Uzair watched him carefully—the stillness, the way his shoulders barely rose with each breath.
The weight of too much loss settling all at once.
Uzair spoke again, softer this time, wiping the last of his tears away.
"Captain… we will get you out."
"And Roxy too. We'll escape this place."
The Captain lifted his eyes.
"What about Wilson?"
Uzair shook his head.
"There's no information. None at all."
"We're searching—but… we don't know where he is."
The Captain's jaw tightened.
"So they got to him as well…"
"We don't know for sure," Uzair said quickly.
"But one thing is certain—they want complete control of the kingdom."
The Captain closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Then he opened them.
"Alright," he said.
"We leave this place."
His gaze hardened.
"Because I don't believe justice exists here anymore."
Uzair took a slow step back from the bars.
"I'll return in a few hours," he said quietly.
"We'll make preparations."
The Captain nodded once.
"Alright," he replied.
"And Uzair… be careful."
Uzair paused for a moment, as if wanting to say more—but the words wouldn't come.
He lowered his head in silent respect, then turned and walked away.
His footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing fainter with each step, until they were swallowed completely by the darkness of the prison.
The Captain remained standing by the bars, watching the empty passage.
Alone again.
And for the first time since everything began…
the silence felt heavier than the chains on his wrists.
Back in the castle, Hinata stood before the king.
The king's room was simple, yet heavy with authority.
Stone pillars and muted crimson banners framed the room, their presence quiet but imposing.
The dark wooden throne stood at the far end, worn by years of rule.Scrolls lay scattered on a nearby table, the air faint with incense and old parchment.
The king stood in his room, facing Hinata.
He wore layers of expensive silk and velvet, polished and heavy, meant to display authority—but they only made his thin frame look smaller.
His long gray hair rested loosely on his shoulders, and his gray eyes avoided Hinata's gaze more than once.
There was no strength in them, only caution… and fear.
Hinata stood straight, his expression calm but unwavering.
"I want you to reconsider the execution of the Captain… and Roxy," Hinata said.
The king's fingers tightened on the arm of his throne.
A flicker of unease crossed his face—brief, but real.
"No," the king replied.
"That decision will not be changed."
Hinata's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
The king's voice hardened.
"Because it is my decision. And are you planning to oppose your king?"
Silence filled the chamber.
Hinata turned away without another word and began walking toward the door.
Each step was slow.
Deliberate.
Just as his hand reached the door, he stopped.
Hinata looked back.
His gaze locked onto the king's eyes—sharp, cold, unyielding.
"For now… I won't oppose you," Hinata said quietly.
Then his voice dropped lower, heavier—carrying a threat that didn't need to be shouted.
"But remember this."
"If you don't change your decision… I will stand with the Captain."
The torches flickered.
"And if you still choose this path," Hinata continued, his presence pressing against the room like a rising storm,
"then I will stand with him—even if I have to fight against the entire kingdom."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
Hinata turned and walked out.
Behind him, the king remained frozen in front of his throne—realizing, perhaps for the first time, that the power standing before him was not something a crown could command.
A few hours passed.
The Captain sat in silence when he suddenly heard footsteps again—slow, careful, unnatural.
Before he could turn, a violent crack echoed behind him.
The damp stone wall at the back of the cell shuddered, then collapsed inward, bricks breaking apart as dust filled the air.
The Captain spun around, eyes sharp.
Through the settling debris, a familiar figure emerged.
"Captain—hurry."
It was Johan.
His face was smeared with dust and ash, his armor scratched and dulled, breath heavy as if he'd been digging for hours.
The Captain didn't hesitate.
He stepped toward the opening.
"You mined all of this?" he asked as he slipped into the narrow tunnel.
Johan shook his head quickly while urging him forward.
"No. This tunnel was dug by a prisoner years ago," he said.
"It was partially blocked. We just reopened it."
The Captain frowned as they moved deeper into the darkness.
"How did you even find out about this place?"
Johan's jaw tightened.
"We got help… from someone."
He glanced back, eyes serious.
"But there's no time for explanations now. We don't have much time."
The tunnel narrowed ahead—dark, cramped, and leading straight into uncertainty.