Suddenly a jail wide alarm erupted.
The silence of our hunt was shattered by a wailing scream that echoed through the stone corridors. Not a human scream—something mechanical, magical, designed to pierce walls and alert every guard in the prison.
Red light began to pulse from hidden sources, casting the corridors in a hellish glow. The opalescent barriers in nearby cells flickered in response, their regeneration cycles accelerating.
"It seems like they–your comrades, have triggered an alarm. Now guards will rush down."
Cinder's hand tightened on his Aether sword, his body tensing for the fight to come. But my mind was already racing ahead, calculating, planning.
Wait, I can use this…!
The guards will rush downwards. But with the help of Cinder I will kill them one by one.
But the problem is whether they will come down one by one.
In narrow corridors, in a vertical prison, the guards would have to funnel through choke points. Staircases. Doorways. Hallways that forced them into single file. It was perfect.
"This is basically a spawn kill."
"A—What??" Cinder's confusion was genuine. The term meant nothing in this world.
"You don't have to worry about that. We just have to kill the guards."
I closed my eyes, focusing every sense that three years of darkness had sharpened. I focused on my senses. There were many footsteps.
The stone transmitted vibrations like water. I could feel the rhythm of booted feet, the weight of armored bodies, the urgency of their movement.
Three were coming straight to us. Other footsteps were faint. Distant. Probably heading to other sections, other levels. But these three—they were our immediate problem.
"Cinder cut some rock for me."
He didn't question. His Aether blade sliced into the prison wall, carving a chunk of stone roughly the size of my palm.
I hefted it, feeling its weight, its balance. I need to be perfect.
The footsteps grew louder. They were approaching fast down the stairs.
My mental map of this level was complete. I knew every turn, every corner, every shadow. The stairs downstairs opened in the left and right path. On the right path we were stationed.
I positioned myself, the rock ready in my hand. One of the guards was on the right side of the stairs. And the other two were on the middle-left.
So the formation was staggered. The right-side guard would be the first to see us. The left-side guards would have their vision obscured by the angle of the stairs.
Therefore the guard that was on the right side was the one who would spot us quickly. And the middle left ones will look left due to the huge clatter I will make.
I waited for them to just reach 10m and threw the rock straight ahead.
The stone flew from my hand with every ounce of precision I had developed over years of training. It arced through the air, struck the far wall of the left corridor, and shattered.
The noise was a huge amount of clatter.
Exactly as planned. The sound echoed, drew attention, created confusion.
Now they will look at that area where I threw the rock.
The right-side guard hesitated, his head turning toward the noise. The left-side guards did the same, their weapons raised, their eyes searching the empty corridor where the sound had come from.
I positioned Cinder ahead of me.
He understood. He was the blade. I was the mind.
As soon as they entered Cinder cut the one who was in right.
His Aether sword swept through the guard's neck before the man could even register our presence. The body crumpled, blood spraying the walls.
I pointed Cinder to focus on the most leftist one. While I took the middle left one.
The remaining two guards finally saw us, finally understood they were under attack. But understanding and responding are different things.
They tried their best to respond, but our attack was incredibly fast.
Cinder moved toward the leftmost guard, his blade a blur of light and death. I focused on the middle guard—the one who was now isolated, confused, turning to face a threat he couldn't comprehend.
I swiftly stormed towards the wall on my right, jumped, planted my foot on it, and pushed off, slamming my body back into one of the middle-left guards with a WWE-style upper back attack. It was my favorite move.
My body became a projectile. The wall launch gave me momentum, trajectory, devastating force. I hit the guard chest-first, my entire mass concentrated into a single point of impact. The breath exploded from his lungs. His weapon clattered away. We hit the ground together, my weight driving into his ribcage with a sickening crack.
7 seconds. And it was over.
I rolled off the body, already scanning for the next threat. Cinder stood over the leftmost guard, his blade dripping with Aetheric light. The guard I had slammed was still breathing, but broken—ribs shattered, internal bleeding, incapable of resistance.
Cinder killed the one I slammed. A quick thrust, and the suffering ended.
Silence returned, broken only by the distant wail of the alarm and our own breathing.
Cinder stared at me. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. "How in the world were you able to do that? I have never seen that type of movement in my life. Timing, precision, planning, power—"
"House Theodore. Did you really forget who I am?"
"Even though… you're still too young."
"Does it matter now? In this jail? I will tell you later. Focus on the mission. That precision, power, and planning are the only reasons you are following my orders. Isn't that right?"
I held his gaze, letting him see the steel beneath the child's face. He needed to understand that our relationship was not based on age or size, but on capability. I had proven myself. Now he would follow.
"Well, I guess yeah."
Before leaving I grabbed one of the swords of the guards. A real sword, not Aether-forged. Cold steel. Familiar weight. It felt right in my hand.
"Let's go. There are more footsteps. This time the forefront ambush."
"Got it."
We climbed towards the top.
The staircase spiraled upward, each step bringing us closer to the surface, closer to freedom, closer to whatever chaos awaited above. The alarm still wailed, but no guards had come since our ambush. They were regrouping, organizing, preparing.
These were the last steps. Then there was an exit.
I could feel it—the change in air pressure, the faint draft of fresh air, the subtle shift in temperature. The surface was close.
But first, we had to get through the final barrier.
The staircase had a right and a left. Both with guards.
I peered around the corner, using the shadows to mask my Aetherless presence. There were 5 guards. Could be dangerous.
Five trained fighters, probably with Aether abilities, probably alert and waiting. A direct assault would be suicide, even with Cinder's help.
"Bring them closer to the staircase so that I can kill them," I murmured.
Cinder nodded. He understood. He was the bait.
He darted to the left. Containing four guards.
Perfect. Four of them focused on him, their attention drawn by the sudden appearance of an escaped prisoner. Yes, that is better.
I was hiding in the steps. Waiting. Watching.
Since Cinder caught the attention of the guards, the one on the right will sprint to attack him from behind. Perfect.
The guard on the right saw his comrades engaging a threat. He drew his weapon and ran toward the fight, his path taking him directly past my hiding spot.
The moment he came closer to the steps…
I explosively thrusted the sword into his lungs.
The blade entered between his ribs, piercing flesh and organ with surgical precision. He never saw me. Never knew what killed him. His momentum carried him forward a few steps before his body realized it was dead.
I removed the sword. And killed him.
One down. Four to go.
Since Cinder was fighting four of them, I needed to take one or two of them.
I watched the battle. Cinder was holding his own, his Aether sword a blur of defensive strikes and counter-attacks. But he was out of practice, his movements slightly slower than they should be. He couldn't kill all four alone.
He perfectly aligned the kill for me.
As he fought, he maneuvered. Subtle shifts in position, feints and retreats, drawing the guards into a formation that left one of them exposed. Their backs were to me now, their attention fixed on Cinder.
The rear was unguarded.
I shot towards them with my athlete stance.
Three years of explosive training unleashed. I covered the distance in seconds, my sword raised, my target locked.
And killed one of them by pushing the sword in his stomach. Kind of like a betrayal. But it was not.
The blade sank deep. The guard gasped, looked down at the steel protruding from his abdomen, and then looked back at me—a child, a boy, a killer. Confusion was the last expression his face would ever make.
He fell.
The guards noticed the dead man but it was too late.
One of them shouted "REAR ATTACK! REAR ATTACK!"
The formation shattered. One guard turned to face me, his weapon raised, his eyes wild. This meant less pressure on Cinder. He could now easily kill them.
The guard thrust his sword toward my chest. Fast. Precise. Trained.
I crouched instantly and aimed at the lowest part of the sword.
The technique came from the hidden library, from a manual on unarmed combat against armed opponents. To deal with thrusts, the sword must hit at the down side of the opponent's sword, pushing the sword up and immobilising the opponent.
My sword met his at the perfect angle. The impact redirected his thrust upward, threw off his balance, opened his guard. The speed of his thrust, combined with my strike knocking the sword upward, tore the blade from his grip.
His weapon clattered to the stone floor. I deliberately let my sword fall too since it will be very hard to hit him in that crouched position.
Now we were both unarmed. But I was already where I needed to be.
Since I was already crouched, my legs could hit his torso.
I dropped to the ground, my hands planting for stability, and lashed out with both feet. The double kick caught him square in the chest, lifting him off his feet, sending him crashing backward.
He hit the ground, stunned, gasping. I was already moving, rolling, recovering, grabbing my fallen sword.
After that I quickly recovered, grabbing the sword and killing the guard.
One thrust. Clean. Final.
I looked up. Cinder stood over the bodies of the remaining two guards, his Aether sword dissolving into light. He was breathing hard, but unharmed. And he was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
He was absolutely shocked at my precision.
"Absolute Monstrous Precision. The way you use your whole body, even I can't do that."
I laughed—a short, sharp sound that held no humor. "Why are you getting so surprised? This is normal for us."
"Yes, you do belong to the Great House Theodore."
The words tasted like ash. Belonging to House Theodore was not an honor. It was a curse. A branding. A mark of being used.
"Anyways, let's move up. Hmmm, can you clear all the ones at the exit?"
"I'm not sure. I have been out of practice for years. Why are you suggesting that?"
"To check on your comrades. If you move outside, can you absorb aether?"
Understanding dawned in his eyes. "I can do that. But I need no disturbance. You know what I mean?"
"Ah, yes the guards. I will take care of that. Absorb the Aether."
The exit was a few meters away.
We climbed the last steps, emerging into a small chamber with a heavy iron door , the final barrier between us and the outside world. Through gaps in the door frame, I could see pale light. Not sunlight but moonlight. The twin moons of Aetheria, casting their silver and rose glow across the landscape.
The guards that were in the area rushed and were wiped out by guerrilla tactics I learned in the history books of earth.
Every corner became an ambush. Every shadow a hiding place. Every sound a distraction. The guards were trained for open combat, for magical duels, for predictable engagements. They had no answer for a specter who appeared from nowhere, struck, and vanished.
One by one, they fell.
Soon we reached the exit.
The iron door loomed before us. Beyond it, freedom. Beyond it, chaos. Beyond it, a world at war.
Cinder started Absorbing Aether.
He sat against the wall, his eyes closed, his body drawing in the ambient energy of the world. His Aether sword had been formed from his internal reserves; now he replenished, growing stronger with every passing moment.
Freedom was just a few feet away.
I stood guard at the door, my stolen sword in my hand, my senses straining for any sound of approaching guards. None came. The prison was quiet now, the quiet of the dead.
In minutes, we would step through that door. We would find Mirabel and Roran, if they still lived. We would see what the world had become in the three years I had been buried.
And then, we would run.
Not toward my father's war. Not toward the Church's judgment. Not toward anything that would make me a pawn again.
Away. Anywhere. Everywhere.
I looked at Cinder, his face peaceful in absorption, his strength returning.
I had saved him. I had used him. I had made him my weapon.
But somewhere in the darkness of this prison, something had shifted. He was no longer just a tool. He was an ally. A comrade. Perhaps, in time, even a friend.
The door waited.
Freedom waited.
And for the first time in three years, I allowed myself to hope.