The sound of my heavy breathing and the gentle flow of blood were the only sounds as I came to terms with what had just happened. Sebastian's body lay crumpled on the floor, a brutal mess from my unleashed rage. Amerigo's body still hung limply, swaying slightly from the chill breeze drifting through the partially open cell door.

Noticing the door left ajar snapped me from my stunned daze. Nobody had come down to check on us yet, and given Sebastian's reputation, I doubted anyone would be eager to disturb him even if they heard suspicious noises. Still, the longer I lingered, the greater my risk. If anyone were brave enough to investigate the unusual sounds from our cell, I would lose any advantage I had gained.

I considered taking Sebastian's clothes as I assessed the scene but ultimately dismissed the idea. His garments were soaked in blood and gore, and even if I could stomach wearing them, they would be too small for my frame, even after my malnutrition from captivity.

My first thought was to use my mana to try and regrow the lost limb but I wasn't sure if that would actually work and any failed attempts would lead to losing mana I couldn't afford to spare. Just morphing a single finger had drained me significantly, even if it was possible for me to regrow a hand, it would no doubt be more taxing than that. Desperation drove me to do something I had only ever heard described and never actually seen in action. From what I had been told, you could reattach a dismembered limb if you got to it soon enough and sewed it back on. I didn't have a sewing kit but I did have magic. Looking across the cell, I spied my left hand. It had fallen on the floor underneath the chains and now sat in a bloody pool on the ground.

It was warm to the touch which gave me hope as I picked it up and stuck the top part to my wrist. It was painful and felt odd because I was pressing something into my open wound but the uncomfortable sensation was barely a tickle compared to what Sebastian had put me through.

"Come on, come on," I muttered as I channelled my mana into the body part.

My mind was fully focused on the task. My thoughts telling my magic that the hand was a part of my body, it was me, and the only thing that needed healing was the join between the two. I didn't know if it mattered but I was doing all I could to direct the magic down the path I wanted. If this failed I would have to try and escape with only one hand and that was a possibility I would not entertain.

What I did worked though. As I focused, I felt the mana draining from my gates and going to work, and with a silent breath of success, it visibly began sealing up. My magic moving my wrist slightly to get a better angle. It was actually a little freaky to witness but I wasn't going to let that stop me.

After a couple of moments, and maybe another five percent of my mana, my hand was reattached to my body. It felt like a miracle! And one that wasn't too costly on my reserves. But there was no time to celebrate. I didn't have much time and needed to turn to my next task quickly; looting Sebastian.

I turned my attention to Sebastian's weapons. Kneeling beside his corpse, I snagged a ring of keys before I unbelted the sword strapped to his waist. It was a sturdy, well-crafted blade that felt good in my hands. Yet it was the dagger sheathed at his side that truly captured my attention. With its curved blade and elegantly shaped black handle, the weapon felt tailor-made for my grip. Even with my deformed finger, the hilt settled perfectly in my palm.

Testing its balance with a few quick swings and stabs filled me with renewed confidence. I secured the sword and keys to my waist and carefully attached the dagger's sheath to the belt beside it. Satisfied with my newfound arsenal, I kept the dagger firmly in hand, its comforting weight reassuring me as I prepared to make my escape. There was no use staying to say goodbye, so with one final look to Amerigo, I headed to the door and what lay beyond only to stumble after a couple of steps.

It felt strange to walk. I hadn't moved freely for an entire year, and my legs felt like they belonged to someone else. I was weak and shaky—almost disconnected. I hadn't noticed it during the intensity of my escape from the chains, but now, standing there in the quiet aftermath, it became painfully obvious how vulnerable I was. I took a moment to steady myself, testing out my movements with a few cautious steps, each one feeling awkward and foreign. I was glad nobody was around to witness me stumbling about, covered in blood and practicing walking like a toddler. Eventually, my legs started cooperating enough that I felt I could move with some degree of confidence.

Opening the door as silently as I could, I poked my head out and scanned the hallway carefully. Torches flickered dimly further down the corridor, illuminating stone walls lined with heavy doors identical to my own. Shadows danced in the dim light, but the area closest to me was comfortably dark, providing me some sense of protection.

A plan had begun forming in my mind but it was one that would require help. In my current state, weakened by months of torture, I doubted I could fight my way past any patrols. During my first weeks in Achrane, I'd seen a heavy guard presence around what I'd assumed was the wing for prisoners with magic. If I was right—and if that was indeed where I'd been held—I knew I wouldn't be able to escape on my own. I would need to find someone else to aid me in slipping past whatever guards stood in our way. At the very least I needed someone else to divert attention away from me.

That first step out of my cell after what felt like a lifetime lifted a psychological weight from me. My relief felt palpable. I was still deep inside a prison but being outside that cell filled me with newfound confidence. For the first time since I'd been chained up, I felt more like the Brandon I used to be.

Keeping myself crouched, I moved slowly and silently toward the nearest cell door, eyes constantly scanning both ends of the corridor for movement. The place was quiet, almost oppressively so, and I reached the first door unnoticed. Standing carefully, I peered through the small barred window into the cell beyond.

Empty.

It was identical to my own cell. Another cramped, grim, and miserable room lined with chains that hung ominously from the ceiling. But judging from the thick layers of dust and cobwebs, it hadn't been used in years. Which wasn't surprising, really. Amerigo and I would surely have heard something over the course of our captivity if there had actually been prisoners nearby. I looked around but as far as I could tell, there was nothing that would keep sound out.

On I went, moving from cell to cell, checking each one methodically for signs of habitation, but as expected, every single one was empty and long-abandoned. Clearly, Amerigo and I had been isolated for a reason. Though whether it was for security or Sebastian's own twisted desire to keep us from human contact, I didn't know.

As I approached the end of the corridor, the soft sounds of habitation drifted toward me. A slight cough, the scrape of metal on wood, quiet murmurs. My heartbeat quickened, and I paused to steady my breathing before daring to glance around the corner. My situation was perilous. I was a prisoner attempting escape after having killed a senior member of a powerful noble house. I was battered, barely healed, and armed only with weapons either ill-suited or unfamiliar. If someone spotted me, I'd be forced into another fight to the death. There would be no mercy, no surrender—not after killing Sebastian—and yet, despite the danger and everything I'd been through, I felt a surge of exhilaration.

For a moment, I felt like my old self again. A simple thief, creeping silently through the shadows, breaking into places not only for survival but for the thrill of it. Before the train job, before prison, before magic entered my life, this had been my world. Simpler times. Dangerous but exciting. The past two years had changed me drastically, but in that instant, my old self resurfaced, filling me with a confidence and hope that I hadn't felt in what seemed like forever. It made me feel like I could actually pull it off.

Buoyed by this newfound determination, I leaned forward slowly, carefully peeking around the corner.

Luck was on my side. Only one guard sat at a small table, his back facing me. He idly shuffled gold coins across the worn wooden surface, clearly bored. A deck of cards lay in front of him, mid-game. Two drinking cups rested beside him, signaling another guard's presence somewhere nearby. Instantly, my instincts kicked in. I had only a brief window to act before the second guard returned.

I quickly assessed the situation, years of experience picking pockets from distracted marks kicking in. Although the seated guard wasn't directly facing me, attempting to sneak past him was too risky. Any movement could draw his eye. Killing one guard was daunting enough, but handling two at once would be nearly impossible. My decision was made in a heartbeat, desperation and determination propelling me forward.

Silently, I moved on the balls of my feet toward the guard. Halfway there, I realized with a jolt that several of the cells had direct sightlines to me, but it was too late to reconsider. Committed to action, I continued onward, closing the gap in seconds. The guard's head was unhelmeted and bowed slightly, his attention still lazily focused on the scattered coins. He only reacted as my hand clamped down tightly over his mouth, his eyes widening in sudden, panicked realization. But by then, my dagger was already drawing swiftly across his throat.

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He struggled violently against me, his strength easily surpassing my own weakened state. But desperation lent me the will to fight harder, and I wrapped my arms around his chest, squeezing tight to restrict his movements. In his panic, he pushed forcefully backward, tipping both of us off the chair.

We crashed to the ground with a deafening bang, wood splintering around us, echoing loudly as metal scraped harshly against stone. For an instant, surprise froze him in place, his mouth opening silently. Then, as his head fell back, blood gushed from a deep, jagged wound in his throat, spraying the wall and door with crimson. He clawed frantically at my arms, trying to break free, but it was too late. The blade was razor-sharp, the cut I'd delivered was too deep.

His struggles gradually weakened until he slumped heavily against me, his life draining out in violent pulses that soon slowed, then ceased altogether. My heart pounded like thunder as his warm blood pooled around me. It was the second life I had ever taken, yet I felt no guilt. The thought flickered briefly through my mind, but I brushed it away without letting it settle. I was racing against time, and any guilt would have to wait until after I'd successfully escaped.

With his full weight pressing against my legs, I struggled for a moment before rolling his heavy corpse aside. Only then did I get a clear look at the face that stared blankly toward the ceiling. Recognition surged through me. It was Mundo, Tomas' father. The man who had allowed the guards to beat me mercilessly on my very first day in prison. Any lingering guilt evaporated instantly, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction. Revenge, it turned out, felt exceptionally good.

A frantic voice called out from behind the cell bars. "Oi! Hey, lad!" the prisoner hissed urgently, pressing his gaunt face through the bars. "Psst! Over here!"

I glanced over my shoulder at him, already working on unbuckling Mundo's breastplate.

"Help us out! Let us free… We can help you! Some of us even got magic! Let us out, and we'll fight alongside ya!" The prisoner's eyes were wide and desperate, nodding vigorously in encouragement.

I studied him carefully. He appeared emaciated and ragged, with sunken eyes betraying weeks, maybe months, of torment. I didn't sense a trap or deceit, and my original plan had involved freeing them anyway, so I grabbed the set of keys hanging from Mundo's belt and tossed them toward the cell.

My throw was weak—my strength still recovering from captivity—and the keys clattered to the ground, landing just short of his outstretched fingers. Fortunately, it was close enough that the prisoner stretched and strained, just managing to grasp the ring and pull it close enough to unlock his cell.

With one eye fixed carefully on the prisoner, I finished stripping Mundo's body, pulling free his sturdy breastplate. He was smaller in stature but stocky, and though the fit was snug, it still covered my chest well enough without limiting my movements significantly.

The sound of a door opening had me flinching, but it was just the prisoner finally getting free.

"Me next, Advan," another prisoner called urgently. "I can help fight. It won't be long until they're back with the healer."

The first prisoner—Advan, I assumed—seemed to agree, quickly rushing over to unlock the second man's cell. They exchanged a firm nod, and I returned my focus to equipping Mundo's armor, wondering bitterly why they'd been granted the relative luxury of mere cells instead of being chained up like Amerigo and myself.

I'd barely managed to remove the leg plates when someone approached me cautiously. My hand immediately slipped to the dagger at my side as I glanced upward warily. It was the prisoner Advan had freed first. Behind him, I could see even more prisoners now gathering, freshly freed and looking anxious but determined.

"Hey," he began hesitantly, eyes briefly flickering over my body and noting the scars. He seemed uncertain, even wary, yet there was no hostility. "You're one of the special prisoners, aren't you? One of Sebastian's?"

My muscles tightened instinctively, and he must have noticed because he immediately stepped back, hands raised defensively.

"I'm not looking for trouble," he assured hurriedly, a tremor in his voice. "I was just wondering if we could have any of your spare weapons? After all the screaming, the other guard ran off to get the healer. It's late, so we've got some time before they return, but when they do… we'll need weapons to fight back. We have magic!" He brightened slightly at the mention of it. "But most people here have non-offensive abilities, so weapons would really help… if you're willing to share?"

His voice held genuine hopefulness, and behind him, desperate eyes echoed the sentiment, making me feel slightly guilty for my initial hostility. With a quiet sigh, I gave a cautious nod, pushing Mundo's sword across the stone floor toward him.

"Thank you," he said, relief flooding his face as he picked it up reverently. "I'm Ashley."

I watched him carefully as I returned to the armor, fumbling awkwardly with the clasps on the leg plates. To my growing frustration, the mechanism was complex and refused to cooperate with my inexperienced hands.

Noticing my struggle, Ashley handed off the sword to another freed prisoner behind him, who took it eagerly.

"Do you… need help?" Ashley asked gently, carefully approaching again, making sure his movements were slow and unthreatening.

My first instinct was to refuse, to maintain my control and independence. But the sincerity in Ashley's offer came through, and he'd willingly disarmed himself to help. With a reluctant sigh, I nodded, shifting my position to allow him to assist, though my dagger remained firmly gripped in my hand just in case.

Thankfully, I didn't need to rely on my new power. Ashley swiftly attached the leg plates to my legs with practiced efficiency, adjusting the breastplate and finally handing me the helmet once he finished. The gloves felt awkward at first due to their weight and limited flexibility, but I couldn't go without them or risk drawing suspicion. My goal was both protection and the ability to blend in at a glance.

"It's a shame we don't have time to get you into proper undergarments, but you'll pass a quick inspection," Ashley noted with satisfaction, admiring his work. "Not to be presumptuous, but you are escaping with us, yes?"

I slipped the helmet onto my head, instantly getting why Mundo had left it off. It was padded, yeah, but it still pressed uncomfortably against my skull. No wonder the guards were so angry all the time. Without bothering to reply, I strode confidently past Ashley toward the exit.

"I'll take that as a yes," Ashley muttered as he quickened his pace to catch up. "There's another row of cells around the corner. There shouldn't be any guards stationed there, but we've made enough noise they might have come to investigate. Give me some time to recover mana and I can create another fireball. Can you help the others up front?"

The situation was flowing rapidly, and I wasn't really taking the time to properly plan—nor did I think I actually had it—so I went with what he said. The suggestion seemed sound enough when he said it. Including me, there were now eleven prisoners. Their weaponry consisted of Mundo's sword, and assorted wooden pieces and loose stones from the cell. We were far from a formidable force, but I hoped surprise and desperation would tip things in our favor.

Knowing I'd have a moment before any guard realized I wasn't one of their own, I marched confidently around the corner. Prisoners pressed their faces against cell bars as I passed, glaring at me with undisguised hatred, assuming I was a guard. But the corridor was otherwise empty rendering my deception unnecessary. It made me slightly disappointed but that feeling perked me up. Again I was reminded of the person I used to be, and the fun I used to have on jobs.

The prisoners' eyes widened when they noticed those behind me, but no one uttered a sound. Glancing back, I saw Ashley following close behind, holding a finger to his lips to signal silence.

"There'll be two guards around the next corner," he whispered quietly. "Do you think you can handle them?"

I shook my head. Two was pushing it. While I might take one down swiftly, the second would have ample time to raise an alarm or strike back. Even with Mundo's armor, I wasn't confident enough to gamble everything on my ability to swiftly eliminate two trained guards.

Ashley's expression shifted to disappointment, but not surprise. He quickly adapted his plan.

"If you can deal with one quickly, we can pile onto the other. Does that work?"

I considered briefly before nodding. It was risky, but manageable. One guard I could handle with certainty, and the group could overwhelm the other.

Seeing my agreement, Ashley hurried back to the prisoners, whispering instructions. Three men stepped forward. One held Mundo's sword, while the other two looked capable enough from their large, calloused fists. Silently, the trio followed me as we approached the next corner.

I glanced back to confirm they were ready, then rounded the corner with all the confidence of a guard on patrol.

Just as Ashley predicted, two guards stood on either side of a heavy iron-barred gate.

"Mundo?" The guard on the left called out, frowning in confusion as I approached, clearly confused at my appearance. Moving faster, despite the heavy armor, I saw the moment realization struck him. As his mouth opened to call out, I lunged forward, slamming my armored bulk into him with crushing force. His body hit the wall hard, and without hesitation, I thrust my dagger deep through his exposed faceplate and into his skull, killing him instantly.

The swift brutality surprised even me, and momentarily stunned the second guard, who stared at his fallen companion in disbelief, and then up at me. Recovering quicker, I delivered an awkward but effective punch to the side of his head. His helmet clanged sharply against the stone wall, disorienting him long enough for the prisoner holding Mundo's sword to drive the glowing, mana-charged blade through his chest, ending his life before he could shout a warning.

"That went better than expected," he said to me as the two big guys dragged the corpses away. "This prison break might have some legs afterall."

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