Chapter 29 – When the Masks Fall
The first blade came fast.
Dagon dodged. Mere millimeters. Just enough.
Six guards descended the dungeon stairs in tight formation—lances forward, shields raised, moving like a trained unit. Their leader barked orders, his voice echoing through the damp stone walls.
— Surround the intruders! Don’t let anyone escape!
Dagon remained still. Watching. Calculating.
Jelím floated beside him, hands already slightly raised. Her mask hid any expression, but her body was relaxed. Almost… bored.
— Jelím — Dagon said calmly. — Do you mind?
She tilted her head.
— Not particularly.
She raised her right hand. That was all. A delicate, almost casual gesture.
The first guard froze mid-step. His lance trembled violently in his hands. Then it reversed—the tip twisting on its own, pointing at the guard beside him.
— What— — he began.
The lance struck.
It pierced straight through his companion’s shield, driving the guard backward with a force that didn’t come from human muscles.
— TRAITOR! — the third guard shouted.
He turned, attacking the first. Chaos exploded. Metal clashed against metal.
Jelím lifted her other hand. Two fingers traced a pattern in the air.
The torches on the walls extinguished simultaneously. Then reignited. Then went dark again.
Light. Darkness. Light. Darkness.
On the third flicker, the guards saw allies as enemies. They attacked one another, screaming accusations, completely lost.
One guard swung his sword wildly—striking his own comrade in the shoulder. Blood sprayed.
— You attacked me! — the wounded man roared, striking back.
Jelím descended softly to the floor. She walked through the chaos as if strolling through a peaceful garden. One guard charged straight at her—she sidestepped by mere centimeters, unhurried, and his lance continued forward, embedding itself into the stone wall.
Keara stared, wide-eyed.
— You… you’re not even trying.
— I don’t need to — Jelím replied simply. — Mental manipulation is about suggestion. I don’t need full control. Just… tilt their perception. They do the rest themselves.
Thirty seconds later, all six guards lay on the ground—unconscious or too injured to continue. No deaths. Jelím’s control was far too precise for that.
Dagon nodded approvingly.
— Efficient, as always.
He looked at Any’s parents—pale, trembling, clearly shaken by what they had witnessed.
— Let’s go — he said firmly. — Before more arrive.
They ran.
---
The Escape
The palace corridors turned into a maze of stone and panic. Bells rang endlessly. Voices shouted everywhere. The alarm had awakened everyone.
Dagon led the way, checking every corner before turning. Keara supported Any’s father—the man limped, his ankle twisted during his imprisonment. Her mother followed behind, breathing unevenly.
They passed a window. Dagon stopped, peering out.
The outer courtyard was boiling with activity. Twenty guards. Thirty. Maybe forty. Organizing, forming search lines.
— Main exit is blocked — he murmured.
— Side exits too — Jelím added, having checked the opposite direction.
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Keara looked up.
— Rooftop?
— Too risky with them — Dagon gestured at the exhausted parents. — But it might be our only option.
That was when they heard it.
Footsteps. Many of them. Coming fast.
Dagon turned. Fifteen guards rounded the corner, heading straight toward them.
No time to hide. No way around.
The guard captain pointed.
— THERE! THE INTRUDERS!
Dagon sighed.
— Fine. Enough subtlety.
He drew his sword.
And the HUD exploded in light.
Not for him—for the nearby players. Keara and Jelím saw it clearly.
╔═══════════════════════════════╗
║ USER: Dagon Ashford ║
║ CLASS: Veteran Swordsman ║
║ LEVEL: MAX ║
║ HP: MAX ║
║ STAMINA: MAX ║
║ STRENGTH: MAX ║
║ AGILITY: MAX ║
║ DEFENSE: MAX ║
╚═══════════════════════════════╝
Keara felt her blood turn cold.
Max. Everything. Every stat.
He reached the absolute limit of the system.
Dagon advanced.
He didn’t run. He walked. Fast, but controlled.
The sword cut.
The first guard never saw it. The blade sliced through his lance, snapping metal like a twig, then continued—striking the helmet with the flat of the blade. A precise impact. Instant knockout.
Dagon spun. Elbow to the second guard. The sound of a jaw dislocating. A kick to the third—ribs cracking, but no organs punctured.
Every movement was exact. No waste. No excess.
Twelve seconds. Fifteen guards on the ground.
No deaths. All severely injured.
Dagon calmly wiped his blade.
— Let’s go.
Keara and Jelím followed in silence.
---
The Hideout
They reached the underground tunnels through a secret entrance—a door disguised in the wall of an abandoned cellar. Dagon knew every passage, every turn.
The Vel’Tharion tunnels stretched beneath Thornvale like ancient veins. Dim light came from crystals embedded in the walls, pulsing softly and casting dancing shadows.
They finally reached a small chamber. Supplies stacked in one corner. Makeshift beds. Clean water in barrels.
Any’s mother collapsed onto a bed, crying silently in relief. Her father sat heavily, clutching his ankle.
Keara immediately knelt beside him, her hands glowing gold.
— Restorative Healing.
Light wrapped around the swollen joint. The swelling faded. Color returned.
Keara examined both parents carefully. Small cuts. Bruises. Mild malnutrition.
She worked for ten minutes. When she finished, sweat ran down her face.
— They’ll be fine — she announced. — But they need rest and proper food.
Jelím leaned against the wall, mask still in place. Her posture sagged slightly. Subtle, but real exhaustion.
Dagon watched her.
— You used a lot of power back there.
— I’m fine — she replied firmly.
But Dagon saw the truth. Manipulating six minds at once, even lightly, had taken its toll.
Even veterans have limits.
Any’s mother looked at them through tears.
— Thank you… thank you…
Dagon merely nodded.
— Rest. We’ll retrieve Any soon.
He turned toward the exit.
That’s when he heard it.
A bell.
Distant. But unmistakable. Coming from the surface.
Not a standard alarm. A specific pattern—three long chimes, pause, three short.
Keara frowned.
— What does that mean?
Dagon clenched his teeth.
— Total city lockdown. No one in. No one out.
— They’re searching for the escaped prisoners — Jelím added.
— And anyone who helped them — Dagon said grimly.
He looked at the exhausted parents.
— Which means we need to get you—and Any—out of Thornvale. Today.
---
[MUTE PERSPECTIVE — STEVE]
Steve woke up sweating.
The white plain. Again.
But this time…
Nessira stood ten meters away.
No longer impossibly distant. He could see details now—the delicate patterns of her white dress, individual strands of black-and-gray hair flowing without wind, the outline of her face still turned away.
— Seven percent — she said, her voice echoing differently. Almost… human. — Keep going, Steve.
She extended her hand. Didn’t turn around. Just raised her arm.
— Keep coming toward me.
Steve tried to step back. He couldn’t. His feet wouldn’t respond.
Her hand began to glow. Pulsing violet-black.
— Soon, we will be complete.
Steve jolted awake.
Breathing ragged. Shirt soaked with sweat. He looked around frantically—
Any was sleeping beside him.
In the same bed.
Steve froze.
How… when…
Vague memories surfaced—the inn had only one room available. Dagon had “forgotten” to mention it. Nothing happened during the night. They just… slept.
But it was strange.
Any lay facing him, her veil still covering her face even in sleep. Her hand rested nearby, almost touching his arm.
The forced kiss returned to his mind.
She used me. To hurt Adrian.
Then why did she hold my hand afterward?
Why did she buy matching bracelets?
Why…
Any stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible.
Steve slipped out of bed very slowly. He needed air.
---
Thirty minutes later, Any woke up.
She sat up, adjusting her veil automatically.
— Sleep well? — she asked, far too casually.
— …Yeah — Steve lied.
Awkward silence.
Steve opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
— Any, about yesterday… the kiss… I need to—
— We need coffee — she interrupted, standing up quickly. — I’m starving. Aren’t you?
She left the room before he could respond.
Steve stayed there, staring at the bracelet on his wrist.
She gave me a gift. But she doesn’t want to talk about what it means.
What am I supposed to do with this?
He had no answer.
---
The Reunion
They were finishing breakfast—silent, uncomfortable—when the inn door burst open.
Dagon entered. Keara right behind him.
And then—
Any froze. Her cup slipped from her hands, shattering on the floor.
— Mom…? — her voice came out tiny. — Dad…?
The woman immediately burst into tears.
— My daughter… my little girl…
Any tore off her veil. Threw it to the floor.
She ran. Wrapped both of them in an embrace far stronger than Steve would have imagined possible.
The three collapsed right there. Hugging. Crying. Saying things lost in sobs.
Steve watched, something tightening in his chest.
When was the last time I hugged my mother like that?
He couldn’t remember. She was always unconscious.
Any’s father looked over his daughter’s shoulder. Saw Steve. Extended his hand.
— You’re the boy who protected her?
Steve blinked, startled.
— I… kind of?
— Thank you — the man said, his voice breaking slightly.
I didn’t do anything. Dagon did everything.
But Steve replied:
— You’re welcome, sir.
Any looked at him. No veil. Her face fully exposed. Eyes red from tears.
And she smiled.
Genuine. Unmasked. Pure gratitude.
Steve felt something warm bloom in his chest.
Maybe it was worth it.
---
[PERSPECTIVE — ADRIAN]
Adrian stood on the palace balcony when a servant came running.
— My lord! The prisoners… they escaped!
Adrian turned slowly.
— Escaped? — he repeated calmly.
— Yes! Three masked intruders freed them! Twenty guards injured! Your uncle is furious—
— I see — Adrian cut in.
He looked out over the city below. Thornvale waking under lockdown.
Any… you’re free now. Finally.
He closed his eyes briefly.
And I… am still trapped.
His uncle appeared behind him, voice thunderous.
— ADRIAN! DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS?!
Adrian turned. Neutral face. Perfect aristocratic mask.
— Know about what, uncle?
— DON’T LIE TO ME! — the man snarled. — That girl… she planned this!
— Any planned nothing — Adrian replied calmly. — She didn’t even know her parents were imprisoned.
— Then who—
— Adventurers — Adrian cut in. — Hired by someone. I don’t know who.
A lie. He suspected exactly who.
The veteran group. The ones Any sought help from.
The uncle stepped closer, face flushed.
— Find them. Bring them back. All of them. Or the agreement with the crown collapses!
Adrian nodded once.
— As you wish, uncle.
But inwardly, he thought:
Run, Any. Run fast. And don’t look back.
---
The Encounter
Steve and Any ran through the side streets, Dagon leading the way.
Guards patrolled everywhere. Blockades at every main intersection.
— This way! — Dagon whispered, turning into a narrow alley.
They ran. Passed an empty market. Crossed an abandoned square—
Twenty guards appeared in front of them.
Dagon stopped. Turned.
Fifteen guards appeared behind them.
Surrounded.
Keara prepared her magic. Jelím floated slightly. Dagon gripped his sword.
Steve looked at Any—eyes wide, clutching her mother’s hand.
No. Not like this. Not when we finally—
He felt the familiar tingling.
His right hand began to burn.
[PERCENT SYSTEM: FORCED ACTIVATION]
[CONNECTION: 7% → 10%]
Steve whispered, terrified:
— No… not now…
Violet-black seeped through his skin.
The scythe began to materialize.
And Steve realized, with absolute horror:
He wasn’t in control.
SHE was.
