The Great Myth is not just a myth—it’s a prophecy.

  Of how, whe kingdom of the ibals, basia, would fall down, a hero would rise.

  A hero of both sapien and ibal dest. A hero of such powerful hold of mana—the life-force of this world—that armies would kneel down to him. A hero of such valor that his epics would never go questioned.

  basia fell down a decade ago.

  ***

  The delier that stood atop the velvet throne was marvelous. It shone shtly. It seemed as if his own eyes were sparkling as he stared at the sight.

  He stood at the er, wearing his navy-blue coatee on top of an all-white bo of shirt-pants. He noticed his bck boots were kinda dirty. Why did he always have to screw up?

  If he was being ho, he was clumsy. He wasn't being the General of the King’s personal army anytime soon with that sort of attitude. Not before he was twenty-two.

  Another soldier walked to him and spped his back as he stood beside him, “What’re ya thinking?” he asked.

  “I fot to polish my boots.”

  “Fuck that, Darsh. We got more serious shit to deal with.”

  Both of them turo the throhat faced the empty court right beside them. The pce was huge—around a dozen men would o stand on top of each other to touch the ceiling. And wide enough to seat around a hundred people on both sides across the pathway in the middle.

  A priest, in some shabby ish robes, walked dowhway to the throne. Both of the soldiers were staring at him as his footsteps echoed around. All of his beard had turned white, and there was not even any hair on his head. And, if he’s being ho, the man seemed like he was ing with some bad news—he seemed worried.

  Soon, another pair of footsteps appeared from behind them. They noticed a tall, muscur guy with a cape and a golden walking to the throne.

  It was the King.

  Both soldiers got aside and pced their right fist on their left chest as a salute. “Your honor!”

  He nodded, his head lowered and his hands behind his back, as he walked across them. Another short, sy figure followed him, hidden behind his back. The prince.

  “My Lord! Lord!”

  “What’s the matter, Maharaj?” the king asked.

  “Lord, I-I just s-saw the dream.”

  “What dream?”

  “... It’s… begun, Lord.”

  “What has begun, fool?!”

  “... The Great Myth. It’s begun!”

  The king frowned. “It is but mere folklore, Maharaj. As the royal priest, I do not expect that from you.”

  “I-It’s not, Lord. It’s been years since I’ve been trying to warn you! If it weren't real, you’d not have a heart-atta less tha—”

  “ARGH!” The king held his left chest with both hands. He tried to stand up, but his legs had no power left, so he stumbled and fell down on the ground.

  The priest stood frozen, some steps in front of him. “And… d-die.”

  “Papa!” the prince shouted as he ran to him. He crouched beside his father, desperately shaking his shoulder to wake him up. “Papa! What happened, Papa?!”

  “He won't survive,” the priest said. “In the fifteen seds, he’d die.”

  “Nnnnnmghnmgh!”

  “Shut up!” the prince yelled at the soldiers. “What the hell are you guys staring at?! Bring some water! And meds! Send somebody to call the doctor too!”

  “Y-Y-Yeah,” the other soldier ran off ihe corridor. Darsh stepped closer to the dying king. He didn't uand what was happening in the room, but it was definitely not good.

  He slowly crouched beside him. As the prince shook his dad, he yelled, “What the hell are you doing here?! Do get some he—!”

  Darsh pced both his palms on top of the king’s chest, and began giving him CPR. He kept jerking his hands dowiced his robes were in the way, so he quickly held his colr and tore it open. And tinued with his CPR.

  The prince didn't say anything. He’d have got the idea that Darsh knew what to do in such a situation. So he just kept staring at his father’s half-dead eyes.

  Darsh observed the king’s eyes too—for any damn signal that he’d live. They stared at absolutely nothing toward the ceiling. It… wasn't looking so good.

  … He was no loaking any breaths. And his lips weren't suffering like they were. His skin was turning colder, and his fingers had loosened.

  He’d really died, just like the priest had said.

  Rudra kept shaking his father’s shoulder, trying to wake him up. “Papa! PAPA!” his voice cracked. The lump in his throat choked him as tears began flowing down his eyes.

  … Damn… W-What was happening? Darsh gulped.

  The priest walked up the stairs, lowered his head in front of the corpse, and said, “May the Lord rest in peace.” Theuro the g priomorrow, Lord Rudra Seth, you shall succeed your father, Lord Vikram Seth, and be ed king—at the ripe age of fourteen, the you Dansamia shall see for years to e.” He stood up again. Darsh looked up at the priest as he turned away and said, “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

  His footsteps echoed around as he began walking away from the throne-room. Darsh panted as he stared at that old man’s meek back.

  The Great Myth… is true.

  ***

  That’s it. The metamorphosis was finally plete.

  Because that was the day the antagonist was born.

  ***

  He panted as he dashed down the dark, dingy corridor of his house. He hit one of the cupboards, which threateo fall down, but he pushed it aside on the wall a past. He couldn't care less about all that shit for the moment—even the pain he’d felt on his feet because of hitting the cupboard so hard.

  He quickly sat down by the door and picked his shoes up. And that’s wheiced that he had no socks oed wearing shoes without his socks on—but fuck it for now. He quickly pulled them up and, without even tying his ces, threw himself on the door.

  It was raining so fug hard outside. The gray clouds thundered as put himself out oreet and ran away, leaving his house behind. He was never ing back to this pce ever again. He was so fug done.

  “Ishaan, don't go away!” Mom shouted behind him. But he wasn't stopping.

  He was doh all the fights, arguments, and that shitty aura he felt all around his house. It was suffog, and he didn't want to suffocate anymore.

  Even the cold raindrops that soaked his hoodie and pants felt more fortable than his house. Even the shoes that hit potholes every now and the nicer.

  He ran and ran and ran through those dark and narrow streets, filled with cramped-up houses that were probably drinking tea and sitting in their cozy bs.

  He didn't even know where he was going. He had made so many pns these past few years, but none of them seem eveely real now. He was just being childish with those pns, probably.

  He saw he was nearing a park, that stood hidden on the edge of the street, around those warm little houses. The trees might keep him away from all the water for some time, probably. Without a sed thought, he just ran inside, looked here and there, and noticed a huge tree at the er—that still had warm, dry soil beh it.

  He went up to the er of the park and snuggled himself into a ball—his knees in front of his face, his arms around his legs. He then sunk his faside his chest and knees, and closed his eyes.

  He took a deep breath and sighed. The raindrops were pounding harder than before—harder than even his heartbeat now. He panted and tried to calm himself down.

  Wind passed through him, and he felt cold trig down his spine. He shivered. His drenched clothes were not helping.

  He sniffed—probably because of the rain, probably because he wao cry. Probably both.

  Fuck that, though. He wasn't supposed to say that word, but today, he will.

  Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck everything. Fuck every single fug thing.

  He remembered Mom’s wrathful fad his Dad’s cold, unnerved demeanor as their blurry voices shouted at each other as loudly as they could. He could se—both of them wao choke each other to death. Like they had for the past couple of years.

  His shivering calmed down a little, and he wasn't panting anymore either. His skin, though cold, was adjusting to the atmosphere, so it didn't feel as painful as it was some time ago.

  He took in a deep breath and sighed it out. He was just fourteen—how was he even gonna survive on his own? He’d o find someone who’d give him both work and a pce to live. As soon as possible. Also, he had to escape from this town first. His parents might find him if he stays here.

  He had to go somewhere far, far arobably to the cities, where sapiens live and work. But since he was alone, survival would be harder there. Especially because he was living in a ibals’ ghetto, even though he wasn't supposed to be. But at least he’d be sure his parents won’t e there for him.

  It was gonna be such a hard decision to make. But fuck that for now—he had to think of this rain first. He had to get warmer clothes, and some moo travel away to the own.

  He felt alright now, finally. He could think rationally.

  He sniffed in again. How much time has it been since he’s been here? Probably half an hour?

  He heard some footsteps. Someone was running. Probably toward him.

  Defioward him. His heart punched his chest—what if it were his parents? He pulled his head up. And was relieved to see who it was.

  The girl approached him, her clothes dry and , and seemed worried for him. She was around his age. She threw her cloth umbrel beside and crouched down in front of him. “What are you doing here like this?” she asked him.

  He just stared at her i, f eyes. Just looking at her forted him enough—he didn't need warm, dry clothes anymore. But what does he tell him now? “Sayaka, I, um… What are you doing here?”

  “I noticed you from the baly of my house. What are you doing here?”

  He chuckled a little. “I ran away from my home.”

  “... What? But why?” She sat on the ground beside him, not even g that her cotton dress might get dirty.

  “You know, Sayaka.”

  She sighed. “Oh, that’s why.”

  “Yep.”

  “I don't think you should have dohat, Ishaan.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You should go back.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not going back.”

  “Why?”

  “Just because. I’d go far away from this city, earn my own money, and live on my own. I don't nee—”

  “How will you travel? Do you have any money right now? Or even food?”

  He didn't. He knew he’d messed up. But he didn't wanna accept that. That’s be like accepti. And he’d not lost yet. So, he didn't reply.

  But his silence probably gave her the answer. After all, she was a lot smarter than he was. “Go back, Ishaan.”

  “... No.”

  “Try sometime ter.”

  He gulped in—she was right. He could just try again tomorrow, when it won't be raining as mud he’d have time to steal some money from his parents’ lockers.

  But he didn't wanna go back. He was finally outside, and… he might not be able to do it again. All boundaries were crossed today—he couldn't take it anymore. He was not going back.

  “I’m not going back,” he repeated.

  “Think with your head, Ishaan.” She stood up and raised her hand at him, to pull him up. “e, get up. You rest at my home for now.”

  Home, huh? Home…

  Home, home, home, home, home, home…

  “Ishaan, what are you thinking?”

  He looked up at her. Eveaphorically.

  “e.”

  “... No.”

  “Now you’re being an idiot.”

  He smiled. “I know.” He took her hand and got up. He rubbed his butt and stared somewhere far away. He couldn't meet her in the eyes right now.

  “I…” It was a bitter truth he had to accept—he wouldn't make it like this. He had to prepare. “I should really head bae.”

  She sighed. The rain had started to fade off, and he didn't feel as cold as he was—though his nose was still blocked. “You’re not as big of an idiot.”

  “Haha, yeah.” He finally looked at her, and saw some form of fort in her eyes—like she was finally able to breathe again. He smiled. Now he felt even shittier for making her worry because of him, and for a reason as dumb as this one. He was really an idiot.

  “Let me drop you bae. You don't even have an umbrel,” she said as she picked her umbrel and dusted mud off it.

  “No, you don't have to.” She’d already done enough. He didn't want to embarrass himself more by asking for more help.

  “It’s fine. You just live around the er.”

  “No, Sayaka.”

  “Tch,” she looked at him. And she probably couldn't go against his sharp, determined gaze, so she sighed and looked away. “Okay.”

  He smiled at his win. “Okay the’s head back.”

  He walked below the rain as if he didn't evehose raindrops hitting his shoulders. She reached him and put the umbrel on top of both of them.

  Even if it was just for some moments, Ishaa warm beh the cold rain.

  ***

  Rain had stopped as he stood in front of his house, looking at the drenched road beh his soaked bck shoes. Mom was definitely giving him a beating tonight. It might have been ten or eleven in the night right now, and he had been out for over an hour.

  And he was dripping, from top to toe.

  He sighed, gathered up his ce, and pushed the door. He walked to the corridor, and noticed that the cupboard had flipped. He frowned—he was sure the cupboard hadn’t tumbled when he’d hit it. He then looked around—the photo-frames that hung on the walls were down, the shoes were all over the entrance. He didn't have a good feeling about it.

  His parents surely had a really, really big fight when he was gone. But… why would they make such a mess of the house…?

  He stepped into the corridor. His shoes were leaving big pools of water—Mom won't really like that. So he took off his shoes, folded his pants a little, and then tinued. His feet were still soggy, but his imprints were not as deep as before.

  The wooden floor creaked as he looked around the corridor. Someone had put out all the nterns. The pce was as dark as he’d left it. He reached all the way to the other end of the corridor, which opeo the kit. The dining-table side-down, the chairs were all around the pce.

  And, at one er, between all those fruits lying on the floor… ool of blood. Legs sprawled up in patterns not possible, the body… was of Mom. He looked up at her skinny body, filled with cuts and wounds that were too deep, and then looked at her dead eyes that stared directly at him.

  They were asking for help. And… when she died… they’d probably frozen like that.

  -hat? His hands began to tremble and his chest pounded as he tripped on his ow.

  “M-Mom…?” he weakly called. His neck was too scared to produce a sound. “M-M-Mom? Mom? MOM?! MOM! MOOOOM!”

  He had to do something… He had to call somebody. He sprang up and dashed outside the room.

  That was the day this nightmare had begun.

  ***

  Years ter, as a young d, I stared into her eyes again. But not as Ishaan. I didn't remember who she was, or what we were.

  Fuck, I didn't even remember her name.

  “What’s your name?”

  “... Sayaka. And yours?”

  “Itsuki.”

  “... Oh.”

  “... What?”

  “You have an odd resembh a guy I used to know.”

  “... Seems somebody important.”

  “He is.”

  Prologue ends.

  ***

  Three years ter, Kai Prison.

  There was light on top of this steep climb. It shone shtly that he had to close his eyes for a sed. Then the eyes opened again, and he could see the bluebo sky with white clouds standing tall.

  He stepped out of the adit, his boots thumping through the rocks. The heavy sa his shoulders made it hard for him to even walk, but he’d dohis over a huimes by now. On the edge of the adit, he walked over to where the other sacks were kept and threw down his one among them. Behind, a guy was loading them up on a bullock-cart.

  He sighed as he held his waist and turo the sky. His whole body was covered i. He turo his abs and chest—he’d made quite a muscur body for himself, doing hardcore work like this all day long. Even though he didn't look like a professional warrior or something, at least he had definition. Just if his mana training was going as well as his bodybuilding…

  “Itsuki!” somebody called him.

  “Haruto?” The guy came running toward him. “What’s up?”

  He stopped right in front of him a down to catch his breath. “Huff, huff! Huff, huff! Seven tonight.”

  Itsuki knew what it meant. “Right before dinner?”

  “Yep,” he finally straightened himself and looked him in the eye. “Let’s just wash ourse—”

  The bells rang. Everybody suddenly stopped whatever they were doing and began preparing to go back to the dorms. That’s what ducts the life of them prisohe bells.

  “It’s five already, huh?” Haruto ented. “Didn't quite feel like it today.”

  They both began walking back to the dorms too, just like the others. “I think you should wear a shirt or something,” Haruto ented as he looked at his bare chest.

  Itsuki picked up his shirt and said, “I go ihe adit. It gets dirty, so I take it off befoing in.”

  “And your pants don't?” he smiled.

  Itsuki gave a little smile back for a moment. It was kinda rare for him, but Haruto was actually clever with his jokes sometimes.

  The twilight sky was filled with rge clouds floating around as the su somewhere far away. He liked this kinda warm evenings.

  Meters away on that barren nd, there was a thick, deadly fence. Oher side of it, the adult men worked. And their shifts were a ler than the kids’.

  Some guys were literally lying on the ground. One of the guards took out his sword and poked at the malnourished flesh. “He’s dead, huh?” Haruto stared at him too.

  Itsuki turned his eyes away. They’d be w there year too. They were seventeen, and didn't have much time left here, iion-F, where the teens worked in far better ditions.

  “I hope we could take them out of here too,” Haruto ented.

  “We’ve already talked about it.”

  “I know.”

  Itsuki sighed. Obviously it was better if they could save everybody from the clutches of the Kai Prison. It’d have been eveer if they could save every-fug-body from every single prison-camp like this one, where people are thrown into these dangerous mines against their wishes, where they die such painful deaths.

  But they 't. At least, not until they’re outside themselves. And that’s a bitter pill they have to swallow.

  ***

  Itsuki pulled his shirt down his torso as he turo others. His panions were in a circle, their heads down, as they waited for him to be dohe ntern oop flickered as Itsuki walked up to them and took his pce, beside Haruto.

  The darkness of this cell left an impression on their faces—Ren, Souta, Kenji. But Itsuki was used to this ritual by now. “I’ll begin,” he said. “The opening Haruto and I have been w on is finally plete.”

  Souta smiled at them. “That means we go ahead with the pn now?”

  “Yeah. It’s better if we do it by today or tomorrow.”

  Souta nodded. Kenji the his eyes. “I don't think we should rush it. You guys should go see the B-se, i if we all would be safe.”

  Haruto replied, “We’ve already ied the pce today—which might not be enough, I agree. But we found three pces where we could pnt the bomb. And, we also tracked the path to the armory.”

  Ren just saw the argument unfolding for now, deg not to speak whatever was in his mind. But Itsuki knew he to something, and he didn't trust him enough to leave it be. Itsuki would have got it out of him forcefully, but Ren was very much a part of their pn now, so a fight against him could be dangerous.

  Better keep him close.

  “But do ya know if that’s safe? We gotta make sure no one sees us pnting the bomb—or even the bomb itself. At least not until we’re out of there first. I guess we should observe a little more,” Kenji replied.

  Itsuki tered this one, “I uand your s, Kenji. But the opening we’ve made is not that deep ihe main Kai dungeon. It’s around the edge, where it ects with the Kalin dungeon. Somebody might catch it one day or the other.”

  “Then just make another opening which we know won’t catch their eyes,” Kenji argued.

  “That’s not possible,” Haruto replied. “If the soldiers get to know about it, all hell would break loose. Surveilnce would be tighter—which we 't afford. This one is our best shot, ata hurry to make it work.”

  “And there’s no mana-maniputors among the guards tonight. The battalion had to go for a mission, and won't e batil tomorrow m. That means our ces of success are substantially high. The rumors are on everybody’s mind too. There’d be er time than tonight.”

  Kenji, for this, had no ter-argument. He sighed. “Okay. That means the pn just got a lot more dangerous?”

  Itsuki nodded. Haruto added with a smile, “It wasn't like it was never not dangerous.”

  Souta chuckled a little. Itsuki then asked him, “Souta, what about the b—?”

  Footsteps. Irregur ones. A couple of people walked from cell to cell, delivering food. Somebody reached their cell too and smmed open the rusted metal tch. He then walked ihe food ptes down beside them, and walked out. The tch echoed again, and this time, the man also locked the cell. A away with uards.

  They waited as the footsteps reached for one cell after the other, handing out meals and log the cells up. Everybody had their heads down until then.

  Soon, the footsteps faded away.

  “The bomb?” Itsuki whispered to Souta.

  “I just have to tweak a little tonight. I’ll be done before one AM.”

  One AM was when they’d po begin their escape. “And what about the rumors?” Haruto asked Ren.

  Ren looked ba his eyes for a sed, probably thinking what to say—or probably saying what he wao with his eyes. “Everybody’s talking about it these days. But the fire might die down sooter hurry.”

  “It’s decided then,” Kenji said.

  “Tonight,” Haruto stretched out his arms, ecstatic just with the thought of it, “we’ll be free men.”

  ***

  “Finally, the day has e.”

  “We’ll be leaving this shitty pce behind us, huh?” Haruto ented as he looked at the ceiling. He was drunk—but not on alcohol. Oement.

  Ren, oher hand, was ying on the ground at one er, his hand on his belly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His eyes were closed. He robably resting.

  Kenji finally took the st bite of his food a his pte down, beside others’. He too then y down.

  Souta worked at the far end of the room—behind the mount of our bs and all—on some spherical shit. He told everyohat that ball was the bomb, but Itsuki didn't think it’d explode. But he left that on him.

  The cell of just mortar-a walls and floor, rusted bars at one edge where guards popped up anytime they liked—he’d really spent so much time in there. And now that he was about to leave it, the room felt so… fortable. Almost nostalgic, already.

  “Itsuki,” Kenji asked him, without even opening his eyes again, “what will ya do once y’are out?”

  Itsuki sighed and looked away. He straightened his back, which was on the wall, and pulled his knees up to hold them. He didn't wanna tell all of his pns, so he’d tell him just the shit he could swallow. “I’ll probably go and find Dad.”

  “Your dad, eh? I don't even know if mine would be alive.”

  “Same here,” Haruto ented. “It’s been seven years since my family was…” He lowered his head.

  “... Hmm, I get ya, pal,” Kenji said.

  Haruto gulped. Nobody said anything for a moment. Even Souta lowered his head.

  “Anyways, I’ll be a rogue explorer,” Haruto announced. “Itsuki and I have been thinking about it for so long—we’d form a band and go to dungeons and shit, train our mana, a better at it.”

  “You guys wanna collect the Fragments too?” he asked curiously.

  “Yep. All explorers wanna do that, to be ho.” Fuck, why was Haruto telling them all this shit?!

  “Yeah, nice. Go get all of ‘em Fragments and fuck everybody’s asses.”

  “What about you, though?” Haruto turo him.

  Kenji’s smile faded a little as he thought about it for a moment. “I wanna go bay ghetto. See how many survived.”

  “... This world is nuts,” Souta spoke up. “Ever sihe… invasion, it’s bee so hard for us ibals to survive.”

  “Yeah,” Kenji said. “I fug hate these asshole sapiens.”

  “Sapiens don't have Bloodlust—which is the reason why they’d never see us as humans.”

  “And they’re scared of us for it,” Itsuki remihem. “But we shouldn’t really talk about all this shit for now. Let’s just focus on the mission.”

  “Bloodlust shouldn't be a problem. Some don't even got Bloodlust anymore,” Kenji ented. “Like Itsuki.”

  Itsuki hated when somebody brought up the topic of how he didn't have any Bloodlust. But he could just sigh a go. He should've beeo this shit by now.

  It wasn't that he was a ibal without Bloodlust. He was… a sapien. And sapiens just don't have Bloodlust. Nothing rare about it.

  But he had to act as if he was a ibal.

  “I wanna say something to you guys,” Haruto looked up at all of them. Souta turned bad met his eyes, and Kenji aoo. When Haruto was sure he had everybody’s attention, he announced, “If you guys don't find anything else outside, I hope you all will join our band.”

  Itsuki sighed. He didn't want that—he didn't trust even a single one of these three. And Haruto khat. Yet, he hahis invitation to all of them. Probably out of emotions.

  Haruto stood, and everybody looked up at him. “We have just oive—collect all Fragments, fight this regime, and bring a new era for the ibals.”

  “How’d you two fight the whole fug gover?” Kenji asked curiously.

  “... We don't know. But what we do know is that we’d need a lot of assistance for that, and we’d o train a lot. We’d o level up our mana capabilities, especially raw-mana applications.”

  “I’m not an explorer or something, but aren’t… raw-mana teiques a lot harder than bound-mana teiques?” Souta asked.

  “Yes, they are,” Itsuki told him. “Bound-aura is a lot easier to learn. And to get to raw-mana, you first o perfect your bound-mana applications, except to learn basic raw-mana applications like the mana-shield.”

  “Except Souta, all of us are quite good at bound-aura already. We fight guns with swords now,” Ren ented. “We easily challenge D-level dungeons and, even though I highly doubt that you’d find the Fragments there, you could still get a lot of mana-crystals and earn a lot.”

  “Better than mining mana-crystals for nothin’ iurn here,” Kenji added. “But anyway, how d’ya guys pn to find these Fragments? Y’all ain't got any maps or something.”

  “…We’ll figure that out,” Haruto replied.

  Kenji thought for a moment. “That’s yer problem,” he finally said. “Ya don't have any pns. Just a dream.”

  Itsuki didn't want any of this anymore. “We know. You just shut up about this, Ha—”

  “We know where to begin, though,” Haruto told him.

  “Don't speak any further.”

  “But Itsuki, I—”

  “No.” It was final.

  Haruto sighed and lowered his head. He definitely wao tell him more, but Itsuki had to intervene. Giving away valuable intel just to prove something to someone wasn't the way to go.

  “So, ya don't trust us or something?” Kenji asked.

  Souta stepped in, “Stop it, gu—”

  “I k from the very start. Ya and Haruto rusted the other three of us, right? We were just pawns in yer pns, and after we’re out, it’ll all be over.”

  Ren turned away to the corridor. Souta began fiddling with the bomb again. Itsuki felt they all kinda thought the same too, and that's why they escaped his gaze.

  Haruto told them, “That’s not true. I don't know if it’s the same with Itsuki, but for me… I trust you all more than anybody else in the world right now. And if that weren’t the case, I’d have never asked you all to join our band.”

  Silenobody believed him.

  The aura of the room spoke volumes. There was a lot that everybody wao say, but nobody said anything. Nobody trusted the others enough.

  Could he really escape with… such a dysfunal group?

  “We’ll tell you everything. Once we’re outside,” Itsuki finally said. Ren looked up at him, and their eyes met. “I promise.”

  Ren looked away. Kenji had urned his way. Itsuki sighed. “Souta, how long will it take?”

  “Just a moment more,” he replied as he carefully rubbed the top of the iron shell with gunpowder. “It’d need fire. How do you pn to get that?”

  “I know how to get that with my mana, don't worry.”

  “Alright,” Souta kept the bomb down and stood up. “What time is it right now?”

  “Twelve-thirty,” Ren replied.

  “Just half an hour left, then,” Kenji said.

  Souta held his waist. “Let’s do it, guys. Let’s fet our differences and pull it off.”

  “Yeah. What’s most important for us right now is to get out of this shithole,” Haruto remihem.

  ***

  Y’know what differentiates ibals from sapiens?

  The Bloodlust.

  ***

  Footsteps, dashing through the dark.

  “We might die tonight,” Souta whispered.

  “We know,” Haruto replied. “We were never gonna not die.”

  “Let’s not talk ‘bout death, guys,” Kenji said.

  “Yeah, it’s better if we all focus on the objective at hand,” Itsuki said. “And remember—don't make any mistakes. Even the slightest of slips could get us caught. I’d rather die tryna run away than die by torture.”

  “Me too,” Kenji said.

  “We’ve spent such good times here, guys,” Haruto said. “I don't wanna leave this pce.”

  “You’d be transferred to A-se year. Do you really wan in that Kai dungeon and die?” Souta asked

  “That’s the problem. Staying here meah, and trying to run away meah too,” Haruto replied.

  “We 't be here forever,” Itsuki said. “This day was bound to e.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Focus on the mission, guys,” Ren scolded them.

  “Oh, yeah yeah,” Souta said.

  “We’re gonna reach the ground floor soon. Then we split. Y’all know what to dht?” Kenji firmed.

  “Yeah,” everybody said together.

  “We have three minutes,” Itsuki remihem.

  “Best of luck, guys,” Haruto told everybody.

  The footsteps split in different dires. And faded away.

  ***

  One end of the empty corridor lit up, and a guard—in the usual uniform of a red coat, white pants, and bck boots—appeared out of the er, with a mp in one hand and a musket iher.

  His footsteps echoed oone-floor as he marched through, the inmates and making sure nothing unwarranted was going ohen noticed that the door to one of the cells was wide open.

  He quickly ran up to it and crouched down. He found the pieces of the broken lock by the door. He looked ihe cell was empty.

  The kids had run away.

  He quickly got up and ran back. “Soldiers! Soldiers! Some inmates had run away!

  “This is a serious threat to security! Pick up yer swords and guns!”