The Tower of Heaven was louder than Alastor expected.
In the stories, memories, and old episodes from another life, the place had always felt like a tragedy wrapped in stone.
Living it was different.
It was screams echoing from every corridor.
Bare feet slapping against dusty floors.
Chains dragging.
Guards shouting.
Children crying.
Stone cracking overhead as the rebellion spread faster than anyone could control.
“Left!” Erza shouted.
The crowd followed.
Alastor and Zestial ran near the middle, surrounded by younger children who kept stumbling over broken chains.
A little boy fell.
Zestial caught him by the arm before he could be trampled.
“Keep moving.”
The boy looked up at him, terrified.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Zestial crouched just enough to meet his eyes.
“One step.
Then another.
That’s all.”
The boy nodded shakily.
Alastor glanced back and grinned.
“Captain America speech already?”
Zestial shot him a look.
“Not now.”
“Right.
Jailbreak first.
Jokes later.”
“Preferably never.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I absolutely mean that.”
A guard burst from a side passage.
“There!”
Alastor skidded to a stop.
Three more guards appeared behind the first.
The children behind the brothers froze.
Erza was farther ahead, helping clear another path with Sho, Simon, Wally, and Millianna close by.
This group was on their own.
Zestial muttered under his breath.
“We can’t fight four trained adults.”
Alastor raised his fists.
“Sure we can.”
“No, we can’t.”
“We can try.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
The guards charged.
Alastor tried to summon the strange magic again.
His arm twitched.
Nothing.
“Now would be great!”
Still nothing.
A sword came down.
Zestial shoved him aside.
Blue-white magic flashed.
The same armor appeared around him, but not cleanly this time.
One shoulder plate was crooked, the helmet was missing, and the giant blade appeared halfway stuck in the floor.
Zestial stared.
“Really?”
Alastor ducked under a guard’s swing.
“Your magic has performance anxiety!”
“My magic is new!”
“So is mine!”
A guard grabbed Alastor by the collar.
Golden magic erupted across Alastor’s shoulders.
His body shifted.
Not fully.
Not cleanly.
His legs thickened with muscle, his feet clawed against the stone, and a heavy tail appeared just long enough to slam into the guard’s knees.
The man dropped him.
Alastor landed badly, rolled, and came up coughing.
“Okay.
Tail.
Had a tail.
That happened.”
Zestial used the half-summoned great sword as a shield while two guards hammered at him.
Each blow rang through the corridor.
“Alastor!”
“Working on it!”
A strange pressure built behind Alastor’s ribs.
It felt wild.
Hungry.
Not evil.
Just alive.
He pushed it outward without understanding what he was doing.
Golden light burst against the floor.
Something small dropped out of the glow with a startled yelp.
It looked like a squat, lizard-like monster with sharp teeth and confused eyes.
Alastor stared.
The monster stared back.
Zestial stared too.
“…Did you summon a Jagras?”
“I think so.”
The Jagras blinked, looked at the guards, looked back at Alastor, then hissed.
One guard hesitated.
“What is that thing?”
Alastor pointed.
“Go bite him!”
The Jagras lunged at the guard’s leg.
The man screamed and stumbled back.
Alastor’s grin returned.
“That worked!”
“For now!” Zestial shouted.
The summon flickered like a candle flame.
It was unstable.
Weak.
But it was enough.
Alastor rushed in while the guards panicked.
His right arm transformed again, this time into a furred claw.
He slammed one guard into the wall.
Zestial braced himself, shoved with his shoulder, and knocked another off balance with the heavy armor.
The last guard raised his sword toward the children.
Erza arrived before he could swing.
She struck him with a stolen weapon, knocking him aside with a fierce cry.
The guard fell.
Erza turned toward the brothers.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
The summoned Jagras gave one last proud hiss before vanishing into golden sparks.
Zestial’s broken armor dissolved a second later.
Alastor’s claw returned to a normal hand.
Erza stared at them.
“What was that?”
Alastor opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Looked at Zestial.
Zestial answered honestly.
“We don’t know.”
Erza studied them for half a second.
Then another explosion shook the corridor.
She turned away.
“Then figure it out while running.”
Alastor pointed after her.
“I like her.”
“Run,” Zestial said.
They ran.
Farther down the corridor, more children were gathered around a collapsed section of stone.
A group had been cut off from the main path.
Simon stood near the rubble, taller than most of the children and trying to force a gap open with his bare hands.
“It’s too heavy!” someone cried.
“Move back!” Simon ordered.
Sho hovered near Erza, panic and determination fighting across his face.
“We have to get them out!”
Millianna clutched a broken chain in both hands, eyes wet but focused.
Wally pointed toward the ceiling.
“Careful!
More of it’s gonna come down!”
Erza rushed to the blockage.
“We move it together.”
Alastor joined without thinking.
Zestial looked over the rubble.
There were children trapped on the other side.
He could hear them crying.
His hands tightened.
Think.
He forced himself to breathe.
He didn’t understand the armor.
He didn’t understand the weapons.
But the magic had responded when he wanted to protect someone.
Not when he wanted power.
Not when he panicked.
When he needed something useful.
“Come on,” he whispered.
“Not a sword.
Not armor.
Tools.”
Blue-white light shimmered at his waist.
A pouch appeared.
Then rope.
Iron wedges.
A hammer.
Zestial blinked.
“Okay.
That helps.”
Alastor glanced over.
“You made a toolbelt?”
“Apparently.”
“Nerd magic.”
“Useful magic.”
“Same thing.”
Zestial ignored him and moved to the rubble.
“Simon, wedge this under that slab.”
Simon looked at him.
“You know how to move it?”
“No.”
Zestial handed him an iron wedge.
“But I know how to make it less impossible.”
Simon nodded and took it.
Erza caught on immediately.
“Everyone who can push, push when he says.”
Zestial jammed another wedge into place.
“Alastor, can you do the monster arm thing?”
“Maybe.”
“Do it.”
Alastor planted his feet.
Golden light crawled over his right arm.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the arm expanded into the bear-like limb from before.
His jaw clenched.
“It hurts.”
“Hold it.”
“I’m trying.”
Zestial wrapped rope around the largest piece of debris.
“Now!”
Everyone pulled.
Erza pushed.
Simon heaved.
Alastor roared and drove his clawed arm forward.
The slab shifted.
Only a little.
But a little was enough.
One child crawled through.
Then another.
Then another.
Millianna grabbed them as they came out and pulled them to safety.
“Come on!
This way!”
The last boy was smaller than the others.
The gap began to collapse.
Erza reached for him.
“Take my hand!”
The boy screamed as loose stone dropped.
Alastor moved.
His transformed arm shot into the gap and blocked the falling stone.
Pain flashed across his face.
“Get him!”
Erza pulled the child free.
The second he was out, Alastor yanked his arm back.
The rubble collapsed behind him.
His arm returned to normal.
Blood ran down his wrist.
Zestial grabbed him immediately.
“Let me see.”
“I’m fine.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“No time.”
“Alastor.”
The older brother stopped.
Even in the chaos, that tone worked.
Zestial pulled a strip of cloth from his torn shirt and wrapped the wound quickly.
Alastor watched him work.
Then he looked away.
“…We really don’t have time.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because you’re my brother.”
Alastor fell quiet.
Zestial tied the cloth tight.
“Now we can run.”
A soft sound came from near his feet.
“Mrrp.”
Both brothers looked down.
A small armored cat stood there.
It wore a tiny helmet and carried a little pack nearly as large as its body.
Zestial froze.
Alastor slowly pointed.
“…Cat.”
The cat looked up and saluted.
“Scout reporting, Meowster.
There’s a narrow passage ahead.
Too small for most adult guards, but purr-fect for the children.”
To everyone else, the words came out as a sharp series of meows and chirps.
Zestial understood every one of them.
Not through his ears.
The meaning arrived directly inside his mind, carried by the same blue-white magic that had summoned the creature.
Alastor blinked.
“You heard that too?”
Erza blinked.
Millianna gasped.
Sho stared.
Wally leaned sideways.
“Why is there a cat?”
Zestial stared at the Palico.
He understood it.
Not words exactly.
Meaning.
Urgency.
Supplies.
Help.
The Palico patted its pack, then pointed down the corridor with a tiny paw.
Alastor’s eyes widened.
“You understood that too?”
Zestial nodded slowly.
“It says there’s another way around.
Narrow passage.
Too small for most guards.”
Sho looked between them.
“It says?”
The Palico meowed again.
To everyone else, it was just a cat noise.
To the brothers, it carried clear intent.
Alastor stared at Zestial.
“Your magic makes cats.”
“Apparently.”
“Extremely useful cats.”
“Apparently.”
The Palico stomped its tiny foot and pointed again, more urgently.
Zestial straightened.
“It can scout.”
Erza did not waste time questioning it.
“Then we follow it.”
The Palico turned and darted down a side passage.
The children followed.
It moved quickly, but not carelessly.
Whenever someone fell behind, it stopped and waved them forward.
When the path split, it sniffed the air and chose the quieter route.
When loose stones blocked the floor, it dragged smaller pieces aside with surprising strength.
Logistics, Zestial realized.
Not just fighting.
Carrying.
Scouting.
Guiding.
Keeping people moving.
Just like the game.
Just real.
Very real.
The corridor narrowed until the adults among the guards would have struggled to pass through.
The children slipped through one by one.
Behind them, shouting grew louder.
“They went this way!”
“No, down there!”
“Find Erza!”
Erza’s expression hardened at the sound of her name.
Alastor noticed.
“This is your rebellion,” he said quietly.
She looked at him.
He shrugged.
“We’ll help.
But you’re leading.”
Erza stared for half a breath, then nodded.
There was no pride in it.
No arrogance.
Only responsibility.
“Then help me get everyone out.”
Zestial adjusted the strap on his tool pouch.
“That’s the plan.”
Alastor grinned.
“We have a plan?”
“A bad one.”
“Still counts.”
The Palico chirped sharply ahead.
The passage opened into a wider chamber.
A group of children was already there, frightened and cornered.
More guards approached from the far side.
Erza stepped forward.
Simon moved beside her.
Sho, Wally, and Millianna gathered close.
Alastor flexed his bandaged hand.
Zestial took a breath, hoping the armor would answer when he needed it.
None of them were ready.
None of them truly understood what was happening.
But the rebellion had already begun.
And running blind was still better than standing in chains.