The tiny armored Palico moved like it had been born inside the Tower.
It darted ahead, stopped at corners, twitched its ears, and waved the children forward with sharp little gestures.
To everyone else, it looked like an unusually intelligent cat.
To Alastor and Zestial, it sounded like a soldier already regretting its assignment.
“Stop!
Patrol ahead.”
What emerged from its mouth was a sharp, urgent:
“Mrrp!”
Zestial understood the meaning as clearly as if the Palico had spoken beside his ear.
He threw out an arm.
“Wait!”
The children stumbled to a halt.
A heartbeat later, three guards ran across the next corridor, swords drawn.
They passed without noticing the narrow side passage where the children were hiding.
Alastor slowly leaned toward the Palico.
“…I take back every cat joke I’ve ever made.”
The Palico stared at him.
“Purr-haps you should.
Somehow, I doubt you will.”
Everyone else heard:
“Mew.”
Alastor blinked.
“Rude.”
Zestial looked between them.
“You understood that?”
“Every judgmental word.”
“So did I.”
Erza frowned.
“Understood what?”
The Palico stamped one armored foot.
“Introductions later.
The escape route ahead is clear, but not for long.
Move your paws.”
To Erza and the other children, it sounded like a series of meows and chirps.
Zestial pointed down the passage.
“It says the route is clear.”
Alastor grinned.
“It also says we need to move our paws.”
“We don’t have paws.”
“You’re focusing on the wrong part.”
The Palico dragged both paws down its face.
“Meowster, your brother is going to make this assignment exhausting.”
Zestial stared at it.
“Did you call me ‘Meowster’?”
“Mrrp.”
“What did it say?” Sho asked.
Alastor’s grin widened.
“Nothing Zestial’s emotionally prepared to discuss.”
Erza stepped past them, her expression tight with urgency.
“Keep moving.”
The Palico pointed after her.
“Paw-some.
Someone here understands priorities.”
Only the brothers laughed.
The others heard another satisfied meow as the Palico hurried ahead.
Chapter 3: The Cat’s Road
The tiny armored Palico moved like it had been born inside the Tower.
It darted ahead, stopped at corners, twitched its ears, then waved the children forward with sharp little gestures.
To everyone else, it looked like an unusually intelligent cat.
To Alastor and Zestial, it sounded like a soldier already regretting its assignment.
“Stop!
Patrol ahead.”
What emerged from its mouth was a sharp:
“Mrrp!”
Zestial understood the warning as clearly as if the Palico had spoken beside his ear.
He threw out an arm.
“Wait!”
The children stumbled to a halt.
A heartbeat later, three guards ran across the next corridor, swords drawn.
They passed without noticing the narrow side passage where the children were hiding.
Alastor slowly leaned toward the Palico.
“…I take back every cat joke I’ve ever made.”
The Palico stared at him.
“Purr-haps you should.
Somehow, I doubt you will.”
Everyone else heard:
“Mew.”
Alastor blinked.
“Rude.”
Zestial looked between them.
“You understood that?”
“Every judgmental word.”
“So did I.”
Erza frowned.
“Understood what?”
The Palico stamped one armored foot.
“Introductions later.
The escape route ahead is clear, but not for long.
Move your paws.”
To Erza and the other children, it sounded like a series of meows and chirps.
Zestial pointed down the passage.
“It says the route’s clear.”
Alastor grinned.
“It also says we need to move our paws.”
“We don’t have paws.”
“You’re focusing on the wrong part.”
The Palico dragged both paws down its face.
“Meowster, your brother’s going to make this assignment exhausting.”
Zestial stared at it.
“Did you call me ‘Meowster’?”
“Mrrp.”
“What did it say?” Sho asked.
Alastor’s grin widened.
“Nothing Zestial’s emotionally prepared to discuss.”
Erza stepped past them, her expression tight with urgency.
“Keep moving.”
The Palico pointed after her.
“Paw-some.
Someone here understands priorities.”
Only the brothers laughed.
The others heard another satisfied meow as the Palico hurried ahead.
The passage was cramped and uneven, clearly not meant for large groups.
Children squeezed between broken supports and beneath low stone arches while distant shouting chased them from every direction.
Somewhere deeper inside the Tower, the rebellion was still spreading.
Somewhere behind them, the guards were regrouping.
And somewhere ahead, freedom waited.
Maybe.
Alastor hated that word.
Maybe meant weak bridges.
Maybe meant locked doors.
Maybe meant someone didn’t make it.
He glanced at Erza.
She was young.
Too young.
But she moved like a blade already halfway drawn, all focus and stubborn courage.
Sho stayed close to her, trying to look brave and failing in a way only children could.
Wally kept muttering about turns, walls, and bad odds.
Millianna helped two smaller children walk.
Simon guarded the rear, big for his age and already acting like he’d rather be hit than let anyone else fall.
They were all children.
Every single one of them.
Alastor clenched his fists.
Golden sparks crawled across his knuckles.
Zestial noticed immediately.
“Don’t force it.”
“I’m not.”
“Your hand’s glowing.”
“Maybe it likes me.”
“Alastor.”
The tone worked again.
Alastor exhaled, and the glow faded.
“I know.”
He didn’t, actually.
He knew nothing.
He didn’t know why he had two names in his head.
He didn’t know why he remembered a life outside this world and years inside the Tower.
He didn’t know why his body could transform into pieces of monsters.
He didn’t know why Zestial could summon armor, weapons, tools, and now a talking Palico with better survival instincts than most adults they’d ever known.
But he knew his brother.
That was enough for the moment.
A scream echoed from ahead.
The group froze.
Erza moved first.
The passage opened into a storage chamber filled with broken carts, ropes, crates, and rusted tools.
Several children were trapped inside, cornered by two guards.
One guard held a torch near a pile of oil-soaked cloth.
“Come closer and I’ll burn it!” the guard shouted.
The children whimpered.
Erza stepped forward.
“Let them go.”
The guard sneered.
“You’re the one who started this, aren’t you?”
Alastor felt the air change.
Erza didn’t flinch.
“Let them go,” she repeated.
The second guard raised his sword.
Zestial’s hand twitched toward his waist.
Nothing appeared.
His magic stayed silent.
His stomach dropped.
Not now.
He tried again.
Tools.
Armor.
Anything.
Still nothing.
“Zestial?” Alastor whispered.
“It’s not working.”
“Mine either.”
That was a lie.
Alastor could feel something beneath his skin, but it was restless and sharp, like a beast pacing inside a cage.
He didn’t know how to open the door without letting it bite everyone nearby.
The torch moved closer to the cloth.
“Drop your weapons,” the guard ordered.
Erza only had a stolen length of metal in her hands.
Simon stepped forward beside her.
“Don’t.”
The guard smiled.
Alastor’s eyes darted around the chamber.
Crates.
Rope.
Old hooks.
A broken cart.
A bad plan started forming.
That was still better than no plan.
He leaned toward Zestial.
“Can your Palico understand bad ideas?”
Zestial gave him a flat look.
“It’s been following you, so probably.”
The Palico looked offended.
“I understand bad ideas purr-fectly.
Your brother appears to be an expert.”
Alastor pointed toward the broken cart, then at the rope, then mimed pulling it.
The Palico stared at him.
“I see.
Roll the cart into the guard, remove the torch, and create an opening for the prisoners.”
Alastor blinked.
“Exactly.”
Zestial looked at him.
“That was your entire plan?”
“You understood it.”
“The Palico explained it.”
“Still counts.”
The Palico saluted.
“Leave the cart to me.
Be ready to catch the fire.”
It vanished behind the crates.
To everyone else, the exchange had consisted of gestures and several purposeful meows.
Erza glanced at them.
“What’s it doing?”
“Improvising,” Zestial said.
Alastor nodded.
“It’s definitely one of us.”
The guard’s patience snapped.
“I said drop it!”
Erza slowly lowered her weapon.
The guard with the torch smiled wider.
Behind him, the broken cart lurched.
A rope went tight around one wheel.
The Palico dug its tiny boots into the floor and pulled with everything it had.
“Come on, you oversized pile of splinters.
Move your miserable wooden paws!”
The cart rolled down the uneven stone floor.
Creak.
Creak.
Creak.
The guard turned.
“What—”
The cart slammed into his legs.
He fell backward with a shout.
The torch flew from his hand.
Alastor moved without thinking.
Golden light exploded from his body.
His arm transformed—not into a bear-like limb this time, but something scaled and dark, with long claws and thick hide.
He lunged and caught the torch before it struck the oil-soaked cloth.
For one breath, everyone stared.
Alastor stared too.
The flames reflected in his widened eyes.
“…Got it.”
Then his transformed hand started smoking.
“Hot.
Very hot!”
He tossed the torch into an empty water barrel.
Steam hissed.
The second guard charged him.
Erza intercepted.
She struck low and fast, carrying all the fury of a child who’d decided fear was no longer useful.
The guard staggered.
Simon hit him next.
The man dropped.
The trapped children ran.
Zestial grabbed one boy by the shoulders and checked him quickly.
“Are you hurt?”
The boy shook his head.
“Go with Millianna.”
The boy ran.
The Palico climbed out from behind the cart, dragging its rope with proud little dignity.
“Objective complete.
No prisoners burned.
Cart performance unacceptable but sufficient.”
To everyone else, it said:
“Mew.”
Alastor pointed at it.
“That Palico’s terrifying.”
Zestial looked at the collapsed guard, the rescued children, and the rope.
“That Palico’s organized.”
“Same thing.”
“I’ll accept both,” the Palico said.
Erza looked at the brothers again.
This time, her gaze remained on them longer.
“Who are you two?”
Alastor opened his mouth.
No good answer came out.
Zestial saved him.
“Slaves trying not to die.”
Erza studied him.
Then she nodded once.
It wasn’t trust.
Not yet.
But it was enough.
A distant crash shook the chamber.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Wally cursed under his breath.
“This place is coming apart!”
Sho grabbed Erza’s arm.
“Erza, we have to go!”
She pulled free and looked around.
“I have to back for Jellal.”
The name struck the room like a stone dropped into water.
Alastor’s expression changed.
Not missing.
Captured.
The sluggish memories inside his head shifted into place.
Jellal had tried to rescue Erza.
He’d fought the guards.
Then they’d taken him instead.
Zestial remembered it at the same moment.
Their eyes met, and neither needed to explain what the other had realized.
Sho turned.
“He’s in the dungeon.” Erza continued.
Simon looked back toward the passage.
“Before they brought me back.” Her hand rose toward the bloodied side of her face before stopping.
“He found me in the punishment cell.
He fought three guards, but another one came from behind.”
Sho stared at her.
Millianna’s voice trembled.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because we were already trying to survive!” Erza snapped.
Erza’s expression changed.
The fierce leader was still there.
But beneath it, for the first time, Alastor saw the frightened girl.
“Jellal…”
Zestial felt his stomach twist.
He remembered pieces.
Not enough.
Never enough.
He remembered Jellal mattered.
He remembered something went wrong.
He remembered Erza leaving the Tower alone.
He remembered hatred, manipulation, and years of pain born from this day.
But memory from another life wasn’t a map.
It was broken glass.
Sharp, scattered, and dangerous to grab blindly.
Alastor noticed his expression.
“What?”
Zestial shook his head once.
“Not here.”
Alastor understood.
Questions later.
Warnings later.
Survive now.
Erza turned toward the corridor they’d come from.
“I’m going back.”
Sho’s eyes widened.
“No!
We have to escape!”
“Jellal’s still there!”
Simon stepped closer.
“Erza—”
“I won’t leave him!”
No one had an answer.
Because it was Erza.
Of course she’d go back.
Alastor looked toward the sound of approaching guards, then at the children gathering behind them.
He wanted to say they should all go together.
He wanted to say he could handle it.
He wanted to say a lot of stupid, brave things.
Zestial spoke first.
“The younger kids can’t go back through that corridor.”
Erza’s jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“We split,” Zestial said.
Alastor stared at him.
“We what?”
Zestial pointed toward the Palico.
“It found a narrow route.
It can guide the children forward with Simon, Wally, Sho, and Millianna.”
Sho immediately protested.
“I’m not leaving Erza!”
Erza looked at him.
“Sho.”
Her voice softened, but only slightly.
“Help them.”
Sho trembled.
He hated it.
Everyone could see he hated it.
But more children were crying behind him.
Erza had given him something to protect.
Simon stepped forward.
“I’ll take them.”
Erza looked at him, gratitude and worry crossing her face at the same time.
“Simon…”
“I’ll keep them moving.”
Wally adjusted his broken glasses with shaking fingers.
“Yeah, yeah.
We’ll get the tiny ones out.
Great plan.
Terrible plan.
Only plan.”
Millianna clutched the hand of a little girl.
“Erza…”
Erza gave her a small nod.
“I’ll come back.”
Alastor didn’t like how much that sounded like a promise the world wanted to break.
Zestial looked at his brother.
“We’ll go with Erza.”
Alastor’s grin returned, but it was thinner than usual.
“Good.
I hate sensible plans.”
“This isn’t sensible.”
“Even better.”
The Palico hurried to Zestial and tugged on his pant leg.
“Meowster, the main route’s filling with guards.
The smaller children won’t reach the exit without a guide.”
To everyone else, the warning came out as:
“Mrrp!
Mew!”
Zestial crouched.
“You want to stay with them.”
The Palico nodded.
“I’m the best scout available.
It’s the purr-fectly logical choice.”
Alastor tilted his head.
“Did he just volunteer?”
“He wants to stay with the evacuation group.”
Alastor looked down at the Palico.
For one ridiculous second, he wanted to argue with it.
Then the Palico saluted.
Small.
Armored.
Determined.
Zestial swallowed.
“Keep them safe.”
The Palico placed one paw against its chest.
“You have my word, Meowster.”
It turned toward the children and raised its voice.
“Everyone stays close.
Small paws in the middle.
Strong paws on the outside.
If I stop, you stop.
If I run, you run.
No one gets left behind.”
The children only heard a commanding stream of meows and chirps.
They still seemed to understand enough.
The Palico ran to the front of the group and waved for them to follow.
Simon took the rear.
Wally and Millianna gathered the smaller children.
Sho hesitated the longest.
Finally, he looked at Erza.
“You’d better come back.”
Erza nodded.
“I will.”
The groups separated.
The Palico led the children down the narrow passage.
Erza turned back toward the heart of the Tower.
Alastor and Zestial followed.
For several seconds, none of them spoke.
Then Alastor whispered, “So, to review, we woke up in the Tower, got new names, accidental magic, a tactical Palico, and now we’re going deeper into the murder building.”
Zestial kept his eyes forward.
“Yes.”
“Cool.”
“Not cool.”
“No, definitely not cool.”
Erza glanced back at them.
“Are you always like this?”
Zestial answered immediately.
“Unfortunately.”
Alastor grinned.
“Only when things are bad.”
“Things are always bad around you.”
“See?
Consistent.”
For the first time since the rebellion began, Erza almost smiled.
Almost.
Then a scream echoed from below.
Her face hardened.
“Jellal!”
She ran.
The brothers ran after her.
Behind them, the evacuation continued.
Because of the Palico, more children would reach the outer route before the guards sealed it.
Because of the brothers, Erza wouldn’t go back alone.
And because the Tower of Heaven was a cruel place built on broken prayers, none of them understood yet that helping didn’t mean they could stop everything.
Sometimes it only meant they’d be there when things went wrong.