The paper crane silently slipped through the ventilation opening and entered the dim mine tunnel outside.
Using the crane’s strange, heat-like vision, Vergil carefully guided it forward through the deep darkness.
As it flew toward the mine entrance, Vergil recalled a critical detail he had noticed earlier that day.
Near the entrance tunnels, one particular room had armed guards stationed outside at all times.
A pudgy, middle-aged man wearing expensive clothes had stood near that doorway earlier, his face arrogant and impatient.
Even the high-ranking Hill Family guards lowered their heads respectfully whenever passing him.
Clearly, that man possessed considerable status.
As the paper crane approached the upper tunnels, more heat signatures gradually materialised within its vision.
Guards.
Vergil could easily distinguish living creatures from the oil lamps mounted along the stone walls.
The heat emitted by living beings constantly shifted and pulsed with life.
The lamps remained completely bright and stationary.
Carefully controlling the crane, Vergil kept it pressed close to the uneven ceiling where the dim lantern light barely reached.
The patrolling guards never once looked upward.
Soon, the crane reached the heavily guarded room near the mine entrance.
It quietly slipped through a narrow ventilation gap near the wooden header of the ceiling.
Inside the room, Vergil’s shared vision immediately locked onto a large, pulsing human-shaped heat source.
The moment the crane zeroed in on the target, the inner energy stored within the folded paper suddenly became violently unstable.
The paper crane instantly shot forward like a tiny, silent missile.
Boom!
The mental connection abruptly vanished into static.
Vergil’s real eyes snapped open inside the pitch-black sleeping quarters.
His heartbeat accelerated slightly against his ribs.
Did it kill him?
Or did it only injure him?
When Vergil had first formed the Origami Skill Seed and awakened his inner energy, he had gained the basic foundational ability known as Paper Manipulation.
During his early training days, he had once accidentally overloaded a paper puppet with too much compressed inner energy.
The puppet had exploded instantly, shredding everything around it.
Although it had originally been a dangerous training accident, Vergil quickly realised the immense destructive potential hidden within the flaw.
Since then, he had secretly and meticulously experimented with the technique repeatedly.
Paper Explosion.
That was one of the primary, hidden reasons he desperately needed to secure large quantities of paper from Rock Hill Town.
The sleeping quarters below him were no longer completely silent.
Muffled, frantic voices echoed faintly from the deep tunnels outside.
Vergil also heard old Ham muttering groggily from the bunk below.
“What happened?”
Heavy, running footsteps rapidly passed beyond the locked wooden door.
Guards.
Vergil remained completely motionless atop his upper bunk, his facial expression perfectly calm in the dark.
He quietly waited for the chaotic commotion outside to gradually peak and die down.
Then, he closed his eyes and calmly took a short nap.
Some time later, he naturally woke again, his internal clock telling him hours had passed.
This time, a heavy, complete silence filled the depths of the mine.
Vergil slowly opened his eyes.
Without a shred of hesitation, he carefully reached inside his vest and removed his final paper crane.
Then, he smoothly channelled his remaining inner energy into the folds once more and silently sent the final paper crane out through the ventilation opening.
This time, he did not have a specific target in mind.
He needed to choose carefully.
Using the crane’s strange, heat-like vision, Vergil observed several moving heat signatures patrolling the tunnels outside.
Guards.
Keeping close to the damp stone ceiling, the crane silently flew toward the mine entrance once again.
As it neared the upper tunnels, Vergil hesitated.
Ahead, numerous bright heat sources flickered constantly.
Lamps.
Far too many of them.
The entrance area was fully illuminated.
And because the entrance tunnels sat slightly elevated, a vigilant guard might notice the silhouette of the crane if it crossed openly through the light.
Vergil immediately abandoned the idea and guided the crane back deeper into the mine.
Fine.
A random guard would work just as well.
The ultimate goal was fear.
Panic.
Confusion.
As the crane quietly passed another tunnel intersection, Vergil suddenly noticed a faint heat signature hidden near the wall.
His attention sharpened instantly.
Someone was crouching low beside a locked door.
The heat source barely moved, suppressing its presence.
Vergil immediately understood the situation.
Someone had picked the lock and was preparing to escape the chambers.
Interesting.
Without hesitation, Vergil redirected the crane toward a nearby patrolling guard who was heading directly toward that exact intersection.
At the same time, hidden within the deep shadows near the tunnel wall, Hethon silently tightened his grip on a sharpened metal spike.
He waited patiently beside the partially unlocked door.
He had to escape tonight.
Otherwise, he would eventually die here.
To most common people in Rock Hill Town, he was known simply as Ethan.
But that was only a false identity.
His real name was Hethon.
One year earlier, during a drunken brawl inside a rowdy tavern, he had accidentally killed a distant member of the Hill Family.
The moment sobriety returned, Hethon had immediately panicked and fled into the wilderness.
Yet the following day, he chose to return voluntarily and surrender himself to the authorities.
He genuinely believed the Hill Family would spare his life because it was an accident.
Perhaps forced labour in the pits.
Perhaps a dangerous death squad assignment.
Anything but outright execution.
But when he secretly re-entered the town afterwards to gather information before walking to the garrison, he discovered horrifying news.
His wife, eight months pregnant with their child, had suddenly died in their home.
No official explanation was ever given by the town guards.
But Hethon understood the truth perfectly.
Retaliation.
From that devastating day onward, Ethan appeared.
Hethon bought a realistic skin mask from a shady merchant and hid beneath a completely new identity.
During the day, he became the quiet, submissive Ethan.
At night, he became the vengeful Hethon once more.
Whenever opportunities appeared over the past year, he sabotaged Hill Family property, stole their supplies, or quietly killed isolated workers who were loyal to them.
Now, with this mass round-up, he feared exposure all over again.
So he planned to escape into the night.
Perhaps he would die during the desperate attempt.
But remaining here guaranteed death eventually, once the investigation deepened.
At least escape carried a fighting chance.
Hethon watched the approaching guard carefully through the gloom.
Just a little closer.
Closer.
The moment the guard passed his alcove, Hethon prepared to leap from hiding,
Then suddenly, a white blur shot directly through the darkness.
His seasoned instincts screamed in pure terror.
Hethon reflexively shut his eyes tight and twisted his upper body away.
Boom!
A violent, echoing explosion erupted directly in front of him.
Alarmed shouts instantly rang out from deeper within the dark tunnels.
Hethon reacted immediately, his survival instincts overriding the ringing in his ears.
He sprang to his feet through the billowing smoke.
The locked door beside him now hung completely open, shattered by the blast, while the nearby guard lay sprawled across the dirt path with severe burns covering half his face.
The man was still alive.
Hethon noticed the guard’s chest moving weakly, drawing in ragged breaths.
But he had absolutely no time to care about the fallen man’s fate.
Without a shred of hesitation, he bent down, ripped the iron sword from the guard’s sheath, and sprinted hard toward the mine entrance.
Several startled guards running down the main path immediately noticed his fleeing figure.
“Stop him!”
Hethon ignored the shouting, pushing his legs to their absolute limit.
Ahead, two guards rushed directly into his path, weapons drawn.
Inner energy surged through Hethon’s body instantly, igniting his muscles.
He unleashed a fast, heavy horizontal strike toward the nearer guard.
The guard barely managed to raise his weapon in time to block.
Clang!
The sheer force of the collision violently pushed the guard backwards several steps, breaking their formation.
At the exact same moment, the second guard slashed downward toward Hethon’s exposed neck.
Hethon instantly lowered his centre of gravity, dropping into a deep crouch.
The enemy blade swept harmlessly through the empty air above his head.
Without pausing to recover, he dove forward, slipping through the narrow opening between the first stumbling guard and the rough tunnel wall.
Then, he immediately regained his footing and continued sprinting toward the exit.
The wide mouth of the mine entrance finally appeared ahead, letting in the dim light of the night sky.
But three more armed guards already blocked the way, spears braced.
Hethon’s eyes sharpened coldly, his focus narrowing.
With a flick of his wrist, he quickly pulled three long steel needles from a hidden compartment concealed near his wristband.
The Hill Family had thoroughly confiscated his visible weapons when they rounded everyone up.
But they had never discovered his deeply hidden ones.
While running at full speed, Hethon channelled his inner energy into the needles and hurled all three simultaneously.
The blocking guards’ expressions changed instantly as the projectiles hummed through the air.
They immediately scattered aside, diving to avoid the incoming piercing attack.
That single, fleeting opening was more than enough.
Hethon burst past them, crossing the threshold and escaping out of the suffocating mine entrance.
Without slowing down for a breath, he leapt cleanly over the outer wooden barricade and began sprinting toward the upper edge of the mining pit.
Freedom.
Just a little farther.
His feet pounded heavily against the rocky slope as he climbed upward toward the treeline.
Then, suddenly,
A dark shadow detached itself from the stone wall of the pit.
A silent figure emerged out of the absolute darkness.
Before Hethon could even realise a threat was there, let alone react, a pale palm struck directly into his chest.
Hethon’s eyes widened in absolute shock.
He could not evade.
Boom!
The concentrated impact launched his body violently backwards through the air.
His frame crashed heavily against the rocky ground and rolled uncontrollably down the steep slope before finally slamming hard into the wooden barricade below.
Then, everything became still.
Completely still.
The single, silent strike had shattered his heart instantly.
Next Chapter three hours later.