Finally,
Tristan gasped for air, clutching his entire bruised body as the five Verneuil patrol guards stood absolutely paralyzed.
For a long, agonizing second, nobody moved. The guards simply stared at the two Fallen-class nightmares that had just crashed into the upper level. Normally, standard protocol for a dungeon breach was quite simple: subdue the monsters and use whatever miserable prisoners were nearby as decoys, and run for backup.
Except this time the prisoner wasn’t just anyone.
Despite the filthy rags, the broken chains, and his infamously terrible reputation, he was still the youngest son of the family head. He was a disgraced noble, yes, but noble blood still pumped through his veins. If these guards used him as monster bait to save their own skins, the monsters wouldn’t matter, the family head would have them and their entire bloodlines publicly executed for treason. Probably.
The squad leader, a grizzled man with a scarred jaw, snapped first.
"Form up! Suppress those beasts!" he roared, drawing a wand-like focus from his belt. "Vance, run for the surface! Get the platoon leader! The rest of you, cover me!"
The paralysis broke. The guards fell into a desperate, practiced formation.
The air crackled with raw, volatile essence. One guard thrust his hands forward, unleashing a jagged, blinding arc of lightning that slammed directly into the Vein Eater’s crystalline snout. Another guard chanted rapidly, expelling a roaring torrent of orange flame that engulfed the charging Mutant. The third guard slammed his staff into the stone floor, casting a widespread support spell. A wave of pale green light washed over the squad, accelerating their movements and fortifying their armor.
It was truly an impressive display of First-Tier Awakened coordination.
Except it was completely useless.
The Vein Eater didn’t even flinch, its dense crystal armor passively grounding the lightning bolt into the floor. The Mutant simply walked through the raging fire, its wet, rotting fungal flesh sizzling and popping but refusing to burn.
The spells didn’t stop the Fallen, but the blinding flash of magic created a two-second window.
The squad leader sprinted forward, diving under a wildly swinging limb from the Mutant. He grabbed Tristan by the back of his prison shirt, hoisting him up with magically enhanced strength.
"Fall back! Retreat to the gate!" the leader bellowed, practically dragging Tristan’s battered body alongside him.
They ran. Behind them, the cavern erupted into a cacophony of shattering stone and monstrous roars as the Vein Eater and the Mutant gave chase, enraged by the sudden assault. Tristan gritted his teeth, his injured leg screaming in protest as he was half-carried, half-dragged up the final, winding ascent toward the surface.
The air grew crisp. The stench of the dungeon finally gave way to the cool, sharp scent of the night sky.
They burst out of the cavern’s maw and into the heavily fortified entrance hall of the rift. Torches blazed brilliantly along the towering stone walls.
The guard named Vance had done his job. A small battalion of heavily armored Verneuil knights was already forming a shield wall at the main gate. Standing at the vanguard was a Tempered rank platoon leader, his saturated core radiating a heavy, suffocating aura that made the very air tremble. He was barking orders, his greatsword drawn and glowing with volatile energy.
’The cavalry is here’ Tristan thought.
But salvation meant captivity. If he let the squad leader drag him behind that shield wall, he would be thrown straight into a maximum-security cell. His escape attempt would be over.
Now he couldn’t let that happen now could he.
Tristan forcefully detached himself from the exhaustion dragging his mind under. While the guards were fighting and running Tristan recovered just enough essence for one more use of reave.
He needed a distraction, something that would completely break the battalion’s formation. His mind raced back to his past life, when he was a kid a sudden blackout scared the ever living life out of him. He understood the fear and confusion darkness could cause.
As the squad leader hauled him toward the safety of the Tempered knight’s lines, Tristan closed his eyes and reached out, wrapping his intent around the ambient illumination of the blazing torches, the glowing magic, and the moonlight spilling through the gates.
He didn’t target a physical object. He targeted the environment itself.
[Concept Reaved: Light]
[Uses: 1]
The moment the essence of light was violently ripped from the physical space and tethered to his core, the environment was instantly stripped of it.
The light got deleted.
Instantly, a sphere of absolute, suffocating pitch-black erupted in the center of the entrance hall. It wasn’t just a shadow or a puff of smoke. It was an impenetrable void where photons simply ceased to exist.
Absolute chaos followed.
"I can’t see! My eyes!"
"Hold the line! Do not break formation!"
"Where are the beasts?!"
The disciplined battalion instantly devolved into a panicking mob. Armor clashed blindly against armor. The squad leader who had been carrying Tristan stumbled, his grip loosening in the sudden, terrifying darkness.
Tristan didn’t hesitate. He violently wrenched his shoulder free from the blinded guard’s grasp, dropped to the floor, and rolled toward the outer edge of the chaos, relying entirely on his spatial memory of the hall.
Seconds later, a blinding surge of golden essence flared in the center of the room. The tempered rank platoon leader roared, forcefully burning his saturated aura to shatter Tristan’s fragile conceptual hold.
The light rushed back into the room.
When the platoon leader opened his eyes, his vision adjusting to the sudden brightness, he found himself staring right into the deadly maw of the Vein Eater.
"Holy Goddess!" The platoon leader shrieked while he redrew his sword.
Blood began to spill. The clash of the tempered knight against the two fallen monsters sent faint tremors across the entire hall.
Yet Tristan was nowhere to be found.
Slipping through the iron gates under the cover of the violent magical crossfire, the disgraced youngest son vanished into the night. Completely free.