Down below, in the cold silence of the tunnels, the vibrations became unmistakable. They were explosions, muffled screams, the unmistakable sound of a full-scale battle. Zugiy stopped, his palm pressed against the cold rock wall, feeling the echoes of the chaos his friends had unleashed.
Would I be more useful up there?, he wondered for a moment. His ability could turn the tide of the battle, control the field, protect his companions. The image of Grux calling his power "ridiculous" flashed through his mind. Maybe now was the time to prove him wrong.
But then, he remembered Ling's words: "Your priority is to find the hostage." Ling had trusted him with the most crucial part of the mission—the one that didn't rely on brute force, but on precision and stealth. No. His place was here. He was exactly where he needed to be.
Pushing the doubts aside, he focused again, using his power to sense beyond the rock. And then he heard it. A different sound, close. A faint, muffled cry.
Following the sound, he reached a wider section of the tunnel, where several crude cells had been carved into the walls, sealed with thick, rusted metal bars. Inside them, dozens of Kherians were crammed together, their eyes filled with despair. They were merchants, travelers, families… all prisoners of Crismon.
Inside, Zugiy felt a jolt—a wave of cold anger at seeing so many people trapped like animals. On the outside, his expression remained calm, focused. His eyes scanned the cells until he found her. Curled up in a corner, hugging her knees, was a small Kherian girl, with tiny horns that had barely begun to grow. Lyra.
One of the older prisoners saw him in the darkness. "Help…?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with hope and fear. "Did you come to help us?"
Zugiy didn't answer with words. He raised his hand.
The metal bars groaned under an invisible pressure. With a sharp twisting sound and a loud crack, the locks and hinges of every cell shattered simultaneously. The doors creaked open.
"You're free," Zugiy said, his voice low, yet echoing in the stunned silence.
For a second, no one moved. Then reality hit them. They were free. A murmur of joy and relief spread through the cells. People began to step out, crying, embracing one another. The little girl, Lyra, ran to Zugiy and hugged his leg, crying in relief.
"Thank you! Thank you, mister!" she said.
Other prisoners approached, touching his arm, thanking him in their native language, tears in their eyes. Zugiy, who had always kept his distance from people, was caught off guard by that wave of gratitude and emotion. He felt awkward, trying to respond to everyone, but the words barely came out. It was overwhelming… and good.
---
Meanwhile, in the main cave, the battle raged on. Crismon, seated on his throne, felt a faint tremor coming from below. It wasn't from the battle. It was different. He remembered the prisoners. His "investments."
"Mila!" he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The black-haired gunner, who had been exchanging fire with Ling, stopped. "Boss?"
"Forget the swordsman! Go check on the prisoners! NOW!" he ordered.
Ling saw his chance. If Mila left, he could focus on the other two. He moved to intercept her, but Skitter and Silas reacted like lightning, blocking his path. Skitter attacked from above with her spider-like legs, while Silas forced him back with his poisoned daggers. He was trapped.
"Got it, boss! I'll take a look and be right back to finish the job!" Mila said with a sadistic grin. She turned and ran toward the tunnel leading to the cells.
Ling watched, powerless, as she disappeared into the darkness. A cold concern gripped him. Zugiy was down there. Alone. And a professional assassin was heading straight for him.
He blocked a strike from Silas, his mind racing. There was nothing he could do.
All he could do now… was trust.
Trust in Zugiy's ability.