The moment the last man stepped inside—
The passage sealed behind them.
The stone slid back into place with a muted thud.
And just like that—
The sewer was gone.
No more dripping water.
No more distant echoes.
Only silence.
A suffocating, controlled silence.
Their footsteps echoed softly now against smooth stone as they continued deeper.
The air changed.
Cooler.
Filtered.
Artificial.
Faint lights embedded along the walls flickered to life as they passed, reacting to their presence. A soft blue glow illuminated the corridor, casting long shadows behind them.
Serethra walked at the front, her pace steady.
Unhurried.
Confident.
"No mistakes this time," she said without turning.
"Secure them properly."
"Yes, Madam."
The tunnel sloped upward gradually.
A faint glow appeared ahead, growing stronger as they advanced—
---
**Above ground—**
Aldric was the first to step out.
His boots hit dry stone as he emerged from a concealed outlet tucked behind a row of tightly packed buildings.
Fresh air.
Well—
Fresher than the sewer.
He took a breath.
Immediately grimaced.
"…Still smells like people."
Behind him, Lyriana stepped out next, followed by the cultist, and then Vaelith carrying the two children securely.
The hidden exit blended almost perfectly into the wall behind them—just another forgotten drainage outlet in the lower district. Easy to miss. Easier to ignore.
Before them—
The city stretched outward.
Narrow streets winding between crooked buildings.
Dim lanterns swaying slightly from worn posts.
Distant voices echoing faintly through the night.
Life.
Normal, unaware life.
Aldric rolled his shoulders slowly.
"Finally."
He glanced back once toward the direction of the sewers.
"…Took long enough."
Lyriana's eyes swept across the surroundings, sharp and calculating.
"We're inside."
The cultist nodded faintly.
"Lower district," she said. "Fewer patrols… but far less predictable."
Vaelith adjusted her hold on the children, her expression calm but her gaze alert.
"They won't expect us to emerge here."
Aldric let out a quiet scoff.
"Good."
His red eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light.
"Because we're not staying long anyway."
He stepped forward into the narrow street.
"Let's move."
The group slipped into the shadows, blending seamlessly with the night.
Above them—
Airships drifted faintly across the sky, their silhouettes cutting through the clouds.
And somewhere beneath it all—
Draven was being taken deeper into enemy hands.
---
**Below—**
The hidden passage opened into a long, structured corridor.
The change was immediate.
Rough sewer stone gave way to smooth, carved walls.
Clean.
Precise.
Artificial.
Lines of soft blue mana lights glowed along the ceiling, casting a cold, steady illumination across the path ahead.
Their footsteps echoed more sharply now.
Contained.
Controlled.
The man carrying Draven adjusted his grip again as they continued forward, his body still limp, unresponsive.
Beside them, the wolfkin boy was dragged along, the grip on his collar never loosening.
Then—
The hallway widened.
Iron bars came into view.
Cells.
Rows of them.
On both sides.
A prison.
Figures lingered in the shadows behind the bars.
Some chained.
Some slumped motionless against the walls.
Others sitting upright—
Watching.
Eyes followed the group as they passed.
Empty.
Broken.
Or filled with quiet, simmering hatred.
A gaunt man with hollow cheeks slowly lifted his head as Draven's body was carried past.
A woman in another cell gripped the bars weakly, her trembling fingers barely holding on.
No one spoke loudly.
Only faint murmurs.
Whispers.
The kind that came from people who had long ago learned that silence meant survival.
The wolfkin boy's ears flattened slowly as his gaze moved across the cells.
Recognition flickered in his eyes.
Not all of them.
But enough.
His jaw tightened.
Serethra walked at the front, completely at ease.
As if this place belonged to her.
Which—
It did.
"Put them in the same cell," she said calmly.
"I don't want them getting any ideas."
"Yes, Madam."
The men moved immediately.
One stopped in front of an empty cell.
The iron gate creaked open.
Draven was pulled from the man's shoulder and dragged inside, his body hitting the cold stone floor with a dull, heavy thud.
The wolfkin boy was shoved forward.
He stumbled—
But caught himself before falling.
He turned slightly.
Just enough to glance toward where Draven had been thrown.
For a brief moment—
Their eyes met.
Or at least…
It felt like they did.
Then—
**CLANG**
The cell door slammed shut.
Locks clicked into place.
The sound echoed down the corridor.
Final.
Absolute.
Serethra turned slightly, her gaze lingering on the two figures inside.
A faint smile curved her lips.
"Let's see how long you last."
Then she turned away.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked down the corridor.
Slower.
Fainter.
Until they disappeared entirely.
Leaving behind—
Silence.
Cold stone.
And captivity.
Serethra paused just before turning the corner.
Without looking back, she spoke lightly—
"I'll be back soon."
Then her footsteps continued.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Measured.
Until they faded completely into silence.
The corridor grew still.
Only the faint hum of the mana lights remained, casting a cold blue glow across the stone.
For a moment—
Nothing moved.
Then—
Draven's fingers twitched.
A subtle motion.
Barely noticeable.
His body shifted.
And slowly… he rose.
Not struggling.
Not staggering.
No signs of weakness.
He simply pushed himself up and settled against the cold stone wall of the cell.
Calm.
Controlled.
As if the fight… the injuries… the capture—
Meant nothing.
Across from him—
The wolfkin boy froze.
His glowing blue eyes locked onto Draven.
Watching.
Studying.
Trying to understand what he was seeing.
A moment passed.
Then another.
"…You're awake."
His voice was low.
Cautious.
Draven didn't respond immediately.
He remained seated, head slightly lowered, as if lost in thought.
The mana collar around his neck pulsed faintly.
A dull glow.
Suppressing.
Restricting.
Silencing any trace of power.
The boy's ears twitched.
"You let them catch you."
It wasn't a question.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Why?"
Slowly—
Draven lifted his gaze.
Their eyes met.
"Because…"
His voice was calm.
Measured.
But carried a quiet weight that made the boy tense instinctively.
Draven tilted his head slightly, his cloak settling around him like a living shadow.
"Running blind won't save anyone."
A faint pause.
"Charging in recklessly won't either."
His gaze didn't waver.
"But thinking…"
Another pause.
"…planning…"
His voice lowered just slightly.
"…that just might."
The boy's ears twitched again.
Uncertainty flickered across his face.
Draven leaned forward slightly, resting his arms loosely on his knees.
"You watch."
"You learn."
"And you survive."
His eyes sharpened just a fraction.
"That's the only way you'll ever help anyone."
The boy's tail flicked behind him.
He didn't respond immediately.
But the tension in his shoulders eased—just slightly.
Because now he understood.
Draven wasn't defeated.
He was waiting.
The faint hum of the mana collar pressed against their necks, grounding them both in reality.
Limits.
Restrictions.
Control.
Draven's gaze drifted toward the faintly glowing bars of the cell.
The suppressive field hummed softly in the air.
Then he spoke again.
Flat.
Blunt.
"And I'm pretty sure I didn't hide the plan."
His eyes shifted back to the boy.
"…Or were you not listening when I spoke?"
The boy stared at him.
Silent.
Draven exhaled faintly and pushed himself up to his feet.
"Forget it."
He rolled his shoulders slightly, subtly testing the limits of the collar—just enough to feel its constraints without drawing attention.
Then his gaze locked onto the boy again.
"Tell me something simple."
A pause.
"Where did you see the one you want to save…"
His tone sharpened slightly.
"…which cell was she in?"
The boy didn't answer.
His ears twitched once.
Then went still.
Silence stretched between them.
Draven watched him for a second longer.
Then his expression flattened.
"…You didn't look."
The boy's jaw tightened.
Draven tilted his head slightly.
"Are you brain dead…"
His voice dropped.
Cold.
Sharp.
"…or just fucking stupid?"
The words landed like a strike.
The boy flinched.
His claws dug into his palms.
"I—"
He stopped.
Because he didn't have an answer.
Draven clicked his tongue softly and looked away.
"Fucking great."
He stepped closer to the bars, his eyes already scanning down the corridor.
"Rescue mission…"
A faint pause.
"…and you don't even know where the target is."
Behind him, the boy's ears flattened completely.
Shame.
Frustration.
Helplessness.
All of it flashed across his face.
But Draven didn't look back.
His focus had already shifted.
His eyes moved steadily, taking in every detail