"B-baiting?" Sawyer went white. He remembered his heart pounding those times he'd snuck to watch the path and felt a chill. "How do you know?"
"Instinct—and observation." Shane let him go and swept his gaze over the wavering faces. "That route is too 'perfect'—perfect in a way that isn't normal. The guards' sightlines just happen to skip it, and the shift gaps feel precisely calculated."
"Then… what do we do?" Millianna's voice trembled; she edged closer to Erza without thinking.
Shane didn't answer directly. He pivoted instead: "Tonight there's a high chance a new supply ship docks."
That snapped everyone to attention. Jellal's eyes sharpened. "You mean…"
"When a ship comes in, they have to unload cargo, so manpower gets spread thin. That's also our chance to seize a boat and get off this island." Shane lowered his voice. "My plan is: at first light tomorrow, the instant the overseers blow the whistle and drive us to work—when defenses are relatively relaxed… we move."
"Move?" Wally licked his cracked lips, nervous and excited both.
"Yeah." Shane's eyes were keen. "They'll have just woken up—groggy and slow. We'll be rested, not yet on the job: it's the moment of the day when our bodies and minds are strongest. We have to seize the cell block immediately."
"Then we split into two teams."
He crouched and scratched a quick sketch on the ground.
"Team One, led by Jellal. You've got the trust here and know the lay of the land. Wally, Sawyer, Millianna—you go with him." Shane pointed them out in turn. "Your job is to stay in back, free as many slaves as fast as you can, and organize the bodies."
Jellal nodded gravely; Wally and Sawyer clenched their fists. Millianna was scared, but her eyes were firming.
"The other team—" Shane looked to Simon and Erza. "You two are the freshest. Come with me to spearhead the breakout, sow chaos, and draw the main guards and mage-soldiers. We buy the rear time and space."
He paused, voice calm to the point of cold: "It'll be very dangerous. If you don't want to, stay with the rear."
Before they could answer, Jellal grabbed Shane's arm at once. "It's too risky! Ordinary people can't handle mages—that's suicide! We should mass everyone and rush out together!"
"This is the most rational division—and the one with the highest chance of success." Shane eased free, tone unwavering. "The more fire we draw, the safer you'll be in back, and the more people you can free. Once you've cleared the cell block, we regroup and everyone pushes for the coast. That's the best play."
"I'm in." Simon's reply was short and solid—his mind was entirely on finding his sister.
Erza couldn't quite read it. These past days Shane hadn't struck her as reckless. The plan sounded too ideal; a decoy squad was nearly a suicide mission. She didn't believe he'd draft a plan that was pure death.
But after a brief thought, she still nodded. "Me too."
She chose to trust him.
Jellal's brow knit tight. Shane was a rare friend; he was truly worried and tried again. "Drawing the fire is insane. Against mage-soldiers you've got almost no chance. I know you're stronger now, but—"
"Yeah, Shane!" Sawyer blurted, anxious. "Let's just all go together!"
"No. The rear needs time."
Shane shook his head. A single massed push might be "safer," but a bigger group is a bigger target—and he couldn't protect everyone.
Even so, looking at their worried faces, he knew he needed a reason they could accept. He'd planned to use this later to boost morale; he might as well say it now.
He fell silent a moment, then stood, gaze sweeping his companions. He drew a long breath and spoke out, clear and unhidden.
"There are risks. But some things have to be done by someone."
He paused, then said it plainly. "As for the mage-soldiers—don't worry. The mage who appeared and vanished the other day… was me."
…
Shane's even voice carried through the cell. For a heartbeat, the air froze.
"Eh—?!" After that brief dead quiet, gasps burst from all sides—then were smothered at once as hands clapped over mouths, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Y-you're not joking?" Sawyer's chestnut mop practically stood on end as he unconsciously edged back.
"Incredible," Erza breathed, her scarlet hair swaying. She'd guessed he had something up his sleeve, but not this.
Even steady Jellal blinked, palm to forehead. "Wait—wait a minute…"
Around them, the other slaves were rooted to the spot.
"He… what did he say?"
"A m-mage? A mage among us?"
"No way…"
Someone rubbed their ears, wondering if exhaustion had made them hear things.
Whispers rippled like water through the prisoners. On every exhausted, numb, or despairing face, something stirred.
To answer their unease, dark-gold light flickered in Shane's hand—the sacred weapon appeared.
A crimson bow, glowing faintly like circulating life, and radiating a calm that soothed frayed nerves.
Shane held it steadily for all to see.
Doubt vanished. Every gaze—shocked, thrilled, incredulous—locked onto Shane.
He didn't shy away. Revealing himself now was precisely to gather everyone's strength.
He laid out the plan he'd discussed with the others, point by point.
As he spoke, dulled eyes lit one after another. They exchanged looks, their focus returning to Shane as if to the only light in the dark.
"Well? Any questions? If you've got them, ask now while we still have time."
"Let's do it!"
"We're with you!"
"Lead us out!"
Muted but resolute replies rose from every corner.
No one bowed out. And if they failed—so what? They'd long since had their fill of this life.
"Good. Then rest up and wait for tomorrow…" Shane nodded at the flames rekindling in their eyes.
He said nothing more. He dispelled the weapon and went back to his corner to rest with eyes closed.
But everyone felt it: a silent, steely resolve had spread through the cell.
No one truly slept that night.