Owen had searched the entire space—every corner, every cabinet, every loose plank—but found nothing. A few of the others who still had strength joined him, but all they uncovered was solid rock or steel paneling.
No exit.
Behind them, the river water continued to rise, visibly inching higher by the second. Based on the water level, the rest of the tunnel was likely already fully submerged.
Owen looked up. The ceiling of the utility room was bare rock, not reinforced or reinforced in any obvious way. Then he glanced around again.
They were in another dead end.
He gritted his teeth, struggling to understand why the people outside had directed them to this place. The prisoners, surprisingly, stayed quiet—no shouting, no swearing. They understood now: if they hadn't followed Owen's lead earlier, they would already be dead. His judgment had saved them once. And although they were still trapped, at least they were alive.
…
Outside the tunnel, the rescue team pored over structural schematics. The utility room they had rediscovered existed on the physical model but wasn't marked in the structural plans. It had been built decades ago, apparently forgotten.
After a round of debate, the rescue captain finally slapped his hand on the table. "Based on the structure, Point Z is the closest. We blast an entry there."
Action!
…
Back inside the utility room, there was no noise except the gentle lapping of the water. Everyone was silently watching Owen, waiting for him to lead them to salvation once more.
He moved from corner to corner, visibly more anxious by the minute.
Then—
Squeak… squeak… squeak…
A strange sound echoed through the room.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of rats began pouring in from the same flooded entrance they had used, scrambling up onto the dry floor and scurrying across the room in a chaotic frenzy.
The sheer number of them made everyone's skin crawl—even Owen, who wasn't usually squeamish about rodents, found himself recoiling. No one screamed, but everyone instinctively gave the rats room, pressing to the sides.
The rats hurried past them… and disappeared into the wall.
Behind the wall—there was a way out!
"Move those crates—quick, quick!"
Owen rallied the group. People scrambled to clear the debris stacked against that section of wall. Sure enough, beneath the trash and rusted shelving was a small air hole near the base of a steel panel. Owen crouched down, pressing his hand near the hole. A gentle draft tickled his skin.
Airflow. That meant the space beyond was not sealed—there was more room on the other side.
"Bang! Bang!"
He knocked on the steel panel. It rang hollow.
"Start breaking through!"
Everyone jumped into action. The utility room already had a few tools lying around. With makeshift hammers and crowbars in hand, they went at the metal, the sound of clang! clang! echoing against the tight walls.
"Fuck!!"
Swearing and frustration followed. The wall was solid—riveted, welded, reinforced. After several minutes, all they had to show for it were aching hands and sweat-soaked shirts. The rats were gone. The water kept rising.
"Step back!"
Owen pushed his way forward, holding a block of C4 in his hand. Blasting explosives in an enclosed space was dangerous—it could cause a collapse. But with the water rising so fast, there was no time left. He had to gamble.
Three…
Two…
One…
BOOM!
The blast rocked the entire chamber. A high-pitched ringing followed, accompanied by a wave of pressure that thumped in their chests and pulsed in their ears. When the smoke cleared, a gaping hole had been blasted through the wall.
Owen rubbed his ears, trying to get his hearing back. Then he flashed his light through the opening—rat corpses were scattered across the floor.
There was no time to hesitate.
Owen dove through first. The others followed closely behind. One by one, they poured through the hole into a narrow tunnel.
Ahead, just a few meters away, a spiral staircase rose upward—its steps made of aged, creaky wood, climbing into darkness.
Owen turned and waved them forward. "Go, go, go!"
He climbed with them, counting heads as they passed. No one was missing. For now, that was enough.
They pressed on.
Step after creaking step, the staircase groaned under their weight. It hadn't been used in decades. Some of the railings had already disintegrated under Owen's touch.
"Hurry!"
Owen urged them forward, his voice sharp with urgency.
CRACK!
A loud snap echoed above—someone had stepped on a weakened plank. It split in half, and the man went tumbling down.
He didn't die. The water below cushioned his fall. He flailed for a moment, then swam toward the base of the stairs.
But the scare spurred the others. They panicked, clawing their way upward like their lives depended on it—because they did.
Owen prayed silently: Don't break… please, just hold a little longer…
But it didn't.
The staircase, already compromised, couldn't withstand the frenzied scrambling. With a groan like a dying beast, it snapped near the point it had previously cracked.
The entire upper half collapsed, and everyone on it fell.
Splash!
Owen plunged into the freezing water. He surfaced seconds later, sputtering, and quickly scanned for survivors.
Two prisoners and Attal surfaced near him, coughing and spitting water.
"Owen! No—Owen!"
Beth's voice rang out from above. She had made it—she hadn't fallen.
Tears streamed down her face when she saw him surface. "We have to save them!"
She turned to the others—but no one moved. Only Chen Mike looked back.
"Scum… you're all scum. He saved your lives, and now you turn your backs!"
Beth's fury cut deep—but no one answered. Their silence was deafening.
"…Save yourselves," one muttered.
It was a shameful gesture, but before they left, one of them tossed down a waterproof flashlight. It landed near Owen with a splash.
Then they were gone.
Beth stared down helplessly. She could do nothing—she had no rope, no tools, no leverage. The ledge was at least three meters above the water. The rock wall was smooth, impossible to climb.
Below, Owen and the others had already tried multiple ways to scale it—but each attempt ended in failure.
The only chance now was to wait—wait until the water rose high enough for them to reach the staircase again.
If they could survive that long.
Already, their limbs were shaking. Hypothermia was setting in. Their muscles were weak. Their minds were beginning to fog.
Owen slipped again from the rock face, splashing back into the water.
Up above, Beth cried openly now, watching helplessly.
Owen had flown across the country just to protect her—and now he was stranded in an icy death trap.
And there was nothing she could do.
------------------
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Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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