Dante stared at his little sister, Nova.
She didn't meet his eyes. No matter how many topics he tried to bring up, no matter how carefully he spoke, it was clear—she wasn't listening.
Or maybe, she simply didn't care.
Her silence wasn't cold; it was hollow, like a door that had been shut a long time ago.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
He knew he had failed her.
He had left her alone—left her during the years she needed him the most. Revenge had clouded everything. It had swallowed his heart whole.
He'd crafted the Original Story [Hiro Hunter], poured every ounce of his grief and fury into it… and then vanished into its path.
He hunted Hiros.
The first one took him years to find. Then came the second. Then more. And before he knew it, he had climbed to A Rank.
But while he chased Hiros through the Sea of Fragments, he had no idea what was happening to his little sister. He had entrusted her to a family, believing it was enough.
Believing she would be safe.
And then—one day—she disappeared.
When she ran away, he hadn't thought much of it.
At the time, revenge still ruled him—his thoughts consumed by one thing alone: the Hiros. Where they were hiding, how to find them, how to imprison them, tear secrets from them… and then, erase them from existence itself.
He kept telling himself there'd be time. Time to come back. Time to make things right.
He thought that once he found one of those responsible for the hatred festering inside him—once he killed it—then he'd look for his sister.
Just check in. Make sure she was okay. Then he'd go back to his path of vengeance.
But a year ago, everything changed.
Word spread across the Blue Trade Records: an A Ranker from the Grey Rose Organization had been kidnapped.
The kind of news that echoed across Fragments.
He wouldn't have paid it much attention—until he saw one of the names involved.
A C Ranker.
A young woman.
Nova.
His little sister.
In that moment, the world around him cracked.
He dropped everything—the chase, the mission, the next target. He called upon every ounce of power [Hiro Hunter] had given him and tracked her down.
He captured her.
He saved the A Ranker.
But nothing about it felt like a victory.
He then pulled every string he could.
Leveraging his Rank, his fame, and his connections to the upper echelons of the Grey Rose Organization, Dante made sure his little sister wouldn't be executed for her crime.
No matter what she had done—he wouldn't allow them to kill her.
Instead, he negotiated for a sentence: fifty years of imprisonment, carried out in a small, heavily guarded facility in Third Town.
Fifty years. For a C Ranker, it wasn't much. In Reader terms, it was closer to five.
Or so said those who had crossed over from the Reader World.
Now, a year had passed. Forty-nine more remained before Nova would be free.
And in that long countdown, Dante made a silent vow to himself—no more running, no more excuses.
He would visit her.
He would talk to her.
He would try—truly try—to understand what happened.
What had broken inside her.
What he'd failed to see.
What path she had taken... and why.
Most of all, he wanted to reconnect.
To see if anything between them could still be salvaged.
But so far, Nova had made her stance crystal clear—she didn't want to reconnect.
In fact, when Dante first tried to visit, she outright attempted to block him. But prisoners in the Story World held no such rights. If they were proven guilty, the system did not offer them the luxury of choice—not even in who came to see them.
Not that the prisons were cruel.
Torture wasn't their method. But when it came to things like refusing a visit? That was off the table. And so, whether she liked it or not, Nova was forced to endure her brother's presence.
Not that he forced it, but that the Grey Rose Organization wanted him to monitor her movements, and understand her backers better. Dante saw an opportunity to improve his relationship with her, so he took it.
Once a month. Every month. For an entire year.
And in all that time, Dante hadn't uncovered a single piece of the truth.
The only progress he had made was this: she no longer tried to fight him or curse his name the moment he stepped through the cell door.
Now, she just sat there.
Silent. Detached. Bored.
As if waiting for him to finally give up and walk away.
But Dante couldn't bring himself to do it—to walk away from her.
Not again.
He stood on the edge of every visit with the same wish: to somehow make things right.
But deep down, he wasn't even sure if he deserved forgiveness, let alone a second chance. Every word felt like stepping through fog, unsure of where to go or how to bring her closer.
Still, he held on to the smallest of victories.
She wasn't violent anymore.
In the beginning, she'd lashed out at anyone who so much as glanced in her direction. If another inmate looked at her the wrong way, she'd leave them bruised and broken.
But now... she simply ignored it—so long as it didn't escalate.
Her temper hadn't vanished, but it was no longer a wildfire.
Bit by bit, she was learning how to breathe again.
And for Dante, that was enough to keep coming back.
He opened his mouth, trying to find the words—anything that might bridge the silence between them. But before a single sentence could escape, the world around them shifted.
The lights snapped off.
Darkness swallowed the room whole, thick and absolute.
A sharp click echoed through the cell as the heavy door locked itself shut.
Dante didn't panic. He'd been in worse situations before.
Without hesitation, he activated his Dark Sight. The shadows peeled back from his vision, revealing the cold contours of the prison cell.
His eyes went immediately to her.
Nova.
She hadn't flinched.
Even in the sudden plunge into darkness, she remained still—calm, alert. Her instincts were sharp, honed by something far rougher than prison life.
Without hesitation, she tapped into her story.
A soft, unseen shift in the air marked her activation—an ability that pierced through the black.
Their eyes met in the dark, two quiet lights in a room full of silence and tension.
"Don't make any sudden moves, Nova," Dante warned, his voice steady but low, his eyes locked on her through the dark.
Nova gave a slight nod, her expression shadowed—gloomy, indifferent, like the blackout barely registered in her mind.
Then, she spoke, her tone calm but laced with quiet bitterness. "I remember how easily you used to shut me down... back when I tried to fight you during those first few months."
Her eyes glinted faintly, not with threat, but resignation. "I get it. The gap between a C Ranker like me and the mighty A Ranker [Hiro Hunter]... It's massive."
She gave a hollow chuckle, then added, "So don't worry, Older Brother. I won't make any sudden moves."
Dante sighed and looked away.
He turned to the cell door, tested the handle—locked.
With a quiet grunt, he shook his head and scanned the room, but everything was in place. The layout hadn't changed. Only the lights—and everything else tied to the system—were dead.
It was... strange.
Power outages in prisons, even small ones like this facility in Third Town, were rare—practically unheard of. Especially with an S Ranker serving as the Warden. This wasn't a place where things like this just happened.
Frowning, Dante summoned his glowing blue Story System Interface, the light casting shadows across his face. His fingers moved quickly as he tapped through menus, opening a direct line to Jordan.
He sent the message.
Or tried to.
Nothing.
The message didn't go through.
He tried another channel. Then another. Still nothing. A chill crept down his spine.
'Hah… they hacked the Messaging Interface? That takes at least a B Ranked Hacker-Type Story… This wasn't random. It's planned…'
His gaze flicked toward the darkness around him.
'But who? And what's their goal—cutting power and locking down the interface in a prison... For what reason?'
...
Jordan had been talking with his little sister, casually joking with her while keeping a steady eye on the monitors that displayed Dante and Nova's conversation.
It was routine by now—dull, predictable.
Until suddenly, everything went black.
The lights overhead flickered once and died. The glow of the monitors vanished. The entire room was swallowed by darkness.
Jordan froze.
Not because he was afraid—but because he understood what this meant.
This wasn't a coincidence.
In all his years working at the facility, not once had the power gone out. Not during storms, not during riots. The systems were fortified beyond reason.
Which meant only one thing.
Someone did this.
Without hesitation, Jordan activated his Dark Sight. His vision adjusted instantly, casting the dark room in shades of spectral grey and blue. Beside him, Lavia stood, her stance sharp, alert. She activated her own vision a second later.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady.
"Not sure…" Jordan muttered, eyes already moving to the now-dead comms panel. "Let's try to contact the others first."
Lavia gave a firm nod and quickly summoned her Story System Interface. Jordan followed suit, both of them moving in sync, their faces lit faintly by the pale glow of their respective systems.
Their first attempt was to contact the Warden—nothing.
Then the elite guards stationed in the facility—still nothing. They expanded the range to contacts outside the prison.
Silence. No signal. No response.
A cold realization settled between them.
"Someone hacked the Messaging Interface," Lavia muttered through gritted teeth, her frustration clear. "That takes at least a B Ranker with a Hacker-type Story."
Jordan nodded grimly. "Yeah. This wasn't some amateur move."
He turned to her. "Let's try the Prison Messaging Interface."
Lavia nodded without a word.
The Story System contained multiple messaging layers, but most relied on the base Messaging Interface—the one everyone used by default.
The Prison Messaging Interface, however, was rarely accessed. It operated independently, buried deeper in the system, meant for internal emergencies.
And if this was anything, it was exactly that.
The first Player to ever breach the Messaging Interface had come from the Reader World.
Armed with knowledge foreign to the Story World, he crafted an Original Story centered entirely on hacking—no swords, no combat, just pure system manipulation.
It was an oddity back then, but he pushed it to the very limit, rising all the way to SSS Rank before he even attempted his first real hack.
And when he finally did, the entire Story System shook.
His success opened the floodgates.
One by one, other Players began crafting Stories rooted in digital infiltration and system control. Hacking became a viable specialization, not just a tool for criminals but a full-fledged path of power.
With time, as the threat grew, so did the countermeasures. New breeds of Players emerged—Story System Security Specialists. Experts in digital defense. Guardians of the code that held the world together.
And now, somewhere within this prison, one such hacker had struck again.
To use the Story System Messaging Interface, one had to be connected to the Story Field—an invisible network that stretched across the entire Story World like a living web of light and data.
It wasn't something you could touch, but it was always there, pulsing beneath the surface, connecting every Reciter, every Fragment, every Player.
Hackers didn't just break into systems—they corrupted the Field itself.
Whoever had struck now had done exactly that.
They'd severed this entire zone from the Story Field, cutting it off like a limb from a body. No signals, no data, no links to the outside. Everyone inside was locked out.
No Story System Messaging Interface.
No Blue Trade Records.
No global updates.
No warnings.
Nothing.
Whoever was behind this had just turned a part of the Story World into a black box.
This small prison, tucked away in Third Town, didn't have its own Story System Security Specialist. Hiring one of those elite professionals required an immense amount of high-quality Cores—far more than this facility could afford.
It simply wasn't worth the cost.
After all, this wasn't a high-profile prison. It didn't house dangerous S Rankers or infamous criminals. The inmates were mostly C Rankers, with maybe two or three B Rankers at best.
The likelihood of a hacker targeting this place was nearly nonexistent.
And even if someone did try, they'd have to get through the trained guards… and the S Ranked Warden.
That had always been enough.
Until today.
The Prison Messaging Interface didn't rely on the Story Field to connect Players—it functioned through a direct link activated by a Story.
In essence, it was an ability born from a Powerful Story Owner and distributed via the Story Books System.
Once granted access to this ability, a user could forge a chain—one that connected multiple stories together, allowing them to interact seamlessly across any distance.
Breaking that chain required significant skill; only high-tier hackers, with mastery over advanced hacking Stories, could even attempt such a feat.
And clearly, whoever had hacked the Story Field in this small prison wasn't one of them.
Because Jordan had just used the Prison Messaging Interface to send a message directly to the S Ranked Warden.
The downside of using the Prison Messaging Interface was its cost—it required Cores to activate. In contrast, the standard Story System Messaging Interface operated on a monthly subscription paid to the All Seeing Eye, granting users unlimited messaging privileges.
Put simply, with the Story System Messaging Interface, you paid once a month and could send as many messages as you wanted.
But the Prison Messaging Interface worked differently. Each message came at a price, calculated by the number of letters sent. And it wasn't a fee paid to anyone—it was the direct consumption of your own Cores, burned to fuel the ability.
This ability didn't just send a message—it linked one Story to another through raw power. Each word cost energy. Each sentence demanded sacrifice.
The message Jordan sent to the Warden was straightforward—what had happened, and why hadn't the emergency generator kicked in to provide backup power after the main system had been hacked?
The Warden's reply came swiftly.
The emergency generator's system had been compromised as well, hacked just like the main one. He was already en route to the generator's core chamber to activate it manually.
Ten more seconds, he said. That's all he needed.
Jordan read the message aloud so Lavia could hear. Just as he reached the end, a low hum echoed through the room. A second later, red lights flickered to life—dim and pulsating, casting the space in a blood-colored hue.
Power was back… but just barely.
Lavia's Interface flickered again. A message from the Warden.
"Is the power back on?"
She quickly typed a response. "Yes, but not at full capacity."
A few seconds passed before the next message came in.
"Figures. They didn't just hack the generators—they sabotaged the entire power routing system. Even the backup's barely functional."
Lavia's brow furrowed as she read the words aloud so Jordan could hear. "They hacked the power system too," she muttered. "The emergency generator's barely keeping the place alive."
Jordan clenched his jaw but said nothing.
Lavia typed again. "What should we do next?"
The reply came instantly. "Stay where you are. Don't leave the monitoring room. I'm sending one of the A Ranked guards your way now."
She looked at Jordan. "He's sending backup. Says not to move."
Jordan gave a quick nod.
He already knew there were only two A Rankers stationed here—this facility wasn't built for high-level threats. It was meant for C Rankers and below, with a few scattered B Rankers at most.
An A Rank guard showing up meant things were officially beyond normal.
"He says the guard's already on the way," Lavia added, glancing toward the door. "Should be here in about a minute."
While Lavia was busy reading the Warden's messages aloud, Jordan moved to the door of the monitoring room and tried the handle.
It didn't budge.
He frowned and tapped a few commands into his Story System Interface, trying to override the lock—no response. With a sigh, he pressed his hand against the metal, then gave the door a firm shove.
Nothing.
The entire prison had been constructed using A-Ranked materials designed to contain even the strongest mid-tier Players. For C Rankers like him and Lavia, brute-forcing their way out wasn't an option.
They were trapped.
He stepped back and exchanged a look with his sister. "We're not getting through that."
Lavia glanced up from the Interface, nodding grimly. "Let's just hope that A Rank guard gets here fast."
...
Dante stood motionless, his thoughts racing as he tried to piece together what had happened to the prison. The silence stretched. Five long minutes passed without a single change.
That was enough.
He exhaled quietly, then turned slightly, casting a glance toward Nova, who still sat unmoving in the dim emergency light.
Since he wasn't part of the official prison staff, he wasn't linked to Jordan or the other guards, and that meant he had no access to the Prison Messaging Interface.
But Dante had other methods—unofficial channels, Stories that allowed him to bypass standard communication locks.
They worked much like the Prison Messaging Interface, operating on direct Story-to-Story links, but they weren't tied to anyone inside the prison.
Only to trusted contacts on the outside.
Still, he hadn't used them. Not yet.
He didn't want to spark panic or draw attention too early, not before understanding the situation. For now, he would watch, wait, and analyze.
Dante turned toward Nova.
She sat still, eyes fixed on the floor, her entire posture radiating boredom as she waited in silence. He spoke, his tone calm but firm, drawing her attention.
"We're getting out of this room to see what's going on outside. You're coming with me. Don't try anything funny."
Nova lifted her gaze and gave a silent nod, offering no resistance, no emotion.
Dante approached the heavy door leading out. He'd felt it lock earlier, but he still tested it again just to be sure. As expected, it was sealed tight.
Reinforced with A-Ranked materials, it wouldn't budge through sheer force—especially not from him. He wasn't built for brute strength. Not primarily, anyway.
Dante exhaled slowly, the breath laced with resolve, and activated his Story — [Hiro Hunter].
He poured a single White Core into it.
In response, a magnificent rifle materialized in his hands — sleek, white, and adorned with glowing runes and intricate patterns carved along its frame like sacred inscriptions.
He raised the weapon with calm precision, its barrel locking onto the reinforced door ahead. No hesitation. Just purpose.
Bang!
The blast erupted like thunder in a storm.
In the very next instant, the door was obliterated — reduced to shrapnel and smoke, its remains hurled down the hallway outside the prison cell.
The sound echoed for a moment longer, like the tail of a roar from some great beast.
Nova didn't move.
She merely stared at the aftermath, a faint glint in her eyes betraying the quiet note of surprise — maybe even admiration — at the raw power behind the single shot.
Dante unsummoned the rifle in a shimmer of white light, the weapon dissolving into mist as if it had never existed.
He turned slowly to face Nova, his gaze heavy, lingering on her with a flicker of internal conflict. He seemed caught between thoughts, weighing a choice only he could understand.
Nova narrowed her eyes. "What?" she asked, her tone edged with irritation.
He didn't answer with words, just a quiet shake of his head. Then, with a swift motion, he summoned a pair of glowing white handcuffs — crafted from light, faintly humming with restrained power.
"Give me your hands."
She stared at him, unmoving for a few seconds.
Then, with a long sigh, she relented and held her wrists forward. The cuffs snapped into place with a faint pulse, and in that moment, her C-Ranked Story was silenced — severed.
In an instant, Nova was no longer a Player. No longer a danger. Just a normal woman.
Right now, even a lowly F Ranker wielding a mere Borrowed Story could kill her.
Dante stepped forward, the sound of his boots echoing faintly against the dark corridor. Behind him, Nova followed without a word, her footsteps light and cautious.
But they barely made it three steps beyond her cell before a sound cut through the stillness.
A soft, distorted crackle.
Dante stopped instantly, lifting a hand to signal Nova to halt. She obeyed without question.
From overhead, the prison's loudspeakers crackled again, now releasing a low hum. The hallway remained bathed in dim red emergency lights—just enough to see, but not enough to feel safe.
Dante figured the emergency generator had finally kicked in… but that wasn't what caught his attention.
It was the voice.
A tapping sound echoed from the loudspeakers, like someone testing a mic. Then came a voice—casual, amused, echoing through every corridor.
"Ahm, one two, one two, does everyone hear me? Haha! I'm not sure why I asked, not like I can hear you back or anything..."
A moment of silence passed. Then, the voice returned—amused, playful.
"Oh... I just found out that I actually can hear you. Alright, alright... Then answer me—can you all hear me?"
Dante didn't respond. Neither did Nova. They simply stood there, eyes fixed on the loudspeaker bolted into the ceiling above the hallway.
Shadows danced across their faces as the red emergency lights pulsed faintly.
Dante furrowed his brow. The voice—it was familiar.
Female, a little deep, but wrapped in an eerie sense of playfulness. He couldn't place it, but something about it unsettled him.
The voice continued, clearly enjoying itself.
"Fine, guess you're all deaf or something. Oh… some of you said yes. Guess that means you can. Alright, good."
The voice stopped for a second, letting the silence build a strange tension in the air.
Nova shifted slightly behind Dante, her cuffed hands falling to her sides, fingers curling and uncurling with muted restlessness.
Dante's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he listened—his stance stiffened.
Then the voice continued, unfazed and casual.
"Anyways, we have taken over this prison. Guards and Warden, don't try, it's useless. No one will come for your rescue, until we allow it. Prisoners... rejoice my friends, you have a chance to escape the prison... Yes yes, I know, happy and exciting... But... You can also die."
Dante didn't move, but the subtle shift in his gaze revealed a growing storm behind his eyes. Nova's expression flickered for a moment, unreadable, before she scoffed lightly under her breath, shaking her head once with a bitter smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I mean, think about it, some of the other prisoners aren't that nice, are they now? Anyways, if you wanna escape, I propose a game. Find the Key! Haha! I know, very simple. The game is like this... Beat every guard you come across to death and take their keys or cards or whatever they use to hold you in your cells."
Dante stared at the loudspeaker, mild interest flickering in his eyes, his expression unreadable, jaw still set. He didn't move, didn't speak—just listened, waiting for the voice to finish.
"Oh, it'll be like collecting points. If you successfully kill five guards, we'll let you go out. And Ranks don't matter, just the number of dead guards does."
His gaze remained fixed, unwavering, the red glow of the emergency lights painting sharp lines across his face.
"And... Hehe, don't worry guards, we're not gonna be unfair to you. If you successfully manage to put a prisoner back in their cell, we promise we won't open it for them again. The prisoners put back will stay there. See? Told you we're fair... now, let's start the game already!"
The final words echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the cold, reinforced walls.
Dante's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of thought passing through them as the silence returned like a held breath waiting to break.
And then... All the doors in the hallway from both sides opened at the same time.
—End of Chapter.
-------
Prison Break?
Gara: Wow... Dante, you better step up a bit, you've been too silent my dude, that might make the Readers not interested in... You know, reading about you!
Dante: Why are you still here? This is supposed to be my story, please leave.
Gara: Well... I mean... Is it though? It's called [Mysterious Prison]... You know... Lavia's Story Name?
Lavia: Gara!!!!! You're here? And you're defending me?
Gara left the chat.
Lavia: Huh? Did I imagine it, or was he really here?
Dante: You imagined it.
Jordan: Yup, you imagined it.