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Chapter 6 - The Button and the Storm

Before their eyes stretched a vast chamber, its walls lined with countless small cells sealed behind iron bars. Behind those bars, a sea of gaunt figures shifted and stirred—dozens, perhaps hundreds, all separated into their own narrow confinements.

Cesar climbed a narrow ledge to peer through the slit in the wall, hoping for a clearer view of what lay within.

"Prisons…?" he muttered, stunned.

"Cesar…" Lefelob's voice was quiet but firm. "Step aside. I'll open a way."

He drew his sword and struck with precision at a deep crack near the slit. The blade carved through stone with a sharp echo, widening the fracture until it formed a jagged passage just large enough to pass through. They slipped in, reaching the second floor.

Moving carefully, they hugged the shadows, ducking behind a crumbling wall when a pair of guards wandered past. Strangely, the sentries appeared calm—unaware, it seemed, of the chaos unfolding below.

Lefelob leaned forward to scout the corridor. Cesar, meanwhile, remained still, his gaze drawn to the prisoners nearby.

Their faces were hollow, skeletal things. Their skin sagged in folds, drained of life. Wrinkles carved deep into their features, aging them beyond their years. A heavy silence hung in the air—thick with the weight of abandonment.

Then, a whisper.

"Hey… you…"

The voice was faint, brittle, like dry leaves scraping stone. Cesar turned. A prisoner in the nearest cell had pulled himself close to the bars, his eyes sunken but pleading.

"Please… free me…" he rasped. His voice was barely more than a breath, the sound of someone long surrendered to despair.

Cesar hesitated, trying to look away—but the man kept whispering.

"I can't breathe this gas anymore… every day… all day… it never stops…"

Gas? Cesar flinched at the word. He tried to shake it off, to push the thought from his mind—but something cold and pitying had taken root in his chest.

Lefelob had noticed. He stepped closer.

"Be quiet," he whispered. "We'll come back. We'll free you all."

But his words, though sincere, felt heavy with sorrow. Around them, the air itself seemed to groan under the weight of despair. The guards still loomed further ahead, unaware for now. And yet, the silence was cracking.

The prisoners had seen them—two figures not clad in uniform, not bowed in defeat. And something long-dead within them had stirred.

Lefelob glanced around, eyes sharp, searching for any sign of a hidden passage.

"Cesar, do you see anything—any way through?"

Cesar stood frozen. The memory of those people—hollowed out, reduced to little more than walking corpses—gnawed at his mind. The guards had been standing there in eerie stillness, serene, almost unaware of the torment flickering behind their empty stares.

It wasn't until Lefelob repeated the question that Cesar finally managed a reply.

"Uh… no. Just more cells. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds…"

"Come," Lefelob said. "Follow me."

A prisoner nearby lowered his head, his face blank, drained of all emotion.

"We'll come back for you. All of you," Lefelob added, sensing the flicker of disappointment in the man's eyes. "Somehow…"

They were all the same—every single one of them. Those corridors were a monument to despair—forgotten lives, suffering, and silence.

Two long, dreadful minutes passed before they came across a room that stood out from the rest.

"Do you see anything inside?" Cesar asked.

The door was shut. Locked. Impenetrable.

Then—the sound of footsteps.

"Cesar—here!" Lefelob hissed, pulling him behind a nearby wall.

Guards.

They watched in silence as the soldiers approached the locked door, unlocked it, and left it ajar. No alarm. No raised voices. Had news of the intruders not yet reached this floor? Lefelob wondered.

"There are only three of them," he murmured. "I can take them. It won't be difficult…"

Cesar said nothing.

His silence, to Lefelob, was agreement. But in truth, it was only fear.

Lefelob leapt from the shadows, striking without hesitation. His movements were sharp—too fast for the unprepared guards. Taken by surprise, the three of them never stood a chance.

One lunged at him with a clumsy punch—Lefelob ducked and struck the man at the base of the skull. He dropped instantly. The second received a swift kick to the face and collapsed, unconscious. The third tried to scream, but Lefelob silenced her with a hand over her mouth, pushing her toward a nearby control panel.

He gestured for silence, eyes narrowed.

"Tell me how to access the third—"

He hesitated, the image of those broken prisoners flashing through his mind. It clawed at his conscience. There was no other choice. His soul demanded their freedom.

"Open the cells," he said firmly.

The guard didn't resist. No struggle, no attempt to flee. She knew she was no match for him. Slowly, she approached the control panel, her trembling hand hovering over a large, mechanical button.

"Then… you won't hurt me, right?" she asked in a low voice.

Lefelob gave a small, silent nod. That was all the reassurance she needed. She pressed the button.

And then… she laughed.

Lefelob's brow furrowed. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice darkening.

The guard said nothing.

A deafening alarm blared, echoing violently through the corridors.

"I'm sorry," she said, a twisted grin spreading across her face—equal parts fear and defiance. "But I couldn't let you…"

Lefelob shoved her aside, fury rising like fire in his chest. He turned to the panel, slamming buttons one after another, the heat from the machine scorching his skin.

"Cesar! Help me!" he shouted.

Cesar stood frozen. Until now, Lefelob had been a symbol of calm and control—but now, even he looked terrified. And that terrified Cesar.

It was too late. The alarm had already triggered a full lockdown. Guards on the current floor and below had been alerted. They were coming.

The air was thick with noise, sirens howling like mechanical banshees. Amid the chaos, Lefelob spotted a large, heavy button—one that stood out from the rest.

"Cesar! Help me push this!" he yelled over the noise.

Cesar didn't move.

"Cesar!"

At last, fear propelled him forward. He ran to Lefelob, and together, with all the strength panic could muster, they forced the button down.

Click.

A new sound tore through the corridors—metal grinding, locks disengaging. One by one, the cell doors opened.

The prisoners spilled out. Pale. Weak. Hollow-eyed. They moved not with purpose, but instinct—staggering forward like the undead, driven by the sheer will to escape.

Chaos erupted.

The prison was no longer under control.

[•••]

"Shit…" Lefelob muttered under his breath.

It probably wasn't enough—but there was no time to think. He and Cesar sprinted down the corridor at breakneck speed.

The guards on the floor were in complete disarray. The prisoners, though frail and barely standing, moved in waves. There were too many. Their hunger for freedom burned brighter than the pain that wracked their bodies.

"Find the intruders!" shouted a voice—likely one of the commanding officer.

Chaos reigned.

The alarm kept screaming, a shrill, inhuman wail that rattled the walls and pierced the mind. Some guards clutched their ears, staggering in disorientation. The sharp cracks of gunfire rang out, echoing through the labyrinthine halls.

And still, the prisoners ran—awkward, staggering, but determined.

Amid the madness, Lefelob and Cesar dove behind a shattered wall. Running had become pointless. The tide had overtaken them.

"Lefelob…" Cesar began, his voice barely audible.

Lefelob didn't hear him. The noise was too loud—relentless.

Cesar grabbed his hand, pulling him toward a small maintenance tunnel in the wall. It was narrow, half-collapsed, but it gave them a moment's shelter—a fragile pocket of silence amid the storm.

"We have to surrender," Cesar said at last, breathless.

Lefelob stood frozen. He knew this tunnel wouldn't protect them for long. The uprising he had helped start was devouring itself. He lowered his head in silence.

Maybe Cesar is right... Maybe this is the end.

But beyond that narrow tunnel, in the blackened ruins of her cell, she remained still.

Her head bowed. A slow, subtle grin creeping across her face.

"Finally… free," she whispered.

Cesar and Lefelob were teetering on the edge of surrender. Their hope, their will—it was cracking, ready to break.

And at that same moment, she stepped out of her cell.

She did not stumble like the others. She walked with purpose. Her posture was proud. Her eyes were sharp. Unlike the rest, her body showed little weakness—dirtied only by the dust of a crumbling prison, not years of suffering.

Her emergence from the shadows, and the moment Cesar and Lefelob stepped out of the tunnel with their hands half-raised—happened at the exact same time.

Lefelob raised his arms high, ready to give in.

Cesar hesitated, mimicking him—until a sudden wave of force crashed down the corridor.

An immense, invisible pressure—like a storm without wind—swept through the hall.

Everyone in its path—guards, prisoners, even Lefelob and Cesar—were thrown to the ground, stunned and gasping for breath.

She smiled.

Eyes half-lidded, she looked down at her open palms.

"Finally… I'm not breathing that damned gas anymore."

Around her, the guards staggered, still disoriented by the chaos. The prisoners, though emaciated and barely able to stand, scrambled to their feet. Driven by the raw, aching need for freedom, they bolted in every direction like startled animals, directionless but unstoppable.

A general's voice rang out above the din.

"Someone—call for reinforcements! Get backup from outside!"

But even as the order was given, those who should have obeyed hesitated. They could all feel it—something had shifted. Something irreversible.

And then they turned on her. All the guards remaining on that floor—desperate to regain control—rushed toward the girl.

She didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry…" she said, her voice calm, cold, amused. "But there's no gas left to suppress my powers."

Her right arm began to morph—growing, distorting, stretching until it became grotesquely massive. Veins pulsed beneath the skin, glowing faintly with some internal energy. It became a giant, monstrous hand.

She swung it once.

The air cracked with the force of it.

The slap struck with cataclysmic impact, crushing guards and walls alike. The corridor groaned and split as the side walls collapsed under the pressure. Stone and metal exploded outward.

Cesar and Lefelob barely dove into the narrow maintenance tunnel in time, the shockwave chasing them like a beast. Dust and debris roared past them.

Lefelob blinked through the dust, heart pounding.

"But… what…" he whispered.

He had never seen power like that. Not raw strength. Not rage. Just control.

And somewhere deep inside him, awe mingled with fear.

Outside the tunnel, the general—the same one who'd shouted the order—stood frozen, unable to act. And then he was gone—torn apart like paper in a storm.

The same fate consumed the rest—those unlucky enough to still be standing near the girl, near the crumbling remains of the corridor.

But she didn't stop there.

With a swift motion, she crouched—then leapt forward. In mid-air, her left leg expanded, just like her arm had. It crashed down with thunderous force onto the remaining guards, flattening them with a single blow.

Silence began to creep back in—just barely—through the ringing aftermath.

She straightened slowly, exhaled, then turned her gaze toward the tunnel.

Her expression softened—not with kindness, but with recognition.

Cesar and Lefelob, barely catching their breath, raised their hands in surrender.

The girl giggled.

"It was you, wasn't it?" she said with a sly smile.

They didn't answer. Couldn't. They were still staring—stunned, breathless, as if they had just witnessed the birth of a god.

And then—

The alarms stopped. And for a brief, suffocating moment… There was only silence.

[•••]

The guards downstairs, meanwhile, were ordered to remain stationary. They had been warned of the danger of the second floor.

"Is the situation outside settled? Were those invaders captured??" one of the generals on the first floor asked.

"No... The hero is still battling what appears to be the leader of that group... " replied a guard, worried.

"Shit!! We need help right now!!" the general exclaimed, clapping his hand on the nearby wall.

The second floor had been completely cleared.

The bodies of the guards lay still, silent. The prisoners, though free, continued to wander the broken halls like ghosts, dazed and directionless. Freedom had come, but the weight of it hadn't yet settled in their bones.

Cesar and Lefelob approached the girl cautiously. They didn't know who she was—not fully—but something about her was undeniable—safety, reliability, kindness.

"Thank you…" was all Lefelob could manage.

"Hm?" she said, glancing back with a smile. "I should be the one thanking you—you freed me!"

She gave a light, playful laugh. "How'd you even manage to shut down the gas and open all the cells? What are you—runaway guards having second thoughts?"

"No, we're not guards," Lefelob said, still shaken. "We just got here. Found a button… pressed it. That's all..."

Her smile widened. She looked down again at her palms, as if marveling at her own skin.

"Now that I have access to my powers again… I can finally have my revenge…" she murmured.

She didn't say who the revenge was for — and somehow, that made it even more unsettling. She didn't need to say it—there was something in her voice that made it clear: it was personal. Deep.

Cesar, unable to stop himself, took a step closer.

"But why?" he asked. "Why would someone like you… with that kind of power… be locked in here?"

She didn't look at him.

"It was the gas," she said simply. "It shut everything down. All of it. With it… I was just a prisoner like others."

She turned from them, walked toward a blank section of the wall—no doors, no buttons—just stone. Without pause, she enlarged her right hand again and, with one effortless swing, obliterated the wall. Dust filled the air, and behind the rubble, a staircase revealed itself, winding into darkness.

She stepped toward it, but Lefelob called out.

"Wait!"

She stopped.

For the first time, she turned and truly looked at them—really looked. Her eyes scanned their faces, reading them like pages.

"What is it?" she asked, calm now, polite even.

Lefelob hesitated, then asked, "Who are you… really?"

It was the same question Cesar had asked him before. Now it was Lefelob asking—not out of curiosity, but from something deeper. Need.

She smiled again. No more mischief in it this time—only the hint of a scar from some long-forgotten wound.

"Me?" she said. "Name's Toloméa. Pleased to meet you."

She paused, then added:

"Former fighter for the Kormany Government."

Lefelob's breath caught.

The Kormanys.

The very name churned his blood. The ones who held the world in their grasp, ruling with cruelty and control. And now—here stood one of them. Or at least… one who used to be.

Why had they locked her away? Had she rebelled? Too many questions. Not enough answers. And yet… he knew. This was the turning point—of the battle for the castle—of their mission.

And maybe—just maybe—of a deeper truth waiting to be unearthed.

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