"Ladies and Gentlemen. Today we witness a battle between two fierce fighters!" A young man with black hair, green eyes, and an amiable smile declared in an energetic tone, his arms spread wide in a rather comical manner to entertain the gathered nobles.
The entire prison had been transformed, quite literally. It no longer looked like a prison, but an arena. From raised platforms, nobles watched with amused smiles, some looking overly excited while others remained cold and composed, trying to preserve their dignity even as they hungered for a fight and blood.
"Who will emerge victorious? Bone-Breaker, a formidable fighter who's always chasing challenges?" The man laughed, pointing at the muscular fighter with a greedy, bloodthirsty grin. The man was towering, almost reaching two meters in height, his head shaved smooth and reflecting the light like polished steel.
Then, Herald took a step back, his relaxed hand uncurling as his fingers gestured toward the other fighter. "Or would it be this boy, rotting in prison yet yearning for the raging storm of the Lord!? Meeeeet.... Li'l Sam!"
"I hate that fucking name..." Sam muttered under his breath, grimacing as he heard Herald announce his nickname.
"Well... it's funny, though." Yuri chuckled, patting his shoulder with a sympathetic smile.
Sam sighed, not knowing what to say. Seriously? Li'l Sam? Was that the best he could do? Like, couldn't they have chosen something more creative and cool? I'm so disappointed in Herald's naming sense.
"Okay, relax now. What's done is done." Yuri shook his head helplessly, a amused smile curling on his face as he lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke.
"Huh? Where did you find that?" Sam blinked, leaning forward with scrutinizing eyes.
"Hmm? Well, as your teacher, I have some benefits." Yuri shrugged, leaning against the wall.
Sam clicked his tongue, throwing his arms in the air from exasperation. But his irritated look quickly disappeared, replaced by a greedy smile as he clasped his hands like a con artist and spoke in an amiable tone. "I was always curious what kind of feeling a guy gets from smoking. Why don't you let me try?"
Yuri raised an eyebrow, then flicked his forehead with a disapproving look. "How many times should I tell you not to touch alcohol or drugs? You're still a child, so stop ruining your health."
Sam groaned, his hands falling in disappointment. Why's he always treating me like I'm a brat? So beating up people and killing them is fine, but smoking and drinking isn't? That doesn't make sense.
Sam massaged his neck, sinking into his chair while Yuri observed him, his gaze deep and thoughtful. Then, he relaxed his tense expression and said with a warm smile. "You're a good child, Sam."
"Huh? Where did that come from?" Sam looked up, blinking in surprise.
"Maybe I'm feeling a bit emotional now that we're actually here, doing this..." Yuri scratched the back of his head, his lips curling into a wry smile. "Listen well... I know you don't have anyone... But when we're out of here, whatever happens... just find someone you would love. Be it a lover, friend, mentor, partner or anyone who would stand by your side. Life without love is miserable, Sam."
Sam stared at Yuri for some time, his face blank and confused. Then, a wide smile found its way onto his face as he offered Yuri his fist. "Meh, what now? Getting too old and nostalgic? Hahaha, why would I find someone else? I already have you."
Yuri frowned, touching his beard, his eyes dimming with memories. But he quickly shook his head, bumping Sam's fist with his own while smiling with pride. He looked like an uncle seeing his nephew growing up and taking care of him now that he was big. "That's right. We will escape from this shithole."
Sam nodded, a relieved sigh escaping his lips. For a moment, he'd felt almost scared. As if Yuri was planning to die. Meh, talk about raising flags, why's he always like that? Still, the only danger we have to face is in this prison. After we escape, we'll be safe.
But Sam's relief was cut short when he recalled an interesting detail about their plan. He pulled his pitch-black hair back, streaked with gold, and looked at Yuri. "It's time. Diego already took care of the job after he read my letter, so it must be working by now."
He spoke calmly, staring at the guards and the warden, who was trying to act eloquent, sharing pleasantries with the nobility.
But there was another interesting factor that was noticeable, if barely. The guards were relaxed, even a little exhausted. As if they hadn't gotten good sleep the night before. They were whispering to each other, finding the situation a bit strange, but since it didn't seem serious, they shrugged it off and continued their duty. They would have seen a doctor if it was a normal day, but sadly for them, it wasn't. Today, they absolutely had to make sure the nobles were safe and satisfied.
Seeing this, Yuri nodded, crossing his arms as he threw his cigarette butt on the stone floor and crushed it under his boot. "Looks like you were right."
Sam nodded, glancing at the slightly shaking pipes. Before, water was pumped manually, but after Emperor Roselle, a steam pump system was built. An iron pipe network fed the cells, kitchens, infirmary, guard areas, and so on.
The Emperor was really amazing, making life so easy and comfortable. Truly, he was The Son of Steam.
But alas, that also meant there were many loopholes that could be exploited in such a crude system.
The Lord's Angel of Time teaches us that every rule has a loophole. Everything is imperfect. A flawless world would stagnate. Error is the catalyst of progress and evolution. If I'm successful and escape, then the Loen Kingdom will be able to find the problem and inevitably fix it. In other words, me exploiting a loophole is equivalent to that loophole no longer existing. Sam thought, touching his chin as he recalled the teachings of His Lord's Angel.
"Yeah, Diego works there and is forced to shovel coal into the boilers daily. So he managed to accomplish the task. Though he noted that he almost got caught by a guard." Sam explained the situation to Yuri calmly.
"Not bad... And what does he get in return? Can we really trust him?" Yuri narrowed his eye. If that guy asked for something outrageous or betrayed them, then he would kill him.
"Nothing much, really. Just that he's tagging along when we escape. He's already in the infirmary, waiting for me. And yeah, we can trust him. He's not as radical as others from the Balam colonies. Besides that, he has a girl waiting for him, so he can't spend twenty years in prison. I already told you, I have good eyes and can see if a person is trustworthy or not. It's my Lord's gift." Sam said with a smirk, pointing at his golden eyes, but then froze, his expression growing blank and displeased. I feel like a middle child waiting after school, knowing no one will come... Damn.
He sighed, shaking his head. His voice was low and rough, speaking slowly and casually. If you judged him just on his voice, you would think he'd been smoking for decades, even though he wasn't even two decades old. That's how deep it was. Besides that, he sounded too lazy and unbothered, as if he didn't care about anything. Sam rarely raised his voice, too. Yuri had only seen him do that twice, and each time, he'd been fighting.
Though, deep down, Yuri knew that Sam cared about a lot of things. He smiled, recalling how positive Sam could be, but with those memories also came flashbacks of Sam's zealous behavior, and he instantly grimaced, spitting in displeasure. Sometimes, Sam was disturbing, as if he'd been brainwashed, but Yuri couldn't exactly blame the kid for it. His only hope and motivation for living came from his so-called almighty god.
Yuri rubbed his eyes, staring at Sam, who was casually picking at his ear, lost in thought.
He should fit in easily. After we escape, I'll introduce him to them. At least with like-minded people, he won't feel alone. No child should live such a bleak and lonely life. Yuri nodded to himself, smiling faintly, and opened his mouth. But before he could say anything, guards came in.
"Number 87, it's time. Follow me." One of them ordered Sam, his expression twisted with disdain as he spat at him. It was clear that not every guard was like the young man who'd been cheering for Sam. Almost all of them looked at prisoners with disgust, as if they were irredeemable beasts that couldn't be reformed. In some way, they were correct. Criminals rarely took a step back and abandoned the life of crime.
After all... What's more thrilling and enjoyable than breaking rules? Sam thought with a smile, wiping the spit from his cheek and then cleaning his hand on his pants.
Meanwhile, Yuri's eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing as he clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened, his veins bulging along his forearm as his expression darkened with displeasure and derision. But he remained rooted in place, knowing he had to control himself.
Then the guard glanced at Yuri with equal disdain, but before he could mock or insult him, he noticed Yuri's murderous gaze and paused, flinching for some reason. He avoided Yuri's eyes, baffled by his own actions, wondering why he felt scared of a mere 'Prisoner'. Then, after composing himself, he coughed and ordered awkwardly, "Number 13, it's time for you to return."
Yuri stared at him for a few seconds, thinking how easy it would be to kill these imbeciles. Still, he had to control himself. Don't indulge yourself in evil desires... Not now. He thought to himself, taking a deep breath and finally relaxing, nodding at them.
Seeing him obedient, one of the guards sighed in relief, pulling out menacles and restraining Yuri with them.
Yuri willingly followed, a dark smile appearing on his face as he watched the guard in front of him. Another guard followed from behind.
After a few seconds, he looked back, noticing Sam already entering the ring and preparing to fight against BoneBreaker, or whatever that idiot called himself.
The moment he left the arena behind and entered the dark hall, the air became biting cold, droplets falling from stone walls as oppressive darkness fell upon them, suffocating and revolting.
Walking through the hall filled with slithering shadows, Yuri closed his eyes, trying to calm his beating heart and prepare for what he needed to do.
The mind is a prisoner of the body, and the body is a prisoner of the world. He told himself, opening his eyes to welcome the shroud of shadows that enveloped him.
His body was a prisoner of this place... It was time to get rid of that.
He clenched his fists, looking down. He could still hear the loud cheers and Herald shouting, trying to make the fight more entertaining. It was really loud.
But then he frowned, hearing the echo of footsteps from the other end of the hall. Looking up, he saw two guards walking toward them, holding a lamp. They were yawning, exhibiting the same traits of exhaustion and sleep deprivation as the other guards.
As they got close, the guards escorting Yuri stopped, looking at them and grinning. They shook hands, talking about how they were and why they felt so exhausted. One of them noted the doctor saying it might be a disease, even. That made them a bit worried, but since nothing drastic had happened yet, they could only endure it for today.
Usually, they weren't allowed to talk while on duty. But no one really cared, that was only on paper. Still, the Warden had warned them to keep it short.
Really, it sometimes lasted only a few seconds. But those few seconds were enough for Yuri. He uncurled his index finger and swallowed it. He felt his saliva wetting his finger as it went deep into his throat, and soon he started gagging.
But because of the loud noise from the arena and the distraction brought by the other guards, they didn't pay him much attention.
They only noticed something was wrong when Yuri coughed and something landed in his palm. It was nothing but a curled spoon, shaped like a ball, which Yuri quickly straightened while snapping his own wrist to free his hand from the manacles.
"Hey, Number 13? What's wrong?" One of them asked slowly, recalling his aggressive behavior as he took out a baton, just in case. Better safe than sorry.
But what met him wasn't an answer. It was a spoon piercing his left eye. His right eye widened in disbelief and shock as blood started flowing down his cheek like a tear, and then he fell to his knees, only for Yuri's boot to slam into his face, driving the spoon deeper into his head and killing him.
Guards usually worked in pairs. You would never find any of them alone. So right now, he had to deal with the other three guards who'd noticed something was wrong. The other pair's appearance was a surprise, and not a pleasant one. But Yuri could manage with his enhanced physique and senses. Not to mention, they had only batons, not revolvers.
A young man, the dead man's partner, noticed it quickly and dashed toward Yuri with his baton raised high.
Yuri sidestepped, his movements fluid and agile, calmly observing the guard as he fixed his broken wrist.
Another guard, seeing this might become problematic, told his partner grimly, "Go and alert the others. We won't be able to restrain him."
He nodded, rushing back toward the arena with determination.
Meanwhile, Yuri closed the distance. He caught his opponent's arm mid-swing, then drove his fist into the elbow joint. The crack echoed through the hall. The guard screamed, his arm bending at an unnatural angle as the baton fell from his hand.
Yuri snatched the falling weapon. His grip tightened and swung.
The first strike shattered the guard's nose, cartilage crunching, blood exploding across his face. The second blow caught his jaw, teeth flying as bone gave way with a wet snap. The guard's scream turned into a gurgling choke. The third strike crushed his skull with a sickening crunch. Brain matter and blood sprayed against the wall as the body crumpled, twitching.
Without wasting a second, Yuri looked up. The fleeing guard was already halfway down the hall, his partner covering the retreat.
Cursing under his breath, Yuri charged forward, raising his baton in a striking position. The remaining guard braced himself, ready to defend and buy time.
But Yuri didn't strike.
He hurled the baton. It spun through the air and cracked into the guard's face with a wet thud. The man staggered back, blood streaming from his broken nose.
Yuri dropped into a slide, his body gliding across the blood-slicked stone floor beneath his opponent's wild swing. He shot past, boots finding purchase as he launched himself forward.
The fleeing guard heard the footsteps behind him. He glanced back, eyes wide with terror as Yuri leaped.
His full weight crashed into the guard's back, driving him face-first into the stone. Before the guard could recover, Yuri's elbow slammed down into the back of his neck, his strike precise and brutal, just as Sam had taught him.
Yuri coiled around him like a serpent, arms slithering into position as his hands found the guard's head. With a single, sharp twist, the body went slack, neck bent at an grotesque angle.
While he taught Sam his fighting style and the knowledge given by the Prisoner pathway, Sam taught him how to fight effectively as well, how to deal maximum damage with minimum effort. He'd called it "mixed martial arts," talked about how adaptable and versatile it was. Yuri couldn't exactly understand all of it, but he had to agree with Sam's assessment.
Only one guard was left, barely standing, his face bloody and eyes disorientated. He looked at Yuri, then glanced behind, at the path where he came from and cursed under his breath. He couldn't notify anyone, the noise from the arena would swallow even his screams. And while there was a path to escape, it didn't matter. He knew he would end up the same way as his partners.
Their corpses lay scattered across the hall, blood pooling on the stone, seeping into the cracks.
So he did the only thing he could do. He picked up his baton and charged forward.
Yuri stared at him calmly, sighing in his heart. The guard's face was twisted with desperate courage, the kind of courage that came from accepting death.
"You're brave. I'll give you that," Yuri said in a melancholic tone.
The guard swung his baton, but Yuri deflected it and kicked him in the diaphragm. Then, he raised his baton like a hammer, smashing the man's face with brutal force. The skull fractured on impact. Blood and fragments of bone sprayed sideways. The guard's eyes rolled back, his body seizing for a moment before collapsing like the others.
The hall fell into silence. The only sound that could be heard was the loud shouts from the arena. Staring at the corpses, Yuri shook his head. They were really smart and brave, he thought, his chest rising and falling as he wiped blood from his face.
Then, he quickly grabbed the bodies and started hiding them in a storeroom. At the same time, he took the guard's uniform from the first man he'd killed. It wasn't drenched in blood, unlike the others. That was one of the reasons why he'd used the spoon. It was for both a surprise attack and to make sure he killed the guard quickly, without dirtying the clothes with blood.
Stepping out of the storeroom, he glanced at the pool of blood on the stone floor, then grabbed a bucket filled with water and washed it away. It wasn't exactly hidden, but in the darkness, if the guards didn't pay attention to their environment, then they wouldn't notice.
That was one of the reasons Sam had made such a plan. After all... exhausted guards wouldn't notice blood easily.
Composing himself, Yuri put the hat on his head, walking calmly until he eventually found himself in front of a door.
Taking a deep breath, he hid his baton behind his back and knocked on the door twice like guards were used to doing. Then, he took a step back and waited for a few seconds... which became an entire minute.
Yuri frowned, tilting his head, and knocked again, waiting for permission, but no one answered.
Seeing this, his expression darkened. The silence around him felt even more oppressive and disturbing now as he gulped and used an iron wire to open the door.
Stepping inside, he tightened his grip on his baton and looked around... only to find nothing. The room was empty.
"What the..." Yuri's eyes widened in disbelief and horror as his hardened expression crumbled into anxiety. His blood ran cold as color drained from his face.
"Shit... Where's the Savant?"
***
[A/N: Raphael_Scorpio, how's the fight now? I thought about your advice and tried to add effects to the combat. Ngl, I like it.
Well, it looks like the prison break is starting. I tried to make it as realistic as possible so our guys can escape without relying on the fiend commonly known as plot armor. Tell me what you think about it.
That's it for now. Enjoy the meal, guys.]
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