The problem was simple. The solution was not.
I can't break the barrier. I can't take the prisoner out. So the only option left is changing the runes.
Mirabel stood beside me, her eyes scanning the green glow of the Sculptie barrier.
Altering the primordial ones takes a long time. The previous barrier had only one rune movement. But to change this… multiple movements are required.
Therefore, we must change the mordial ones—that's the sub-formula.
The knowledge came from the hidden library, from a book on barrier construction I had memorized years ago. According to that book, to change a barrier's characteristics, we must first alter the mordial runes, then the primordials. The primordial runes were the foundation, the core identity of the barrier. Changing them required hours of careful work.
But the mordial runes, the supporting structures and secondary formulas, could be adjusted more quickly. They would temporarily alter the barrier's behavior without completely rebuilding it. However, if we didn't also change the primordial runes afterward, the barrier would eventually revert to its original state, though evidence of tampering with the mordial would remain.
An expert will notice someone has tampered with the barrier, but it doesn't matter. Once the prisoner was out and we were gone, it didn't matter if the Church knew someone had interfered. They would have bigger problems soon. There was no reason to hide it.
I don't have much time, so we'll only tweak the mordial ones and remove the prisoner quickly.
"What are you thinking?" Mirabel asked.
"We have to change the runes. That's the only way we can get this prisoner out."
I pointed to the glowing symbols that ringed the barrier's edge. I started giving instructions on which rune to change and where. My photographic memory recalled every diagram, every notation from that obscure text. Mirabel's fingers moved with precision, adjusting each rune in sequence.
After ten minutes, the change was done.
The green barrier flickered, its color shifting slightly, a deeper emerald, then back. For a moment, it seemed to hold its breath. Then the change settled.
Now the barrier allowed Aether to flow in.
I tested it with my hand. The surface was still viscous, still resistant to impact, but when I pushed gently, it parted. More importantly, when Mirabel reached out, her Aetheric presence didn't trigger the solidification. The barrier accepted her.
Mirabel went in and carried the prisoner out.
The figure in her arms was smaller than I expected. Delicate. As she emerged through the barrier, the green light parted around them both, and I saw—
It was a girl. With long red hair and a beautiful face.
Young. Perhaps my age, perhaps two or three years older. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow, but even in exhaustion, there was something striking about her features. Noble blood, clearly.
"Thank you," she said, her voice weak.
"Why did you say it was a male?" I asked.
Mirabel's expression flickered with embarrassment. "I couldn't see," she answered. Through the barrier, through the distortion, she had assumed.
"Let me check the situation of the battle above. I'll leave the prisoners to you."
I didn't wait for a response. The girl was Mirabel's responsibility now. I had more pressing concerns.
I marched toward the battle.
—
After a few minutes, I reached the edge and quickly looked outside.
The scene before me was destruction given form. The small clearing outside the prison entrance had been transformed into a war zone. Trees were uprooted, their trunks splintered. The ground was churned to mud, scored with deep gouges that looked like claw marks. And in the center of it all—
Cinder and the bald man, standing near the dead body of the strong one.
As I walked toward the body, I could see the remains of the fight. He lay motionless, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. His throat had been opened by a precise cut, and his chest bore the mark of multiple strikes. Around him, the evidence of his power was everywhere: frozen spikes of ice protruding from the ground, areas of scorched earth where water had been superheated to steam, deep gashes where pressurized jets had carved through stone. Large sword strikes marked the earth. Trees had been uprooted. The environment was destroyed.
I stood at the edge of it all, trying to comprehend the scale. This was what real power looked like. Not my carefully honed physical techniques, not my strategic mind, but raw, unleashed Aether. Two people had fought here, and the land itself would bear the scars for years. So this is how powerful people change the environment when they fight.
They really are veterans.
Cinder looked up as I approached, a grim smile on his face. Roran stood beside him, breathing hard but unharmed. Together, they had defeated a powerful Aether-user who should have been more than a match for either of them alone.
"You're here. Is that prisoner rescued?" Cinder asked.
"Yes. Now we just have to take all the prisoners outside. But since you have Aether, it should be simple. My job is done."
Both Cinder and the bald man rushed down. They moved past me without another word, heading to help with the evacuation.
Abruptly, my heart trembled… and my head hurt.
What the hell?
The world spun. My vision blurred. Three years of pushing my body to its absolute limits, hours of running and fighting without rest, without proper food, without a single moment of true relaxation, it had all caught up at once. I had pushed myself too hard, and now my body was finally demanding its due.
I laid down on the grass that hadn't been destroyed by the fight.
The ground was cool beneath me, soft with moss and evening dew. Above, the twin moons hung in the lavender sky, their light washing over me like a gentle tide.
I breathed heavily.
I tried to grab the moon with my hands, the soft moonlight plummeting onto me.
My fingers traced empty air, reaching for something I could never touch. It didn't matter. The simple act of lying here, of feeling the grass against my back, of breathing air that wasn't stale prison atmosphere, it was enough.
It's been so long since I rested like this.
Fresh air. Moonlight. It's so soothing.
My eyes grew heavy. The sounds of the prison faded, the distant shouts, the running feet, the echoes of battle. All replaced by the whisper of wind through trees, the rustle of leaves, the gentle rhythm of my own breathing.
I took a quick nap for an hour.
---
By the time I opened my eyes, all the prisoners were out.
The clearing had transformed. Where before there had been only death and destruction, now there was life, dozens of people, standing or sitting in groups, their faces turned toward the moons, toward the sky, toward freedom they hadn't seen in years. Some wept. Some laughed. Most just stared, as if unable to believe the world still existed.
I stood up, feeling light as a feather. The rest had helped a lot.
The prisoners were all in one line. Not a military formation, but a loose gathering, waiting for direction, for purpose, for someone to tell them what came next.
I went to Cinder. "Where are you going to take them?"
Cinder turned to me, his expression serious. "We're going to ask a House for help."
I answered, "The war is about to start. We need to take rehabilitation in House Theodore."
"What war? When? How?" Cinder asked anxiously.
"War between the Church, Mareux, and House Theodore. It's going to happen soon." I answered.
"How do you know this?"
I explained. Not everything, I couldn't tell them about the superior dragon, about how that bastard used me. He would likely kill anyone who knew the truth. But I told them enough. The Church's attack on me, destroying my Aether. The letters I had sent to my sisters. The inevitable conflict that would follow when those letters were decoded.
"First, let's move to House Theodore. But… first… make me bald. This golden hair makes it too easy to recognize me."
"Got it."
Cinder nodded. The hair was a beacon, a mark of House Theodore that would draw attention everywhere I went. If I wanted to disappear, it had to go.
Cinder grabbed his sword, applied Water Kin, and removed all the hair on my head.
The blade was cold against my scalp, but the Water Kin made it precise, a thin layer of water that acted as both lubricant and shield. In moments, my golden hair lay in clumps on the ground around me.
"Burn this."
Cinder grabbed the Aether lantern and threw it onto the hair. It burned to nothingness.
I ran my hand over my bare scalp. The sensation was strange, unfamiliar. But when I looked at my reflection in a puddle of water, I saw a stranger. A boy with no identifying marks, no family brand, no past.
Perfect.
"Where are the others?" I asked.
"Roran and Mirabel are with the prisoners. And that girl…"
"What about her?"
"She's nobility."
Of course she was. The red hair, the delicate features, the way she carried herself even in exhaustion, it all screamed high birth.
"Cinder, you deal with this."
"What? Me? Really? You're a noble too, so it might be easier for you to—"
"No. Let's move now. The war could start anytime."
I walked away before he could argue. Let him handle the nobility. I had more important things to worry about.
—
The prisoners and the rest of us started walking in a line toward House Theodore.
Abyssal AER Jail was inside a small forest. House Theodore was the closest from here.
The column stretched behind me, dozens of former prisoners, some walking, some being carried, all moving with the slow, uncertain gait of people who had forgotten how to travel. Mirabel and Roran shepherded them, keeping the group together, offering encouragement to those who faltered.
That girl was walking with Mirabel. She had recovered fast.
Too fast. Her recovery was suspicious, but I pushed the thought aside.
It's better not to get involved with her.
I walked with Cinder at the rear.
"How did you come up with those moves and plans?" Cinder finally asked.
The question had been building in him for hours. I could see it in the way he glanced at me, the way he measured my every movement against his own experience.
"I've been training since birth, and I've read a thousand books. It's all about applying that knowledge and training."
It was the truth, stripped of context. He didn't need to know about my past life, about Earth, about the memories that shaped my thinking.
He nodded slowly, accepting the explanation. Before he could ask more…
Suddenly, a strong residual wave of concentrated Aether energy—like the shockwaves from an atomic bomb—hit us.
The force slammed into us like a physical wall. Trees bent. Dust rose. The ground trembled beneath our feet.
By the time it reached us, it had weakened.
But even weakened, it was unmistakable. This wasn't a battle between guards and prisoners. This was something else entirely.
Cinder and his team immediately looked for enemies.
Their eyes scanned the horizon, weapons raised, bodies tense. But there were no enemies here. The source of that shockwave was miles away.
I felt it in my bones, in the hollow where my Aether should have been. A tremor that spoke of power beyond comprehension, of forces colliding that could reshape the land itself.
"The war has started."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them. Cinder looked at me, his face pale in the moonlight.
We stood there, at the edge of the forest, watching the distant sky where flashes of light were beginning to appear, the signature of Aetheric combat on a scale neither of us had ever witnessed.