Kitsune crouched low, the cold metal bar firm in his grip. He leaned it against the lock mechanism, applying steady pressure. His fingers twirled lightly on the surface of the bar.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath. "Nice and easy does it."
The lock clicked, a faint echo in the silence. He paused, heart beating in his ears like distant war drums. With a careful push, the door creaked open just enough to allow his slender frame passage. Kitsune's pulse quickened; the thrill of the gamble was on him now, every sense heightened as he slipped through the gap.
He stepped out, the corridor stretching before him, drenched in shadows that clung to the damp walls. The air was heavy with the scent of iron, but beneath it all, he caught the sound of life—a guard's muffled cough, the scuff of boots on stone, hushed voices trading stories born of monotony.
His sneakers made no sound as he padded along, the fabric of his virtual prison garb brushing against his skin. His eyes were alert, searching for the patterns in the guards' movements, the rhythm of their patrols. Every shadow became an ally, every shaft of light from the high windows a hazard to be avoided.
He listened intently, analyzing the distance of the footsteps, gauging the weight behind each one. Kitsune couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of it all—the high school gambler turned escapist extraordinaire.
For a moment, he imagined the look on his classmates' faces if they could see him now—Kitsune Zenko, the bored genius, finding meaning in an artificial world where every move could be his last. But then he shook his head, clearing it of distractions.
"Focus," he snapped inwardly. "This isn't a game you can afford to lose."
The echoes grew closer, and Kitsune pressed himself against the wall, the stone's chill seeping into his bones. He counted the seconds between footfalls and waited for the precise moment to make his move.
"Timing's everything," he breathed, seizing his chance as the voices drifted away once more. With a swift, fluid motion, he darted across the corridor, disappearing into the safety of the next dark recess.
"Step by step," Kitsune affirmed, inching closer to whatever lay beyond these confining walls. "Like dealing out cards... just have to play them right."
The shadows clung to Kitsune like an accomplice as he moved silently along the corridor, the rusty bar gripped tight in his hand. The guards' boots echoed off the stone, their rhythm a metronome for his heartbeat.
"Ya hear about the warden's new decree?" one of the guards muttered, the sound bouncing down the hallway.
"Bet it's another round of ration cuts," replied another, a tinge of resignation in his voice.
Kitsune pressed himself flat against the uneven wall, heart racing. He could almost feel the brush of the guards' tunics as they passed by, oblivious to the prey in their midst.
'Idiots,' Kitsune thought, smirking at their blind complacency. "Just keep talking."
He slipped from shadow to shadow, a silent specter trailing the guards. The light from their torches flickered and danced, casting long, menacing shapes that seemed to reach for him with each step. But Kitsune was a wraith among them, unseen and unheard.
"Almost there," he whispered to himself, a mantra to stave off the creeping panic. His eyes searched ahead, but the corridor betrayed him, ending abruptly in a solid wall.
"Damn!" His curse was no more than a breath, his gaze raking over the cold, dead end. "Think, Kitsune, think!"
His fingers traced the wall, desperate for a sign, a seam, anything. Then they caught on something—a brick that yielded beneath his touch. His pulse quickened; this was the gamble he needed.
"Come on..." he urged, coaxing the brick from its resting place with careful movements.
"Hey, did you hear something?" one guard called out.
"Probably just rats," the other dismissed with a grunt.
"Rats," Kitsune echoed silently, a smirk tugging at his lips. "That's right, just vermin scurrying about."
With a final tug, the brick came free, revealing darkness beyond—a passage concealed within the prison'.
"Jackpot." Kitsune couldn't contain the triumph in his whisper.
"Whoa," Kitsune murmured, his gaze zeroing in on the epicenter of the tunnel. But as he turned around he saw a new issue uprising.
There, amidst the turmoil, stood Chavo—an NPC with a menacing aura that seemed to distort the very pixels around him. His movements were quick, almost elegant, as he dispatched guard after guard with an ease that belied the violence of his actions.
"Guards! To me! Call Back!!" one of them shouted, but his command was cut short as Chavo launched another explosive device towards the group, engulfing them in a radiant sphere of destruction.
He glanced back once, ensuring Chavo remained unaware, then slipped into the tunnel. The stone scraped against his skin as he squeezed through, every sense alert.