The half-demon awoke later that day, the day he was supposed to die. His vision was blurry, and he could still feel the pain of the bullet wounds that had finally begun to heal now that his body had a chance to rest. He looked up into the sky wondering why he could still feel the pain from his wounds, he looked back down into the grave and saw the corpses around him. He came to the horrifying realization that he hadn't died, not yet. He wondered what could have saved him, by all logic he should've died from his wounds, he knew that his body had no energy left to repair itself before he passed out. Where did the energy come from? Coming back to his senses, he realized that a person was gripping his hand. Someone down there lived long enough to see Toranto join them. He mustered up the strength to tilt his body upward and look down at his hands, and he saw her. He saw the woman he had helped so many times, the demon lady who was pregnant. She was gripping his hand, with no life left in her. The half-breed immediately put together the puzzle of what happened, although it deathly sickened him. It made him well up with sadness, tears immediately began flowing down his face and the realization that this mother gave her life to protect his had set in. For the second time in his life, a mother had sacrificed herself to save him.
Never had Toranto felt such conflict, he simultaneously wanted to give up completely and fight to live so as not to waste the second chance the lady had given him. He pulled himself together and managed to sit himself up, he was slowly resolving himself to escape from this prison. He knew that if he didn't leave now, he would likely never find the course to leave again. He stood atop the pile of corpses and grabbed the mother who saved him, he used what little strength he had to lift her body out of the hole along with himself. After being imprisoned here for so long, he had begun to learn when the soldiers kept watch of the facility. He knew he wouldn't be in crucial danger of getting captured given how late in the night it was, he just needed to find a way to get over the electrified fence. His plan to escape went into action.
He carried the woman's body to the gate, making sure to avoid the sight of any windows from the facility. The poor night coupled with the facility's poor lighting helped dramatically. He was resolved to do this, even if it got him killed. He carried the woman's body to the fence and laid her on the ground for a moment so he could catch his breath. He looked through the fence, to the other side where he could get as far away from this place as possible. Toranto knew at this point that any charms cast unto the facility would alert the soldiers to his location, he had seen an inmate die this way a month prior in an escape attempt. His idea, instead, was to cast a charm on himself. He focused his mind, bent down his body, and moved his hands from his feet upward to the sky. It took an immense amount of focus to project the sigils within his mind, but he knew the light produced from them would likely summon the soldiers to his location and so he had no choice. He effectively raised the temperature of his skin, allowing it to act as a better conductor of electricity. This way, he could touch the fence and most of the electricity would only pass through his skin instead of his vital organs. He knew that he could only stand the hotter temperature and electric shocks for so long, so this had to be fast. He grabbed the woman's body and balanced her over his shoulders; he began to climb over the fence. He could feel his skin burning from the heat of the electricity coursing through it. It felt like hell, it felt like his skin was melting, and part of it probably was. He felt his hands and feet burning the worst, so much so that he could see smoke emanating from them. He had to finish this fast or else he would die here from the immense pain. Once he reached the top of the fence, he did not bother climbing back down and instead dropped to the other side. He landed on his side and badly injured his arm in the process, but it was better than staying within the gates. The feeling from the charm began to fade away and he was left with the burns of the electric shocks on his skin. He desperately wanted to lay here and take a break, but he did not want to waste the opportunity he had been given to get as far away from this place as possible. And so, he didn't.
He had been carrying the woman's body for some time now, probably around an hour of walking into the woods back in the direction he knew his home was. He figured there was a good enough spot, he found himself close to the border between Denomi and Aztan. The area was heavily wooded, and there was no sign of militia nearby. So, he did the only thing he could do, the only thing he thought was right. He laid the lady's body on the ground for a moment. He closed his eyes, focused his mind, and stomped on the ground. He brought his hands down to the earth and pulled it apart. It was a grave for the lady who gave her life to save him. He walked over to her, picked up her body, and placed her into the grave. "Thank you, for everything…I'll try to help others the way you helped me." These were the half-demon's parting words to the lady. He re-centered his mind and brought his hands together in unison, burying the lady's body. He prayed that no one would disturb the lady's resting place and continued his journey on his own.
As he continued his walk, he thought about everything that had happened to him within the last six months. He had borne witness to so many atrocities, he was the victim of many of them. He had seen so many innocent people die, and for what? He still had no idea what the goal of this regime was, why they wanted the energy of so many people, or who was leading this invasion of his home. All he knew was that he wanted to start fighting against it, even if it got him killed the next morning. He owed it to his family, his mother, the people of his home, and the lady who gave her life to save him. He began to feel something else swell within him, and the pain he felt from each step only served to further ignite it. He felt anger, a burning rage like he had never experienced before. Anger at the people who had taken his home from him, anger at the people who had taken his mother from him, anger at the soldiers who killed whomever they pleased, anger at this regime who saw no issue with overhauling the lives of millions, anger at the world for making him bury a pregnant lady. He was given a second chance to survive, and this time he was resolved to fight back.