For eons since its founding, not a single soul had escaped Madstone. Hundreds of years, thousands of renovations, and countless improvements had birthed an inescapable framework. Beneath these blue skies, anything that obeyed the laws of physics was destined to perish within its walls. Who could have prophesied, however, that one day those very laws would collapse, and what once was deemed impossible would become reality.
The alarm's blare was deafening.
"I-i-it's in there, I swear. P-p-please… Please, stop," cried a quivering man. Soren extinguished the flames and removed his hand from the man's thigh. A gunshot echoed. The man's head slumped onto his chest, blood trickling down his nose, to his lips, and onto the white tiles.
Seven officers and four prisoners lay motionless next to the elevator. One prisoner and the underground section's key card were missing. A fortunate man, since there was no reason to pursue him. His usefulness had expired.
Turning the corner, Soren spotted three frantic guards. Exploiting his enhanced agility, he pulled the trigger twice before the officers could even comprehend what was happening. The third guard managed to return fire while the last bullet was still in midair. Soren pivoted his body, the projectile grazing his chest and adding his own blood to the crimson blend on his chest. Like a puppet with its strings cut, the guard collapsed, a small hole through his temple.
About three minutes were left until the staff regained their composure and complicated things.
'Mana : 1.2/5.1'
A single fireball and sixteen bullets, Soren counted as he picked up a new handgun. Stripping one of the bodies, he donned its uniform and stuffed his hair inside the hat. With a cold determination, he walked up to the barred gate demarcating the restricted area of the prison, and melted through the security panel.
"Hey man, where're you going? It-" A well-placed bullet cut the guard's words off. Soren dropped to the ground. Ammunition whizzed overhead as he returned fire. The roar of gunfire drowned out the blaring alarm, alerting the already panicked patrol.
Footsteps pounded around the corner. Ignoring the fresh corpses, Soren sprang to his feet, running and shouting.
"Help! Help me, the prisoners have escaped. John's dead. Heeeelp!!"
His frantic shrieks startled the approaching patrol squad. They skidded to a halt as a scrambling guard rounded the corner, nearly slipping in his mad rush.
Weeping, the man buried his face against the female officer's neck. The unexpected embrace took her by surprise.
"They killed John. There were too many of them," the man sobbed.
She awkwardly patted his head. "Shh, it's going to be alright. You can cry on the way. We have to inform the warden as soon as possible," she reassured, gently trying to push him away.
But the man clung to her with surprising intensity. Her uncertainty spiked as one of her partners leveled his gun at them.
"Who is John?"
The woman's blood went cold– or it should have– if not for the unnatural heat diffusing from her midsection. She lowered her head. An arm was embedded to the wrist inside her stomach, flames gushing out. Strange, that shouldn't be there, though it explained the warmth.
Consecutive impacts slammed into her back, driving the air from her lungs. Her ears buzzed as the hand yanked free, and she was shoved away. As her vision darkened, she glimpsed a man wiping his hand on her clothes. His eyes, two dark crimson pools, met hers. The realization hit her too late.
Soren stepped over his lifeless colleagues. Leaving the essences behind pained him, but there was no sense in carrying them if he couldn't absorb them.
Following the instructions he had procured, he reached the warden's office. Orange fire engulfed his finger as he melted through the old-fashioned lock.
Aged and out of shape, the warden fumbled for his holster when the door opened. A bullet to the shoulder forced him back into his chair.
Soren stepped inside, his wiry frame evident by the way his clothes hung loosely on him. Threadlike strands of hair fell free as he removed his cap.
"Mr. Warden, I'm in need of two things," Soren said with utmost politeness. "A master key and the method to unlock the cells."
"Fuck off, Demon. You think I don't recognize you? You ain't getting anything out of me," the warden howled, spittle spewing out his mouth and across the desk.
"I always thought that the nickname was unsavory and unsuitable. I am but a man, after all," Soren replied, pronouncing each word with chilling clarity as he moved closer.
"Recently, though, I've been thinking." Scarlet flames shrouded his hand. "It might be quite… fitting." He grinned.
…
The alarm rang intermittently, each brief silence shattered by a high-pitched buzz and the clash of metal and stone. Sound and stillness blended into a pattern that made one's heart race with its disconcerting rhythm. In the main prison, every single cell door unlocked, freeing the inmates. The tempo quickened, growing more chaotic by the second.
Whistling a low tune, Soren made his way toward the pier, sandwich in one hand, master key bouncing in the other. Since acquiring it, his journey had been uneventful. The prisoners avoided him, and the guards were too slow to pose a real threat.
Contentment washed over him as he chewed the crunchy bread. The warden had great taste in lunch food. Soren strolled down the plain prison corridors, relishing the warmth of the sunshine on his skin and the scent of the waves breaking against the boats' hulls. He gulped down the last bite of his sandwich and reached into his rucksack for another.
Suddenly, instinct kicked in, and he dropped flat, narrowly avoiding a black projectile. He rolled sideways. Splinters exploded as another bolt pierced the pier. Springing into a crouch, Soren scanned his surroundings for anything out of place, opting not to take cover. People always misjudged vulnerability as weakness.
The Mana crackled, agitating the air as it barreled toward him. Soren shifted just enough. The spell brushed his forearm, leaving a shallow gash.
Found you. The unnerving grin dissipated from his lips as a deluge of shadows blotted the sky.
He leapt backward, curling himself into a fetal position in midair. Dark energy blots streaked past him like angry wasps. Water splashed as he plunged into the sea. The bolts decelerated as they pierced the surface. Soren swam erratically through the magical onslaught and, in his disoriented state, made for the nearest boat.
Just as his head crested the gunwale, he was yanked by the hair and flung onto the railing. Pain seared through his spine. He shoved it to the back of his mind. Executing a scissor kick, he swept the man's knees and ankles. The man buckled and Soren straddled him.
A white-hot claw, cleaved flesh and bone alike, severing part of a lung. The ensuing screeches spoke of unimaginable pain—torment that could make even the bravest man wince, yet they did nothing to disrupt Soren's focus. Mana flooded his hand and the flames harmlessly flared up to his face.
The same couldn't be said for the man beneath him. His guts and entrails turned to mush. He tried to resist, but Soren brushed aside his feeble attempts with contemptuous ease.
When life finally departed the charred husk, Soren blinked. The corpse was unrecognizable, more akin to a lump of charcoal than a human, its features obfuscated by ash.
A man acting alone, skilled in magic, and aware enough of the island's situation to know he should escape immediately—who was this person?
A few scattered blond strands of hair pieced these clues together. Him choosing to lurk in ambush now made sense—he had no ignition key, plus revenge and all that. Such were the consequences of failing to tie up all loose ends. He should have taken care of it when he had the chance. Now, he had to settle for re-learning an old lesson: leave no witnesses.
Still, nothing really explained how this person had learned a spell. It was impossible for him to be entirely self-taught. Wasn't it? The notion of teaching oneself the intricacies of Mana without external aid sent shivers down Soren's spine. There had to be a portal nearby.
With a gentle nudge, the grey essence adhered to his Mana, withdrawing along with the invisible threads.
"You have absorbed the essence of a level 1 Human-[Common]. +0.1 Wisdom"
Soren paused. Were members of a species not the same? If not, then Level 1 humans were more than simple upgraded versions of themselves. From a certain perspective, this made sense. They had undergone significant changes. They had higher attributes and were faster, stronger, and more durable than lower levels; they could be regarded as a higher lifeform.
Reaching into his jacket, he retrieved a soggy sandwich. At least it was salted. He stashed the master key in his pocket and made his way back to the prison. He had a portal to locate.