The underground hideout was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and burning wax. Shadows flickered across the cavernous walls, stretching and twisting as if listening to the hushed voices of the figures gathered around a worn, parchment map. The only source of light came from a cluster of candles, their flames struggling against the darkness that threatened to swallow them whole.
A skeletal hand traced the edges of the map, fingers gliding over the inked outline of Oblivion Hold ,one of the most deadly prison in all of Nytheris that was said to be a place of no return.
Built on a floating island high above the Abyssal Maw the water side border of the Kingdom closer to their neighboring Kingdom of Elyria, surrounded by eternal storms and anti-magic barriers, it was a cage designed to hold the worst of the worst. None had escaped. Many had tried.
And yet, they would.
"The Veiled One," a voice rasped from the gloom. "Is it worth dying for?"
The voice belonged to Blake also know as Inferno, his crimson eyes reflecting the candlelight like embers. His presence alone made the air dry, the faint scent of burning fabric always clinging to him. He leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, the flickering light emphasizing the jagged burns on his skin.
Across the table, a smirk curled on Krylan's lips known as Wraith. His form was restless, shifting subtly in the candlelight, as if the shadows themselves were a part of him.
"If it wasn't worth dying for," he murmured, "we wouldn't be here, would we?" His voice was a whisper, smooth and deceitful, layered with hidden meanings.
Legion scoffed. He had no any other name.
"We could be anywhere right now. Taking on jobs that don't get us killed." He was the most cool head of the group,He sat lazily on a wooden chair, booted feet propped up on the table and wide glasses. But even as he spoke,
His form flickered, splitting into two, then three, then five identical versions of himself. His clones shifted, mirroring his nonchalance, before merging back into one.
"We're taking this job," Wraith said, tone final. His fingers drummed against the table, tracing the King piece that marked the prison's core on the map.
"The Veiled One is the key to everything. We need him, and we need him alive."
Inferno exhaled sharply. His red hair was all messy showing evidence of untidedness
"You mean if he's still alive."
"He's alive," Wraith said, almost amused. "They wouldn't go through the trouble of keeping him locked in there otherwise."
A heavy silence followed. They all knew what Oblivion Hold was.
It wasn't just a prison.
It was a graveyard in waiting. If someone was sent there, it was because death wasn't enough.
Inferno's fingers curled into a fist, flames licking at his knuckles.
"Alright. Let's say we do this. How in the hell are we getting inside?"
Legion chuckled, his grin sharp. "That's the best part. We don't break in." He leaned forward, pointing at the map. "We become part of it."
His finger rested on a marked route, a supply convoy marked as a pawn on the map scheduled to deliver enchanted chains and nullification crystals to the prison's vaults.
"One day from now," Wraith continued, "a shipment arrives. We infiltrate the convoy, get inside, and once we're past the security gates..."
Inferno caught on. "Then we burn it down from the inside."
"Exactly."
Wraith's grin widened, but there was something predatory in it.
"Of course, there's just one problem. The prison's run by a 3 Warden's at the Increat level at that, a team of cultivator ranked higher than the average soldiers With a General leading them at the Grand Master rank but luckily enough he wasn't around at the moment.
And the moment we're discovered, they'll activate the Sentinels constructs powered by mana cores that don't need sleep, rest, or mercy."
Legion cracked his knuckles.
"Then we make sure they never see us coming."
"We will push our joint force through their flanks to create a distraction if anything goes south"
Inferno let out a dark chuckle. "I was hoping you'd say that."
The candlelight flickered violently as his flames burned brighter. He was more of the muscle brain in the group with nothing but brawls.
" Or still if things goes too south we will just have to stall for Team B to make their move"
The plan was set. The heist of the unbreakable prison had begun.
A infiltration that was held with nothing than a bit of hope and more of insanity
--------------------
The night air was thick with the scent of damp stone and rain-soaked steel. The floating island of Oblivion Hold loomed above the abyss like a jagged shard of night itself, its towering walls glistening under the faint glow of enchanted runes. The prison was alive watching, breathing, its defenses pulsing like the heartbeat of a slumbering titan.
Somewhere within, locked away in the deepest chambers, was The Veiled One.
And tonight, the servant of sins had come for him.
A lone figure strode toward the main gate, his steps measured, his posture exuding quiet authority. His long black coat, lined with crimson sigils of high-ranking wardens, swayed with each step. The guards stationed at the entrance barely spared him a glance after all, the face of Warden Salthar was well known within the prison.
Except… it wasn't really Salthar.
Wraith moved effortlessly, his form woven into the very essence of the warden he had consumed.
Every detail the scars lining his throat, the ever-present scowl, even the stiffness in his gait was perfectly replicated. He was no mere illusion; he had become the man.
Two guards saluted as he passed. They didn't question. They didn't hesitate.
The Black Vow was inside.
Magic attributes were classified into different type, Fire, Air,Water and Earth were known as the main type but some still remained, Light, Darkness, Energy and Null magic.
Wraith acted as a bishop on the map , infiltrating the Prison with his Actual replica, a type of Null magic he weirded.
Even mana scanners couldn't pick it up as different to the original, unlike any other copying type of ability his Actual replica wasn't cloning him into his opponent,
It made him the person. A very terrifying ability.
Beyond the walls, in the misty prison city, Legion's attack began.
Hundreds of figures burst into existence at once Legion after Legion after Legion. They poured into the outer districts, moving like a tide of phantom soldiers. Some sprinted through the alleyways, setting off false alarms. Others hurled themselves at patrols, forcing the prison's guards into action.
Shouts echoed. Bells rang. Shadows danced in the torchlight.
The real Legion stood atop a watchtower, unseen, watching as his clones flooded the streets below. "Works every time," he murmured, grinning as he saw the guards scrambling in confusion.
He was represented by the Rook and 3 pawns at the same time, acting as distraction and also the watch tower.
Wielding a type of Null magic highly rare called Complete Multiple.
He could invariably make real clones of himself,not the type that would go off after an attack but the types that were exactly like him with the same threat and mental fortitude
The city was chaos, and chaos was exactly what they needed.
Deep beneath the prison, Inferno stood at the mouth of an abandoned sewage tunnel, his hands pressed against the thick steel grate blocking the entrance. The tunnel was forgotten, sealed long ago when the prison's magical defenses rendered it obsolete.
But metal was no match for fire.
At least not this type of fire.
Inferno exhaled, his breath turning the air white-hot. The steel hissed, then began to glow a dull orange. Flames crawled up his arms, twisting and writhing as he pressed harder. The heat intensified, the metal warping, sagging—until finally, with a molten crack, the grate collapsed into slag.
Smoke curled from his fingertips as he stepped inside. "Time to burn a new path."
Inferno possessed the Fire attribute, but his flames weren't normal they could vary in spectrum depending on how hot he wants it and what he needs it for.
At the heart of the prison, Wraith had already reached the security command post.
The room was dimly lit, rows of crystal screens displaying the prison's surveillance feeds. Wraith walked in without hesitation, nodding at the stationed officers.
A single glance.
A whisper of stolen breath.
The guards never even noticed as their forms twisted, reshaped their identities pulled into the void of Wraith's being.
They slumped over, unconscious, as Wraith took his place among them. His fingers danced over the arcane control panel, manipulating the security systems.
Surveillance feeds flickered. Patrols were rerouted.
For the first time in centuries, Oblivion Hold's defenses blinked.
The defense didn't flutter from any army.
Just from three men.
And in that moment of blindness, the Black Vow moved.
Then something changed.
The air inside the prison shifted, charged with an unnatural presence. Wraith barely had time to register the sensation before the runes lining the walls flared to life.
A cold voice mechanical, ancient echoed through the stronghold.
"ANOMALY DETECTED."
Wraith's eyes darkened. Too soon.
Across the prison, Sentinels began to stir. Ancient constructs crafted from enchanted steel, engraved with runes pulsing like veins awoke from their slumber.
Heavy footsteps rang through the halls as they turned toward the intruders. Their hollow eyes burned with recognition.
They were one of the things Wraith wanted to avoid after all they could tell him apart from the person he copied by his thoughts.
Unimaginable abominations.
Outside was in more disorder, all of the Complete Multiple Inferno had sent to cause distraction all of a sudden vanish into thin air , at first he could sense them then suddenly he couldn't.
The prison had noticed them.
The Wardens had noticed them.
And it was no longer blind.