Vael watched as the white essence seeped into his body, a strange warmth spreading through his veins. He felt... stronger. Not much, but enough to notice the difference. His ragged breaths steadied, his aching muscles no longer screamed in protest.
{ESSENCE ABSORBED. 2 FRAGMENTS GAINED.}
The system's voice was cold and emotionless, but to Vael, it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.
"Fragments, huh?" he muttered, gripping the rusty pipe tighter. Seems like I can get stronger by absorbing their 'essence,' which I don't even know what it is, Vael muttered.
Cries of battle and the clang of weapons echoed through the underground chamber. The remaining guards were overwhelmed, some retreating, others cut down by the desperate mob. Vael had no intention of leaving weak. He needed more power. More essence. More kills.
His eyes darted toward two unconscious guards. He swiftly cracked their skulls, gaining 2 more fragments. "Seems like I don't get 2 fragments every time," Vael muttered before moving upstairs, gripping the rusty pipe.
There, he saw a struggling guard pinned beneath two prisoners. The man snarled, swinging his club wildly, breaking one prisoner's nose with a sickening crunch. The other hesitated, and in that moment, the guard overpowered him, flipping him onto the ground.
Vael saw his chance.
He dashed forward, gripping the pipe with both hands, and swung at the back of the guard's knee. A loud crack filled the air as the man screamed, his leg buckling under him. He turned, eyes wild with pain and fury, but Vael was faster. He brought the pipe down again—this time on the man's skull.
Once. Twice. The third blow split skin. The fourth crushed bone.
The guard twitched once before going still.
{ESSENCE ABSORBED. 3 FRAGMENTS GAINED.}
Vael exhaled sharply. The rush was intoxicating. Each kill made him feel more... alive. He wiped the sweat off his brow, eyes scanning for another target.
"Vael!"
Oren's voice snapped him back to reality. The older man stood near the now-open gate, gesturing frantically. "If you don't move now, we're dead!"
Vael hesitated. More guards were on their way, their shouts growing closer. If they were Bronze-ranks, escape would become impossible. Grinding his teeth, he turned and sprinted toward Oren.
As they dashed up the narrow stone steps, more prisoners ran alongside them, some bleeding, others dragging wounded companions. The halls above were dimly lit by torches, revealing a large stone corridor leading to a towering wooden door.
"That's the exit!" someone shouted.
Just as hope swelled in their chests, a booming voice echoed through the chamber.
"WORTHLESS SLAVES! KNEEL!"
A wave of suffocating pressure slammed down on them. Vael stumbled, his legs buckling under an invisible force. Others collapsed entirely, gasping for breath.
From the shadows emerged a towering figure clad in dark armor, a thick iron whip coiled at his side. His presence alone sent shivers down Vael's spine.
"A Bronze-rank..." Oren whispered, horror-struck. "We're screwed."
The overseer glared at the chaos before him, eyes filled with contempt. "You think you can defy your fate? Pathetic." He lashed his whip forward, and in a blink, it wrapped around a fleeing prisoner's neck. With a violent yank, the man's head twisted unnaturally, his body crumpling lifelessly to the floor.
Panic erupted. Some tried to run, others froze in terror.
Vael clenched his fists. No. He refused to die here.
He forced himself to his feet, every fiber of his being screaming in protest against the suffocating aura. The overseer turned his gaze on him, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.
"Oh? You can still stand? How unexpected."
Vael didn't waste words. He lunged forward, gripping his rusty pipe, aiming straight for the man's throat.
Crack!
The overseer caught the pipe mid-swing with a single hand. He barely flinched as he squeezed, bending the metal like clay. "Foolish."
Before Vael could react, a fist slammed into his gut. White-hot pain exploded in his ribs, and he was sent flying backward, crashing against the stone wall. The impact stole the air from his lungs, his vision flickering in and out.
"VAEL!" Oren shouted.
The overseer stepped forward, whip uncoiling. "This rebellion ends now. Surrender, and perhaps they might let you live."
Vael's mind spun. He couldn't win in a direct fight. But he didn't need to. He just needed to escape.
His eyes darted around, searching for an opening. Then, an idea struck him.
He suddenly shouted, "The other gate is open! Everyone, this way!"
Panic and desperation worked in his favor. The prisoners, caught in the frenzy, scattered, some charging at the overseer in a last-ditch effort to flee. Others turned and ran in the opposite direction, believing Vael's bluff.
The overseer scoffed. "Fool! There is no second gate! Kneel and accept your fate!"
But his declaration didn't stop the chaos. The prisoners' wild movements disrupted his line of sight, creating just the opportunity Vael needed.
Vael didn't hesitate. He slipped into the shadows, using the confusion to maneuver past the overseer unnoticed. Step by step, he edged toward the exit, careful not to draw attention.
"NOW! OPEN THE DOORS!" someone yelled.
A group of prisoners shoved the heavy doors open, revealing the moonlit forest beyond. The cool night air hit them like a wave of freedom.
"RUN!"
Vael didn't need to be told twice. He turned and bolted, Oren right beside him. Behind them, the overseer roared, trying to regain control, but by the time he could act, dozens had already escaped into the night.
Vael's lungs burned as he ran, quickly realizing he was in the slums.