*clink...! *clank...! *rattle...!
The metallic clank of heavy chains echoed grimly across the dark and suffocating corridor, each sound bouncing off the cold walls like a cruel reminder of their fate.
Thick iron bindings dug into wrists, necks, and ankles—biting into flesh without mercy.
The steady rhythm of rattling metal was joined only by the muffled sobs of the weak and the soft gasps of those trying to suppress their terror.
The very air itself seemed soaked in oppression, and as the final shackle clicked into place, an ominous stillness followed—as if the universe itself held its breath in anticipation of what was to come.
Whatever awaited them in Juggernot, it would surely not be something that offered mercy.
This place was not built for the fragile, and the weak would be devoured first.
"What now…?" Kain whispered faintly, leaning close to Jinn's ear as if the sound of his own voice might draw the wrath of the gods.
His words trembled with fear, and there was a look in his eyes like a flickering candle fighting not to go out.
"Now, we wait," Jinn replied softly, his voice calm but distant.
He did not turn to look at Kain—instead, his eyes slowly closed as he sank inward into the depths of his thoughts.
With the cold iron biting into his skin and the chains anchoring him to a fate he couldn't yet see, Jinn began to focus.
He had to.
He needed to plan.
His mind flickered to the first thing he needed to accomplish once they were inside Juggernot: the necklace—Nevi's necklace.
The one Orin had dropped, the only memento of her sister.
That necklace had ended up in the hands of an adult man who was now in the same group as him, and no matter what it took—Jinn would retrieve it.
He had to.
If pickpocketing won't work… then maybe I'll take it by force.
But how?
The thought plagued him.
He didn't know the man's strength, nor his reaction if confronted.
Still, Jinn was certain of one thing—when the right moment came, he wouldn't hesitate.
He couldn't.
That necklace meant everything to Orin, and he wasn't going to let it slip away again.
His second goal was even more pressing.
He needed to find a way to reunite with the rest of his friends.
The longer they remained separated, the higher the risk that something terrible would happen to one of them.
And right now, they had no protection, no weapons, no leverage—just each other.
And even that was slipping away.
I just hope Hector's managing things… please, let him keep them safe…
Time crawled forward like a dying animal.
Minutes passed with agonizing slowness, the air filled only by the haunting murmurs of fear-stricken slaves, the cruel echo of chains dragging across steel floors, and the subtle mechanical whirs and groans of the dreadnought that imprisoned them.
There was no comfort in those sounds—only a terrible anticipation, a quiet screaming in every heart that refused to burst aloud.
The chamber was heavy with unspoken dread.
It was as if everyone was frozen in place, too afraid to move, too afraid to hope.
And then it happened.
*vrrrrrrrrrr!!!
The dreadnought's massive engines roared to life one final time, their deep mechanical growl shaking the chamber as if heralding the arrival of doom itself.
The noise started as a deafening thunder, but soon tapered into a low hum—until it was replaced by a sharp
*thud!
that reverberated across the floor, shaking even the teeth in their mouths.
It was the kind of sound that told them they were no longer drifting through space.
Jinn's eyes fluttered open.
"We're here," he murmured beneath his breath, voice nearly drowned by the lingering echoes of the impact.
At the front of the formation, the warden raised one of his arms, a data pad clutched firmly in his black-gloved hand.
With several flicks of his fingers, the screen lit up and responded with a few sterile beeping sounds.
The warden studied the device briefly before powering it off and lowering his arm.
Then, with a booming voice that carried the weight of command and cruelty alike, he turned to the masses of chained humans before him.
"Rejoice, slaves!" the warden called out with a voice so proud it felt venomous.
"You now stand before the gates of Juggernot!"
His words echoed across the chamber like a dreadful anthem, piercing the silence like spears.
Yet none among the slaves dared to respond.
They didn't cry, nor mutter defiance.
Not a single breath dared rise in resistance.
It was as if those words alone were enough to strangle the air from their throats, turning the act of speaking into an act of rebellion too great to attempt.
But expressions told a deeper story.
Across the rows of bound souls were eyes hollow with loss and despair.
Many looked dead already, as if the fire within them had long been extinguished.
Others were trapped in delirium, lost in mental ruins.
A few still held a dangerous glint of resistance—a flicker of rebellion refusing to die.
Parents clutched their children tightly.
The young cried, trembling as their small hands gripped older ones.
Tears streamed freely, and hope was a ghost none of them could touch.
Jinn was different.
There was something burning inside him—something warm.
It stirred quietly beneath the cold metal chains and the aching bruises.
It wasn't rage, nor was it vengeance.
It was something more raw.
He had felt it before.
That day in the alleyway when they were attacked by thugs.
That moment when Ophelia almost fell from the bridge.
When he stood between death and salvation during his fight with Venedix.
This warmth—this strange power—had always been with him.
It wasn't magic.
It wasn't a gift.
It wasn't even something he truly understood.
It was just… there.
Quiet.
Steady.
Relentless.
To someone else, it might've felt like adrenaline or desperation or some kind of supernatural strength.
But for Jinn, it felt like heat—deep and unwavering, like an ember that could bloom into an inferno.
It was the thing that pushed him forward when all odds screamed for him to stop.
It was the reason why he could act when others froze.
It was the core of something that some might've called heroism.
But Jinn didn't care about being a hero.
He just wanted to protect his friends.
That was all.
*hiss...! *grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Before he could sink deeper into his thoughts, the silence was shattered by a loud hiss and groan.
The massive door at the front of the chamber began to shift and unlock.
*click! *clack! *clunk!
Mechanical locks clicked open in a rhythmic sequence, followed by a low grinding of steel as the entrance peeled apart—slowly revealing what lay beyond.
*Fwoooosh!
A wave of freezing air surged through the opening.
It hit the slaves like a physical force—cutting across their faces, seeping into their bones, and making their bodies tremble.
It wasn't just cold.
It was a creeping kind of chill, sharp and merciless, like knives made of frost.
"C-Cold…!" Kain whimpered as he hunched forward, trying to protect his face with his arms, his blonde hair tossed up by the icy wind.
Jinn narrowed his eyes, his gaze unyielding despite the numbing bite against his skin.
"Steel yourself, Kain," he said, his voice both a command and a comfort.
"It only gets harder from here."
And it did.
===
As the icy wind continued to crawl along their skin, Jinn heard something—distant at first, almost like a whisper riding the current of air.
But it didn't take long before the muffled noise grew louder, sharper, more distinct.
It became undeniable.
Cheering.
Real cheering.
Loud, wild, and vicious.
"Is that… cheering?" Jinn muttered, disbelief edging into his voice.
It was.
The sound grew into a thundering roar, shaking the very metal walls of the dreadnought, as if the planet itself was welcoming them in with the mockery of celebration.
The volume alone was disorienting, like a twisted festival being held in honor of their suffering.
The warden stepped forward then, raising his arm high before motioning with a commanding gesture.
He gave a single nod, and behind him, soldiers moved into position like clockwork, their armor clicking with discipline.
"All slaves—move and follow the warden!" a soldier barked.
*FWHIP!
Then came the unmistakable sound of a whip slashing through the air with violent speed.
*CRACK!
The air snapped as the whip sliced through it, and several slaves flinched back, the echo of the strike enough to send a jolt of panic down their spines.
No one resisted.
No one dared.
The chains began to clink and scrape once more as the slaves started moving forward—shackled feet dragging slowly across the floor.
Jinn stepped along with the group, and as they moved out from the confines of the dreadnought, the cruel atmosphere of Juggernot XII greeted them with open arms.
*Fwooosh!
The cold outside was like a living entity—it tore through every inch of exposed flesh, merciless and biting.
It wasn't just physical pain.
It was a psychological assault, a declaration that survival here would not come easy.
Even Jinn felt it.
His fingertips grew numb with each passing second, and he clenched them into fists to keep circulation going.
Still, he kept walking.
There was no other choice.
As he stepped further out, his gaze lifted to the sky.
Two massive moons hung above, both crimson red, their light painting the clouds in an eerie blood hue.
The contrast against the frigid, blue-tinged landscape was beautiful—hauntingly so.
It looked like the heavens themselves were bleeding for the souls below.
Jinn then noticed the soldiers.
Formations of Zerafhon warriors, clad in gleaming dark armor, marched proudly through the streets.
They were flanked on both sides by enormous black towers from which crowds of citizens—Zeraf loyalists—watched with gleeful faces.
Cheers erupted from the balconies above, but they weren't cheers of welcome.
They were cheers of cruelty.
Of dominance.
*Splat!
Suddenly, something small hit Jinn's arm and bounced to the ground.
He looked down—it was a rotting fruit.
Then another struck a slave beside him, followed by jeering laughter.
The citizens above began throwing more: fruits, scraps of food, even solid chunks of ice or rock.
The cruelty escalated with each second.
Some slaves cried out in pain.
Others simply lowered their heads, enduring in silence.
Blood started to drip from wounds caused by the heavier projectiles.
The freezing wind made every cut sting worse, like salt poured on an open wound.
The air stung, not just with cold, but with shame and humiliation.
Jinn heard a whimper and turned to see Kain trembling beside him.
The boy clung to his own coat, trying to shrink into himself, trying not to be noticed.
"J-Jinn, I'm scared…" Kain's voice cracked under the pressure. He looked like he might collapse at any moment.
Jinn's jaw clenched.
He reached toward him as much as the chains allowed and said, "Just keep moving forward, Kain. You got this. We're almost through."
He knew Kain was easily frightened.
Always had been.
But seeing him like this, defenseless and humiliated—it boiled Jinn's blood, though he kept it buried.
Now was not the time for emotion.
Now was the time to survive.
Their march—this parade of suffering—continued beneath the crimson sky.
Finally, the group came to a halt.
What lay before them was monstrous.
A gate, colossal in size, loomed ahead like a mountain carved from black obsidian and infused with crimson veins of glowing energy.
Gold carvings adorned the surface—depictions of warriors locked in battle against serpentine creatures.
The artwork was divine, yet horrifying.
It was a monument to the Zeraf's strength… and their cruelty.
Jinn stared up, feeling impossibly small.
"Ikaskaren Ven Gaek!" a soldier shouted from the front, the words like a ritual.
*grrrrrrk!
With a deep mechanical groan, the gate responded.
It began to move, opening slowly, metal grinding against metal. The sound was like the growl of a beast awakening from centuries of sleep.
When the gate fully opened, the sight beyond was revealed.
An entire city lay within.
Gigantic towers stretched high into the sky, dwarfing anything Jinn had ever seen.
The architecture was precise, cold, and inhumanly massive—designed as if giants once walked among them.
The civilians inside cheered just as cruelly as those outside.
From balconies and terraces, they celebrated—not a holiday, but the arrival of new slaves.
A victory for their empire.
A humiliation for everyone walking through those gates.
As they marched in, Jinn's eyes fell on a familiar figure at the front of the formation.
Venedix.
He was flanked by two others—Amaron, the cybernetic scientist from before, and Emerith, the same Zeraf commander who led the siege against Leran.
They walked with pride, basking in the noise of adoration, while behind them trailed the defeated and broken.
This was not just a march.
It was a statement.
As they continued deeper into the city, the path wound through rows of buildings, intricate structures of stone, obsidian, and gold.
Every few steps, the crowd hurled more insults, more objects.
Jinn saw faces twisted in hate, laughing as if this was a game.
Disgust dripped from their expressions like poison.
Eventually, the slaves were separated from the entourage of House Sorellia and directed down a different road.
After a long and brutal walk, they reached a new destination—an enormous, rotting stone building.
Its very presence felt wrong.
It stood apart from the other grand structures.
It was not made of obsidian
. It bore no decorations.
Just cracked stone, black mold, and suffering.
One by one, the slave groups were herded inside.
The interior was as grim as the outside suggested.
The walls were damp, covered in moss and grime.
Every breath tasted stale and heavy.
The faint echoes of screams reached their ears—barely audible, yet impossible to ignore.
Children whimpered.
Parents tried to console them, their voices trembling just as much.
"M-Mama, what was that?" one child asked, holding their mother's hand tightly.
"I-I'm sure we'll be alright, dear…" the mother replied, her voice quivering with a hope she didn't believe.
As the groups progressed, they were split again—some forced left, some right.
Jinn and Kain's group were led downward, descending a spiral staircase that seemed to stretch forever.
The deeper they went, the harder it became to breathe.
The air thickened, the stone walls pressing in closer.
Every step deeper felt like walking into a tomb.
Jinn's ears caught the sound of groaning.
He turned his head and saw it.
Rows of massive cells.
Inside, dozens of slaves were crammed together like cattle, their bodies slumped in exhaustion, eyes vacant.
At last, the soldier leading their group stopped and opened a cell at the farthest end.
It was dark.
Cold.
Bare.
"Until further instructions, all of you will be contained here," the soldier said coldly.
Then, without waiting, they began shoving the slaves inside.
Bodies stumbled forward, chains rattling, cries rising in fear and confusion.
*BANG!
With a loud metallic bang, the door slammed shut.
The corridor fell into silence, broken only by the muffled sobs and hushed voices of those trapped inside.
And in that silence, Juggernot XII claimed its newest prisoners.