Subtle droplets fell in irregular rhythm from the dark ceiling above, each one splashing against the cold, uneven stone floor with a soft
*plink!
that echoed into the suffocating stillness of the chamber.
The sounds, though small, resonated loudly within the quiet void of the prison—each droplet like a ticking clock marking the time they were forced to endure.
Combined with the faint murmurs and occasional gasps from the hundreds of imprisoned souls, it created a haunting soundscape—one that whispered of suffering, one that lingered in the bones.
The chamber itself, dimly lit by a few flickering overhead lights, looked more like a crypt than a prison.
Damp, cracked walls lined with green patches of moss exuded cold moisture that seemed to seep straight into the skin.
There was no comfort here, no peace, only despair.
All around the vast cell, fear clung tightly to the bodies of the slaves like invisible chains—binding not just their limbs, but their very wills.
Most of them huddled against the edges of the chamber, limbs drawn tight to their torsos as they tried to warm themselves.
Some were completely still, unmoving except for the occasional blink—soulless eyes staring vacantly ahead, their gazes unfocused, as if their minds had long since drifted away from their bodies.
Their expressions were blank, unreadable, yet somehow spoke of pain beyond words, as if death would've been a kinder fate than this slow decay.
"I don't want to die... I don't want to die... I don't want to..."
A trembling voice echoed like a broken record from one of the slaves, his body shaking uncontrollably as he scratched at his scalp, over and over again, nails digging through filthy hair as though he could claw out the terror invading his thoughts.
His voice was hoarse, cracked from dryness, fear, and hopelessness.
No one tried to stop him—none had the strength to care anymore.
Amidst the silence and scattered cries of madness, Jinn remained near the far wall, leaning his back against the cold stone, his legs drawn up slightly.
His body appeared relaxed, unmoved by the chaos around him, yet his eyes were alert and sharp, focused like a hawk.
They remained trained on a single target: the adult man sitting several meters away from him, the one tightly clutching Nevi's necklace in his hands.
Jinn had been watching him for some time now, waiting, calculating.
There would come a time when he'd make his move—but not now, not yet.
Timing was everything.
Ideally, he'd retrieve the necklace without starting a fight.
Hurting someone wasn't the goal—he just wanted what rightfully belonged to his friend.
But something didn't feel right.
Jinn squinted slightly, leaning forward as he studied the man's expressions, his posture, his movements.
There was no hint of malice in his eyes—no arrogance or guilt typical of a thief.
Instead, the man was hunched forward, trembling, his face partially hidden beneath unkempt strands of hair.
His eyes glistened, but not with greed... with tears.
Actual, unhidden tears.
They slid slowly down the sides of his dirt-smeared face, falling onto the necklace he held like it was a lifeline.
His fingers gripped it tightly—not as a trophy, but as though it held something irreplaceable.
"That's... odd," Jinn muttered softly, tilting his head, brows furrowed.
His initial suspicion wavered as confusion crept into his chest.
The man wasn't acting like someone who stole a valuable item.
His grip on the necklace was desperate, and the way he looked at it was too intense, too personal, to be mere theft.
"Why Nevi's necklace…?" Jinn whispered again, blinking as he tried to make sense of it.
Did it remind the man of someone else?
A memory?
A past wound?
Perhaps the necklace resembled something—someone—he once lost.
Whatever it was, Jinn knew then that this wouldn't be as simple as just snatching it back.
There was a story behind that trembling grip.
But even so, he couldn't ignore that the necklace didn't belong to that man.
Sooner or later, he would need to confront him—he just needed to understand the why first.
The prison's temperature began to drop further, as cold winds slipped through the cracks between stones and forced their way into the chamber.
The chilling air slithered over skin like invisible serpents, drawing more shivers and whimpers from the already freezing slaves.
There were no blankets, no fire, not even a torch.
The only warmth was what little they could share with each other.
Jinn leaned closer to Kain, who had huddled beside him for shared heat.
He rubbed his hands together, creating brief friction, but the warmth vanished faster than it came.
The cold was winning.
He shut his eyes for a brief moment to try and rest—body tense from exhaustion and starvation—but his stomach rumbled, loud and angry, demanding sustenance that hadn't come in days.
His eyelids fluttered open again, gaze dimmed by fatigue.
Beside him, Kain sniffled quietly, his nose red, his breath visible in the air.
His body shook in subtle spasms.
Jinn's heart twisted slightly at the sight.
They were both worn thin—frozen, starving, and lost in a place meant to break them.
Then, movement.
*thud! *thud! *thud! *thud!
Jinn's instincts flared the moment he noticed something out of place—shadows shifting across the hallway beyond the cell bars.
*creaaak!
He turned his head, catching sight of multiple soldiers pushing large barrels on wheeled platforms.
Their boots clanked sharply against the stone with every step.
As they stopped in front of each cell, the slaves stirred, lifting their heads one by one in curiosity.
The iron door to Jinn's cell creaked as it was unlocked with a mechanical clank.
The soldiers didn't say anything.
*scrrrrrch!
They simply entered, dragging the barrels with them—large, wooden, reinforced containers that scraped across the floor with an unpleasant screech.
"What are they doing...?"
"What's in those barrels...?"
The whispers began to spread like wildfire, growing louder with each moment.
Jinn narrowed his eyes, suspicious but alert, as the soldiers began opening the barrels one by one.
The sharp creaks of wood being pried open echoed in sequence—
*crick! *pop! *thunk!
until finally, the lids fell off completely.
A scent rushed into the chamber.
Warm.
Sweet.
Rich.
The aroma hit their senses like a drug.
Even Jinn's eyes widened a bit in surprise.
"Is that... bread?"
The word alone sent a wave of realization through the cell.
Every slave suddenly became alive again.
Bones groaned as bodies stood from the ground, eyes wide and breaths heavy.
That scent of baked bread, soft and fresh—it awakened hunger so deep it bordered on madness.
Children gasped in delight, holding tightly to their parents as they sniffed the air with wonder.
"Mama, that smells good!" a little girl cried out, gripping her mother's hand.
The sight of food after days of starvation shattered the stillness—joy and hope returned briefly in the eyes of those who had nearly given up.
A soldier then raised a hand and tapped a device on his wrist.
A series of mechanical clicks followed.
The iron bindings around Jinn's wrists suddenly vibrated before unlatching with a snap.
All around him, the same thing occurred—their shackles came undone, falling to the ground with metallic thuds.
Without a word, the soldiers left.
Silence.
And then—
A stampede.
Hundreds of starving slaves lunged forward in an instant, rushing toward the barrels with desperation in their eyes and gnashing teeth.
It wasn't joy anymore—it was survival.
They clawed, shoved, and yelled, each one fighting to get their hands on a piece of bread before it was all gone.
"Hey, that's mine!"
"Get your filthy hands off!"
"My son hasn't eaten in days!"
"Give it back, thief!"
Chaos reigned.
Kain gripped Jinn's arm, trembling. "J-Jinn, they're fighting—"
"You stay here," Jinn said firmly, rising to his feet, brushing dust off his sleeves.
"I'll get us food."
He scanned the area and spotted a barrel that seemed slightly less crowded than the others.
He darted forward, weaving through the frenzy.
Bodies shoved past him, fists flew, people screamed.
It was like wading through a violent tide.
But Jinn was quick.
Ducking under arms, sidestepping fallen bodies, avoiding flailing limbs—he moved with purpose.
Finally, after a struggle, he snatched one loaf of bread—warm and whole.
He turned, victorious.
But it lasted only seconds.
*THUD!
A brute of an individual suddenly crashed into him, knocking Jinn to the ground.
His hands flailed, his bread falling and rolling away. "Bastard!" Jinn hissed, reaching for it—only to watch the individual smirk and snatch it up for himself.
"Hey! That was ours!" Jinn snapped, but the person was already gone, merging with a group of large insectoid beings—Throns.
The Throns—towering humanoid creatures with thick chitinous skin and massive clicking mandibles—cackled among themselves, devouring their spoils, including the bread Jinn had fought to earn.
"Damned Throns... fucking thieves..."
They'd stolen from others too.
No one dared to fight back.
Their reputation alone—opportunistic, violent, and powerful—was enough to keep everyone away.
But not Jinn.
He clenched his fists, jaw tightening.
"You took our bread, dipshit!" he shouted, marching forward.
The Throns paused.
Then they laughed, mandibles clicking with amusement.
*click! *click! *click!
"What's a little pathetic Rinari like you gonna do?"
Jinn's eyes flicked briefly to Kain—shivering, pale, and hungry.
That was enough.
He planted one foot behind the other, inhaled deeply, and remembered.
He remembered Venedix's speed, her movement, how she dashed at him with perfect precision.
He mimicked her stance, imitated the position of her feet and her posture, channeling that memory.
And then he moved.
Like lightning.
*BANG!
Jinn dashed forward, his synthetic arm pulled back—then drove it through the Thron's abdomen with a brutal punch.
*CRACK!
A loud crack followed by a sickening splat as the Thron's body split open, blood and innards splashing onto the stone wall behind him.
The other Throns froze.
"W-What the—this brat...!"
More gathered around, surrounding Jinn.
Fourteen in total.
Jinn didn't care.
He raised his fists.
His heart pounded with fire, and in that moment, he roared—
"BRING IT, YOU MANDIBLE FREAKS!"