As midnight approached, Eamon and Damien stood near the small tent where Korran and Skarn waited. The night was silent, the air cold, and the forest around them dark as ink. Eamon slowly knelt beside Korran.
"Korran," he said gently, "we're going to the town now… to save your father and brother."
Korran's eyes widened with fear and hope mixing inside them. His voice shook as he asked, "You will bring them back, right? You won't leave them there, right?"
Eamon placed both hands on Korran's shoulders. "Hey… look at me. Yes, buddy. I promised you, remember?"
Korran's throat tightened, and tears formed in his eyes. "I do. I remember. But… I want you two to be safe as well. Please. Don't let anything happen to you."
Eamon smiled softly. "Nothing will happen. We'll be back before you know it."
Without warning, Korran wrapped his arms around Eamon, hugging him tightly as if letting go would break him. Eamon hugged him back with the same warmth.
Damien stood a few steps away, watching quietly, and even he felt the weight of the moment.
After a while, Eamon gently pulled back and walked toward Skarn.
He crouched beside the direwolf, who tilted his head, ears perked.
"Hey buddy," Eamon whispered, stroking his fur. "I want you to protect Korran today. Stay close to him. Keep him safe. And take care of yourself as well. We'll be back soon."
Skarn nodded firmly and let out two soft barks—"Woof! Woof!"—as if saying I understand.
With everything said and done, Eamon stood up, tightened the straps of his swords, and exchanged a look with Damien.
They were ready.
Eamon and Damien then left for the prison.
The prison was in one corner of the town, built like a tall stone giant. On one side lay the sleeping town… on the other, the border where guards patrolled to protect Gorochi's territory. Outside the border, rows of guards stood with spears and lanterns, scanning the darkness.
Outside the prison itself, fifty guards watched the front courtyard. Inside, each of the ten floors had five guards on duty, making the place one of the most heavily guarded structures in the entire region.
Damien took out a small clay pot, filled it with dried herbs, and placed it carefully on the ground behind a cluster of bushes. He lit it with a spark of magic, and pale blue smoke slowly began to rise.
He waited for the smoke to thicken before lifting the pot and blowing the smoke gently toward the border guards. A soft breeze carried the fumes directly to the soldiers.
Within moments, one soldier rubbed his eyes, another yawned hard, and a third leaned against a spear as if suddenly exhausted.
Less than a minute later… thud… thud… thud.
They all collapsed, snoring loudly.
Damien dusted his hands. "Now the outside guards won't come in our way. We only have to deal with the hundred prison guards."
Eamon nodded sharply. "Great. Let's move."
From the border side, the prison building stood about fifty meters away. The back side of the prison had only ten guards patrolling lazily. They were not expecting anyone from this direction.
Eamon and Damien crouched low in the shadows, crept up silently, and then—like a lightning strike—charged.
The guards barely had time to lift their weapons.
Eamon didn't use his Vixterium sword. Instead, he used his regular metal blade to avoid drawing suspicion. Damien drew his sai-daggers, the moonlight gleaming on their sharp tips.
One guard thrust his spear at Eamon.
Eamon swung his sword with incredible force—clang!
The spear snapped cleanly in half.
The guard stared in shock—then Eamon kicked him square in the chest.
The man flew several meters and crashed against the wall with a loud thud.
Even Eamon froze for a moment. "What…? That was way farther than I expected."
But he shook off the surprise and continued fighting, striking down the remaining guards with fast, sharp movements that seemed almost unnatural.
Within seconds, all ten guards lay unconscious on the ground.
The guards at the front didn't hear a thing.
Eamon and Damien slipped inside through the back door.
The moment they entered, they rushed up the stairs to the first floor. Five guards rushed at them in panic.
Eamon moved first—his sword dancing in swift arcs, knocking down anyone in his path. Damien handled the ones that tried to flank them, striking with precise jabs of his daggers.
When the floor was clear, Damien looked at Eamon with raised eyebrows.
"What is up with you today?" he asked. "You seem… stronger than before. Faster too."
Eamon wiped sweat off his forehead. "I know, right? I don't understand it. I just… feel something inside me today. More power. More speed. Like my body is lighter."
Damien smirked. "Good for us. We need that today. Come on—second floor."
They climbed the stairs again and ambushed the guards on the next level. Eamon moved like a shadow, striking swiftly and silently. Damien followed close behind, making sure no guard escaped or made noise.
Floor after floor, they advanced—third, fourth, fifth—never stopping long enough to rest. The deeper they went, the quieter they tried to be.
Because if even one guard from the front side of the prison heard them… they would sound the horn.
And the main army from Gorochi's castle would come rushing in.
So far, luck was with them.
Eamon could feel his heart pounding, not from fear but from that strange strength coursing through him. His strikes were sharper, his movements quicker. Something was happening inside him, but he had no time to think about it.
They reached Level 9. The moment they arrived, both men froze. There were no guards on the floor. Not even one. The entire level was silent, with the torches burning but not a single soldier in sight.
Damien whispered, "What the hell…?"
Eamon's grip tightened on his sword. "This… isn't right."
They exchanged a look. Something was happening upstairs. Slowly, quietly, they climbed the last set of stairs.
And finally, they reached the tenth floor.