"You're kidding, Har," George said, half-laughing.
Harian didn't even blink. "Far from it. My life's precious. I fought too hard for it to throw it away just because a few people didn't like me."
The room went still. George's grin faltered. There was something in Harian's eyes a calm, sharp glint that didn't belong to a desperate prisoner. It made George's stomach twist. He'd seen Harian crack jokes, seen him fight, even seen him beaten half to death but never this.
Maybe, George thought, maybe his friend had finally snapped. Maybe this was how madness looked before it bloomed.
He gave a silent prayer in his head. Rest easy, buddy. I'll miss you when they drag you out tomorrow.
"This prison is guarded by Divine Knights," Muliad said coldly. "The man who came earlier was a Holy Grand Knight of the Crown. Your little escape fantasy will burn to dust before it even starts."
Harian's expression didn't change. "That doesn't matter to me."
Muliad frowned. "Why are you so confident, boy? Do you not see where you are? Do you not understand your situation?"
Harian turned his head slowly toward him, eyes sharp and unyielding. "Then tell me this," he said, voice low but steady. "Are you just going to sit here and let your life go to waste? For what? Because someone with power decided you didn't deserve to breathe?"
His voice rose, echoing off the cold stone walls. "You let this system bind you, decide your worth just because you got on the wrong side of the wrong people. And you call that justice?"
The air shifted. Even the torches flickered, their flames trembling in the sudden weight of his words. Other prisoners men who hadn't spoken in days pressed closer to their cell bars, listening. No one dared interrupt.
A seventeen-year-old boy, bruised, starving, and moments from execution, was speaking like a man who'd already seen the end of the world.
Muliad, of all people, was speechless. His usual calm demeanor cracked; his eyes narrowed, studying Harian as if seeing him for the first time.
George, meanwhile, could only manage a crooked smile. "There's seriously something wrong with you, Har," he muttered under his breath. But Harian only looked back at him with that same confident, maddening grin.
"Don't you trust me, George?" Harian asked quietly.
George hesitated, then chuckled. "Of course I do."
He gripped Harian's shoulder, his grin returning bright, foolish, and maybe a little brave. "Even if it means a small taste of life before we die, I'll take it. So…bring it on, man."
Muliad's eyes narrowed. "You talk big for someone who can barely stand. You're just a kid too skinny to even lift a sword, let alone escape this place."
He leaned back, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. "And if you want my help, I hate to break it to you, but these shackles are made of Othril. My Essence was drained long ago."
"Oh," Harian said casually. "So that's what you're worried about."
Harian's grin widened. Slowly. Deliberately.
"What—?"
The torches lining the walls began to flicker, their flames dimming, then twisting in unnatural shapes. A faint hum filled the air, like a heartbeat buried beneath the stone. The temperature dropped, and even the shadows seemed to lean toward Harian.
Muliad's expression stiffened. That presence… It wasn't something a mortal should have.
"These chains," Harian said softly, his voice echoing in the air, "mean nothing to me."
Clang.
The shackles around his wrists and ankles snapped open on their own, the metal groaning before shattering apart completely. The fragments scattered across the floor, ringing like chimes in a storm.
Muliad's eyes went wide. "You… you used Essence!?"
The old man nearly dropped his cane, staring in disbelief. George just froze, his mouth hanging open Then the realization hit him, and he lunged forward, grabbing Harian by the shoulders.
"How!?" George shouted, shaking him. "How the hell did you use Essence!? This shouldn't even be possible! When-when did you!?"
Harian simply looked at him, smiling that same calm, infuriating smile. George stood frozen, hands still gripping Harian's shoulders. His mind raced, his heart pounding. All his life, he'd seen Harian struggle barely able to summon a spark of Essence, coughing blood after the smallest attempt. And now… this?
After everything the strange speeches, the eerie confidence George was no longer just confused. He was scared.
"Har…" he muttered, voice trembling, "what the hell's happening to you?"
Harian's expression softened. For the first time since he'd awoken here, his eyes looked almost gentle. "I know," he said quietly. "You're surprised. So am I." He gave a small, crooked grin. "I'll explain everything once we're out of here. Promise."
George stared at him for a long moment, trying to read his face. He wanted to doubt him, but… this was Harian. His only real friend.
With a long exhale, George finally let go. "Fine," he said, forcing a grin. "But if you start glowing or growing horns, I'm running."
Harian chuckled. "Noted."
Across the cell, Muliad's voice cut through the quiet. "What was that?"
Harian looked over.
"What kind of Essence did you use?" Muliad pressed, eyes sharp. "I've seen mages, knights, priests but never anything like that."
Even the old man leaned forward, curiosity overtaking his fear. "He's right. That wasn't normal Essence. I've never seen othril chains break themselves like that."
Harian paused, his smirk returning. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."
Muliad's gaze hardened. He stepped closer, his tone caught between command and intrigue. "Then tell me anyway."
He smiled small, dangerous, and knowing.
"Fine," he said softly. "But remember you asked for it."
Harian's voice dropped to a whisper, the words smooth and casual. "I used… Void Essence."
At the name, Muliad barked out a laugh sharp, disbelieving. "That's ridiculous. A boy in a cell claiming Void Essence? Ha." His tone flipped quickly, hardening. "Do you understand what you're saying, lad?"
George frowned, baffled. "What's so special about that?"
The old man shuffled forward, eyes gleaming with a mix of fear and awe. "Void Essence is a myth," he said softly. "Of all the materialized Essences of the world, only Void has never been found. The legends say it appears only a handful of times. If this boy claims it… I can see why the noble would laugh."
Harian shrugged one shoulder, unbothered. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."
The moment slackened an uneasy hush settling like dust until the door slammed open again and the loud, familiar voice cut through.
"I leave you rats for one minute and you turn this place into a henhouse!" the guard snarled, dragging his metal cane across the floor with a screech. He stepped into the cell, eyes flicking over the prisoners until they landed on Harian.
Harian's smile shifted. It went cold, feral, and utterly certain. Up close it was the grin of a man who'd already won in a timeline no one else could see.
"Good," he whispered, barely audible. Then, louder but still chill, "I'll show you, then."
As the guard's heavy footsteps echoed closer, Harian didn't flinch. His expression was calm too calm and for the first time, we see why.