When the guard finished his round and climbed back up the stone stairs, the echo of his steps slowly faded until it disappeared completely.
For a few seconds, the metallic sound of his sword striking the bars continued to resonate in the prisoners' memory, as if the corridor itself refused to forget his presence.
However, when the heavy door above finally closed, silence returned to the prison.
It was not a peaceful silence; it was one charged with something that had been growing for far too long.
In the darkness of the cells, the demi-humans remained still, but their eyes no longer reflected the same resignation as before.
Hunger was still there, exhaustion too, and the wounds covering their bodies burned with every movement. Yet something different was forming among them.
Rage.
A deep rage that had been buried under weeks, months, perhaps years of humiliation.
For too long they had lived as shadows inside those cages, breathing the same rotten air and waiting for the day someone would buy them like animals.
They had watched friends die, brothers die, mothers die. They had seen bodies dragged down the corridors or simply abandoned on the floor until someone decided what to do with them.
But in that moment, as silence covered the place, many of them slowly began to raise their heads.
Their gazes met in the dimness.
There was something in those sunken eyes that had not been there before.
Determination.
Because, for the first time in a long while, the idea of dying there felt more unbearable than the possibility of dying fighting.
They were not animals.
They were not merchandise.
They were living beings.
Beings who had been born, who had loved, who had had families and homes before everything was taken from them.
And above all, they were beings who still wanted to live.
One of the demi-humans stood up slowly. His legs trembled at first, weakened by hunger, but he still managed to stay upright.
His breathing was heavy, and on his face old scars mixed with recent wounds could be seen.
He looked at the others.
Then he spoke.
His voice was hoarse, but it carried a strength that pierced the entire cell.
—Today is the day.
The murmur running through the prison died instantly.
—None of us is going to die in this filthy place.
His words floated in the damp air of the dungeon.
—Today we will rise to the surface… and fight for our freedom.
For an instant no one answered.
Then another demi-human stood up.
Then another.
And one more.
In a matter of seconds, almost all the prisoners were on their feet.
Exhaustion had not disappeared, nor had hunger. Their bodies were still weak, but inside them burned something far stronger than fear.
A shout rose from among the cells.
Then another.
And soon, they all shouted at once.
A roar that had been trapped in their throats for too long.
Among the shadows, some began to draw small improvised knives they had hidden for weeks.
They were rusted blades, sharpened metal fragments or weapons that had belonged to other demi-humans who had died before them.
Many of those knives had been made in secret, filing metal against stone night after night.
They were the last relics of those who were no longer there.
The demi-humans approached the bars of their cells.
And they began to strike them.
The sound of metal against iron echoed throughout the corridor.
Once.
Again.
And again.
Some used the knives to try to weaken the joints of the bars, others struck with their own bodies.
The noise began to grow, spreading through the entire prison like thunder trapped underground.
Above, the guards heard it.
Alarmed voices began to sound on the surface.
—What the hell is going on down there?
—Get down now!
Boots began to descend the stairs quickly.
When the first guards reached the corridor, what they saw froze them for a second.
The doors of several cells were already open.
The demi-humans were outside.
Standing.
Waiting for them.
Their hands held knives stained with their own blood, because many had cut themselves while trying to break the bars. But none seemed willing to retreat.
A roar full of rage swept through the place.
The guards reacted immediately.
—Kill those damned animals!
Spears were raised.
Swords gleamed under the torchlight.
The demi-humans also prepared.
And then the clash happened.
It was brutal.
The first guard barely had time to raise his shield before a demi-human lunged at him with a wild scream. The improvised knife pierced the space between the plates of his armor, and both fell to the ground rolling.
More guards advanced down the corridor.
Spears pierced weakened bodies, but even run through, some demi-humans kept advancing as if pain no longer mattered.
Screams filled the prison.
Steel clashed against metal, against stone, against flesh.
One after another, bodies began to fall.
Blood spread across the stone floor, forming pools that reflected the flickering torchlight. It looked like red rain slowly expanding through the entire corridor.
In one of the cells that remained closed, the two brothers watched the battle.
The younger boy clung to the bars with trembling hands, while his older brother kept his gaze fixed on the corridor.
They didn't know who would win.
They didn't know if those fighting would survive.
But they knew something had changed.
Suddenly, a blow shook one of the nearby cells.
The sound was so loud that even the combat seemed to pause for an instant.
The bars bent outward.
And then, a figure emerged from the cell.
He was a tall demi-human, broad-shouldered and tense-muscled. Unlike the others, his body still retained strength.
He had been captured recently, and hunger had not yet fully consumed him.
His eyes burned with wild fury.
A guard charged at him with sword raised.
The demi-human did not hesitate.
He advanced head-on and delivered a brutal punch with his fist.
The impact was so strong that the guard was hurled backward. His head struck the stone floor with a dry sound, and his skull split open like a ripe fruit.
Blood and fragments scattered across the ground.
The demi-human roared.
It was not a simple shout.
It was the roar of a beast that had finally been released.
He bent down and tore the sword from the dead guard's hand. With the other hand he took the shield, raising it in front of his body.
Then he charged back into the fight.
The guards coming down the stairs barely had time to react.
The sword descended once.
Then again.
A guard fell.
Then another.
The demi-humans, seeing that, felt a spark of hope ignite inside them.
The battle grew even fiercer.
Bodies piled up on the floor.
The prison began to look like a slaughterhouse.
When the last guards in the corridor finally fell, the demi-humans stood there, breathing heavily.
The floor was covered in blood.
But the fight had not ended.
Because now… the path to the surface was open.
And the true battle was only just beginning.