His eyes lingered on Razeal. And against his will, he felt a flicker of amusement ripple through his chest.

"My daughter…" the old man murmured, his deep voice rolling like distant thunder. Despite the spikes that pinned him, he smiled faintly as his sharp eyes lingered on Razeal as if waiting for kind of response.

The boy's smile widened in return, his lips curling with mischievous ease. "Oh, I think she'd love to take a little trip with her father," Razeal replied smoothly. "Quite the surprise, don't you think? A gift worthy of her patience. And tell me, what could be better than showing her the most beautiful city in the world.. one so few land-dwellers have ever laid eyes on?"

The words hit their mark. For the first time, the old man's gaze flickered.. not with suspicion, but with interest. A glint lit his dark eyes, the faintest spark of longing buried deep within.

Razeal noticed it instantly. He pressed harder.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice firm and steady, almost brotherly. "We'll go as partners. No chains, no master and servant nonsense. You take care of me, and I'll take care of you. Equal footing, man to man. So…" his smile sharpened. "Are you coming with me?"

Yograj raised one thick brow. His voice carried the tone of a man who had seen countless arrogant youths in his life, who now wished to test this one more thoroughly. "The ocean might be dangerous for my daughter."

"I'll protect her," Razeal replied without hesitation. Not a second of pause, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

The old man chuckled under his breath, amused by the boy's nerve. "And why," he asked, his tone rumbling with challenge, "should I trust you?"

Razeal met his eyes without flinching. His smirk was steady, almost infuriatingly calm.

"Because I gave you my word. She won't be harmed."

The old man tilted his head, studying him. The spikes groaned faintly as his muscles strained.

"And what weight do your words carry, boy? You don't even look seventeen years old not to say.. lost one arm already. You stand here spouting promises like they're iron laws. Why should I take them as anything but wind?"

Razeal's smirk faded into a quiet, calm smile. He spread his only one left hand lightly, his tone casual but unyielding. "It's all about trust, isn't it? I don't ask you for contracts, oaths, or rituals. I trust your words as they are, without proof. Would you want me to demand you kneel under some magical bond just to prove you won't betray me?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a confident whisper. "No. You'd spit in my face for suggesting it. So I offer you the same. Take my word as I've taken yours."

For the first time in years, Yograj fell silent not out of pride, but contemplation. Then… slowly, a grin spread across his lips. His sharp teeth glinted as he chuckled.

"I don't know why," he admitted, voice deep with amusement, "but you're an interesting one, boy." His grin widened into a laugh that shook his chest. "Fine. I'll admit… I'd love to see those strange sea creatures with my own eyes again."

Razeal's smile curved upward, triumphant but subtle. "So you're coming with me, then."

Yograj threw back his head and laughed loudly, the spikes rattling faintly with the force of his body. "Why not? Sounds entertaining enough to me."

"Good," Razeal said with satisfaction. "We've already wasted too much time. And I'll need to pick your daughter up too, before we leave."

At that, Yograj's grin dimmed slightly. He raised a brow, studying the boy once more. "Oh? And how do you intend to do that, hm? You do realize…" his voice grew low and testing, "you'll have to cut through these spikes first." He flexed faintly, the metal grinding as it pierced his flesh, yet not a drop of blood spilled. "Do you know who made them? The very Imperial Empress herself. This Eternal Hold is her creation. Her prison. These spikes were forged with her own hand. You think you can sever them?"

For the first time, genuine curiosity burned in his eyes. He wasn't mocking. He wasn't dismissing. He wanted to see what the boy would do.

Razeal didn't flinch. His smirk sharpened.

"Oh, don't worry about that," he replied smoothly.

From the shadow beneath his feet, a thin blade rose. A sword, but not of ste.. of darkness itself, pure shadow given form. Its edges glimmered faintly like obsidian dipped in starlight.

Yograj's eyes widened slightly despite himself.

"Interesting…" he muttered. "You carry a strange power." His gaze sharpened. "But boy… these spikes are Empress-forged. She is not a woman whose craft is easily undone. Even I.." his teeth clenched faintly as he gestured to his pierced body.."could not break them, and I am no weakling."

His tone carried both trust and a sliver of respect. Even after decades in this hell, Yograj still spoke of her with her full title Imperial Empress.

Razeal only shrugged, rolling his wrist lazily as the shadow-sword hummed faintly in his grasp. "I know." His smirk widened, eyes gleaming with the thrill of defiance.

And then, without hesitation, he moved.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

The sound of slicing air echoed as Razeal's shadow blade slashed in rapid arcs. The strikes weren't wild. They were precise, each blow angled perfectly against the base of a spike. The white chamber rang with sharp vibrations as darkness clashed against radiant metal.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then came the sound.

Grrruuuggglle.

It was not the sound of metal, but of liquid. Thick, viscous, almost alive. As if the spikes themselves bled when cut. Dark crimson fluid burst from the wounds of the prison's restraints, splattering across the pristine white floor. The liquid hissed as it touched the ground, searing it into a deep, spreading red.

Yograj's eyes twitched violently, genuine surprise flashing across his face.

The chamber wemt silently as if the Eternal Hold itself resented the violation. The liquid continued to pour, pooling beneath their feet, staining the once-pure white floor.

Razeal didn't stop. His strikes came again and again, relentless, each one cutting deeper into the Empress's work. His face was calm, his breathing steady, though his white hair clung to his blood-streaked face.

And yeah, Razeal didn't cut the spikes.

Instead, his blade moved with surgical precision, slicing through flesh and bone as though they were no more than cloth.

One leg, severed clean above the thigh where the first spike had pierced. Then the other.

Both arms followed, carved off in swift, merciless strokes.

Blood didn't gush. No scream tore the air. It was eerie.. unnatural. The Eternal Hold was crafted to prevent the natural release of pain and death. What he cut away wasn't only flesh, but the link binding body and spike.

Finally, A perfect circle across the old man's chest. The sword bit deep around the massive spike that skewered his torso, not cutting the spike itself but neatly severing the places where metal kissed skin.

When the last line closed, the old man's body slid free.

Without arms. Without legs. Just a torso, collapsing like a ragdoll freed from its bindings. He hit the ground face-first with a dull thud, his Dark-black hair falling like a wild curtain across the bloody floor.

Even Razeal's expression twitched at the grotesque sight. His blade vanished into shadow with a faint shimmer. He stood over the body in silence, his gaze fixed not on the man but on the horrific remains still impaled high above.

The spikes quivered, holding his discarded limbs aloft like trophies: two muscular arms still tense with veins, two thick legs, and a grisly chunk of chest meat with bone sticking out. A macabre, floating sculpture. The chamber reeked of blood and iron.

"Well it wasn't that hard.. I guess." He whispered with smile. Yet Razeal ignored it. He lowered his eyes to the limbless body sprawled on the ground.

Which well.. he didn't found.

So before he could even think where it went, a low chuckle broke the silence.

"Ohhh…" The voice was rich, rumbling, alive. "You really do know too much about me, don't you?"

Razeal's head snapped to side.

The old man was moving.

First, his back arched. Then, from the clean stumps where his limbs had been cut, flesh bubbled and writhed. Veins coiled like snakes, bones cracked outward, muscle braided itself in spirals. New arms burst forth, followed by new legs.. stronger, firmer than the ones before.

Within seconds, Yograj Molarious stood tall, his chest healed where Razeal had carved, the circular wound sealed shut as if it had never existed. Not a scar remained.

He rolled his shoulders with an audible pop, stretching his arms, flexing his fists. Then he bent forward, touching the ground with his newly grown hands, testing their strength. Finally, he straightened fully, towering like a beast tasting freedom.

It was grotesque. Terrifying. And magnificent.

Even his face, regal despite the decades of imprisonment, looked younger now, the exhaustion of thirty years replaced by a cruel sort of vitality. His lips twitched, curling into a feral smile.

"You even managed to surprise me. Though i never expected this.. How you even though about it.. I mean we just because parteners" Yograj said, his voice rough but carrying a strange joy. "Still, Not bad. Not bad at all."

Razeal's smirk returned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

He glanced once more at the grisly remains still nailed to the spikes above them. The sight was brutal: disembodied parts trembling faintly as though they still remembered life. But he didn't spare them more than a second. His eyes slid back to Yograj, who looked completely reborn.

It was as though Razeal had cut down a corpse only to wake the beast inside it.

Yograj inhaled deeply, spreading his arms. "Ahhh… it feels so damn good to finally move again. Thirty years frozen like a carcass on a wall, and now…" His chest swelled as he exhaled, voice thick with satisfaction. "Now I'm free."

Then, abruptly, he turned his sharp gaze on Razeal. "But don't get ahead of yourself, boy. You cut me down to free from thede, yes.. but to leave this place, it's different. These walls aren't mine to break. They're the Empress's will carved into stone. If you want out, you will have to cut them."

Razeal didn't flinch at the warning. He simply stepped closer, his white hair shifting as the faint breeze of his shadow stirred beneath him. His expression was calm, confident, unshaken by the old man's booming voice.

"Oh, don't worry about that either."

He walked to him before lifted his hand, resting it squarely against Yograj's chest.

The old man didn't resist. He didn't even blink. His lips curled into something between curiosity and amusement, watching what this fearless brat would do next.

"Shadow teleportation," Razeal whispered.

From beneath his feet, the shadows rose, swirling into a perfect circle. The floor darkened as if it had become bottomless, a black well opening to swallow the world. The shadows climbed higher, wrapping around them both like liquid night.

The old man let out a low whistle. "Hohhh… even after thirty years, I'm still finding new tricks I've never seen before. You're full of surprises."

The shadows surged higher. Before consuming them whole.. Before both disappearing Fully.

The remains left behind.. the spikes, the severed limbs, the circle of meat nailed to metal all faded into obscurity.

The chamber, once filled with grotesque life, grew silent.

When the shadows receded, nothing remained. Only the echo of blood dripping from the severed flesh, and the faint metallic groan of spikes left empty.

The Eternal Hold chamber was once again a tomb of white walls.. made never to escape.. Being played by a kid of uncertainty.

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Hey guys, thanks for reading. I swear I worked so hard on this chapter. No electricity here and I'm literally sweating right now… fuck this government. Even the inverters are down.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading, you all. Don't forget about the golden tickets. Honestly, I could've written more today, but I took my mom shopping instead. Got her some gifts and she was sooo happy 😭🤣.

Again, thank you guys. Really love you all. Afterall this is all because of ya all❤️

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