Time had lost all meaning in the Pit. By Thrall 7249's best estimation, he had spent nearly two months in the underground prison, though it could have been longer. His body had grown leaner, hardened by the harsh conditions and meager food, but his mind had expanded in ways he never thought possible under Mentor's tutege.

  As more fragments of his human memories surfaced, a growing restlessness seized him. The Pit, which had initially been his unexpected sanctuary, began to feel increasingly confining.

  "You're distracted today," Mentor observed during their meditation session. The old demon could read his pupil with uncanny accuracy.

  "I can't stay here forever," Thrall 7249 replied, opening his eyes. "There's too much I need to see, to understand."

  Mentor nodded slowly. "I've been waiting for this moment. The true test of any teacher is preparing students to eventually leave." He adjusted his position, bones creaking with the movement. "What do you have in mind?"

  Thrall 7249 had been mapping the Pit meticulously in his mind—every crack in the walls, every variation in the stone, every pattern of guard appearances when food was delivered. During his time in the underground prison, he had also carefully observed the other inhabitants, understanding their routines and territories.

  "The food delivery creates our best opportunity," he expined. "The hatch opens for approximately twelve seconds—enough time for someone small and quick to climb out if properly positioned."

  "The guards would notice immediately," Mentor pointed out.

  "Not if they were distracted." Thrall 7249's eyes gleamed with determination. "I've been practicing the light spell you taught me. If I can create multiple light sources throughout the Pit during a delivery, the sudden illumination in this darkness would temporarily blind anyone looking down."

  Mentor's expression remained skeptical. "And if you succeed in getting past the hatch, what then? The sve quarters are heavily guarded, with overseers at every junction."

  Thrall 7249 smiled faintly. "Before I was sent here, I created a network of informants throughout the compound. I've memorized the guard rotations, identified the blind spots in their patrols. There's a three-minute window during shift changes when the eastern corridor is completely unmonitored."

  The old schor raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "You had already been pnning an escape before the Pit?"

  "Not actively, but I always collect information. It's become instinct." Thrall 7249 shrugged. "Knowledge is power, as you've taught me."

  "Indeed." Mentor stroked his chin thoughtfully. "And once you're beyond the sve quarters?"

  This was where Thrall 7249's pn became more tentative. The sve compound was all he had known in this life, despite his growing memories of Earth. The outside world—the vast territories controlled by demon nobles, the seven kingdoms he had only heard about—remained an abstract concept rather than a lived reality.

  "I need to find somewhere to hide initially," he admitted. "Somewhere I can continue developing my abilities while learning more about this world. If I stay near poputed areas, I'll be recaptured immediately—a half-demon with a sve colr isn't exactly inconspicuous."

  "The Boundary Wastes," Mentor suggested after a contemptive silence. "The disputed territories between kingdoms where authority is fragmented and patrols are sparse. Many outcasts and fugitives find refuge there."

  "How would I reach these Wastes?"

  "Head east from the main compound for approximately three days. You'll know you've reached them when you see the Splintered Mountains—a range that looks as though it was shattered by some massive impact. The area beyond is wless, dangerous, but retively free from systematic searches for escaped sves."

  Thrall 7249 absorbed this information, adding it to his mental map. "What about the colr?" He touched the metal band encircling his neck—the unmistakable mark of sve status that would betray him to anyone he encountered.

  "That presents a more significant challenge," Mentor acknowledged. "The colrs are designed to be removed only by overseers with special keys. Attempting to break one typically triggers pain wards that can incapacitate or even kill the wearer."

  "But there must be a way," Thrall 7249 insisted.

  The old demon hesitated, then lowered his voice further. "There are rumors of a craftsman in the Wastes—a former artificer who specializes in disabling sve colrs. They say he was once a master runesmith before falling from favor. If such a person exists, finding him would be your best hope."

  "Do you have a name? A location?"

  "Only whispers. They call him the Keyless Smith. He supposedly resides near the Obsidian Falls, on the northern edge of the Wastes." Mentor's expression grew grave. "But understand this—even if you find him, removing a sve colr doesn't erase the magical tracking embedded in your essence. High-level magisters can still sense escaped sves across considerable distances if they're specifically searching."

  Thrall 7249 frowned. "So I'll never truly be free?"

  "Freedom is retive," Mentor replied. "Distance and certain magical barriers can weaken the tracking connection. And the truth is, most escaped sves aren't worth the resources required to hunt them across kingdoms. Unless you've particurly angered someone powerful..."

  The memory of Lord Drazeth's humiliation during the failed Blood Bond fshed in Thrall 7249's mind. He had indeed made a powerful enemy, one who might take his escape as a personal affront.

  "I'll have to risk it," he decided. "Staying here means certain death eventually." He looked around the dimly lit cavern. "No offense to your hospitality."

  Mentor chuckled dryly. "None taken. I've survived here because I had no greater purpose awaiting me outside. You, I suspect, have a different destiny."

  Over the next several days, Thrall 7249 refined his escape pn with obsessive attention to detail. He practiced controlling his demonic energy to create the light distractions, timing the duration and intensity for maximum effect. He memorized Mentor's directions to the Boundary Wastes, mentally rehearsing the journey countless times.

  He also prepared physically—rationing his already meager food portions to create a small reserve for the initial journey, practicing moving in complete silence, and strengthening his muscles through exercises Mentor recommended.

  "What about supplies?" he asked the old demon. "I can't exactly walk out of here with a pack full of provisions."

  "You'll have to scavenge," Mentor advised. "The sve quarters themselves offer little, but the noble living areas contain abundance. If you can access the kitchen storage during your escape, a small amount of concentrated food could sustain you for days."

  "Entering the noble areas increases the risk of capture exponentially," Thrall 7249 pointed out.

  "Survival often requires calcuted risks." The old schor's eyes gleamed. "Or have I failed to properly instill that lesson?"

  Thrall 7249 smiled. "Point taken."

  As the pnning progressed, he found himself sharing more details of his emerging memories with Mentor. The old demon listened with fascination to descriptions of Earth—its technology, social structures, and cultural concepts entirely foreign to the demon realm.

  "Your perspective gives you a unique advantage," Mentor observed. "You see possibilities where born demons see only fixed traditions. The caste system exists as much in our minds as in actual physical restrictions."

  "Yet the physical restrictions are very real," Thrall 7249 replied, touching his colr again.

  "Yes, but overcoming physical barriers begins with believing they can be overcome." The old schor leaned forward. "That's what truly makes you dangerous to the established order—not your potential power, but your potential ideas."

  Three days before his pnned escape attempt, a complication arose. Food deliveries, which had followed a reasonably consistent schedule, suddenly changed pattern. The hatch opened at irregur intervals, sometimes twice in quick succession, other times with extended gaps.

  "They're changing the routine," Thrall 7249 observed with concern. "Perhaps they suspect something."

  Mentor shook his head. "Unlikely. More probably, there's been a change in personnel or policy above. Such things happen periodically."

  "It undermines a key element of my timing," the half-demon worried. "I was counting on predictability."

  "Then you must adapt. Preparation is important, but flexibility is essential." Mentor fixed him with a steady gaze. "No pn survives contact with reality unchanged."

  Thrall 7249 nodded, adjusting his strategy. Instead of waiting for a specific time, he would need to remain in constant readiness, positioned near the hatch whenever possible without drawing attention from the other inhabitants of the Pit. This reduced his rest time but increased his chances of capitalizing on an opportunity when it arose.

  On what would turn out to be his final night in the Pit, Thrall 7249 sat with Mentor in their usual alcove. A comfortable silence had settled between them—the quiet understanding of teacher and student who had transcended their initial roles to become something closer to friends, despite their age difference.

  "I want to thank you," Thrall 7249 said finally. "Without your guidance, I would have remained ignorant of my true nature and potential."

  "You give me too much credit," Mentor replied. "I merely helped you access what was already within you. The human soul inside your demon body creates unique possibilities."

  "Still, I owe you a debt I can't repay."

  The old schor shook his head. "If you insist on thinking in terms of debt, then repay me thus: Survive. Learn. And perhaps, when you've gained enough strength and knowledge, help create a world where knowledge isn't restricted by caste."

  "I won't forget you," Thrall 7249 promised. "If I ever gain enough power and influence, I'll find a way to free you from this pce."

  Mentor smiled sadly. "A kind thought, but unnecessary. This Pit has been my home for nearly four decades. I've built a life here, such as it is. My purpose has been to pass on what I know to those who might use it." He pced a bony hand on the boy's shoulder. "You are not the first student I've sent into the world, though you may be the st, given my age."

  "What happened to the others?"

  "Some died trying to escape. Others succeeded but disappeared into the vastness of the demon realm. A few, I like to imagine, found pces where they could live with some measure of freedom." His eyes took on a distant look. "One day, perhaps, you'll encounter each other—former students of the forgotten schor of the Pit."

  Thrall 7249 tried to imagine these predecessors—other sves who had sat where he now sat, learning forbidden knowledge from this remarkable old demon. It gave him a sense of connection to something rger than himself, a lineage of resistance against the rigid constraints of demon society.

  "There's one more thing I should tell you," Mentor said, his tone becoming more serious. "Something I've observed during our training sessions that you should be aware of."

  "What is it?"

  "Your demonic energy has an unusual quality—something I've only read about in ancient texts. When you channel it, particurly during our meditation exercises, it creates patterns that resemble what the old schors called a 'system structure.'"

  "A system?" Thrall 7249 frowned, the word triggering something in his human memories—games with numerical attributes, skills that could be improved through experience, abilities that unlocked at certain levels of advancement.

  "Yes. Before the Sundering that split the demon realm into seven kingdoms, there existed magical constructs—artificial intelligences of sorts—that could bond with compatible souls. These 'systems,' as they were called, enhanced the natural abilities of their users, providing structure and acceleration to their growth." Mentor's eyes gleamed with academic excitement. "They were thought lost during the cataclysm, but perhaps some fragment has found its way to you."

  Thrall 7249 wasn't sure what to make of this information. It seemed fantastical even in a world of demons and magic. "Why would such a thing attach to me?"

  "Your human soul may have unique resonance patterns that attracted it. Or perhaps..." Mentor hesitated. "Perhaps whatever entity facilitated your reincarnation included it intentionally."

  The idea that his presence in this world might be part of some rger design was both unsettling and oddly comforting. It suggested purpose behind the suffering he had endured as a sve.

  "How would I know if I had this... system?"

  "Legend says it typically activates fully during moments of extreme stress or at certain age thresholds. If you possess one, it likely remains dormant or only partially active." Mentor smiled faintly. "Something to anticipate, perhaps, in your future journey."

  Their conversation continued te into the night, covering final preparations and contingencies for the escape attempt. When they finally parted to rest, Thrall 7249 felt a mixture of anticipation and sadness. Tomorrow might bring freedom, but it would also mean leaving behind the first being in this world who had truly seen him as something more than a sve.

  As he y on the hard ground, drifting toward sleep, he mentally reviewed his escape pn once more. The route through the sve quarters, the timing of guard rotations, the path to the Boundary Wastes—all clear in his mind. Yet beneath these practical considerations ran a deeper current of thought.

  Mentor believed he might have some greater purpose in this world. His human memories, still fragmented but increasingly coherent, gave him perspectives no native demon could possess. And now, the suggestion that he might carry within him some ancient magical construct—a "system" that could accelerate his development.

  For most of his life in this world, Thrall 7249 had focused solely on survival. Now, as he prepared to leave the Pit and venture into the wider demon realm, he found himself considering possibilities beyond mere existence—purpose, change, even revolution.

  Tomorrow would be just the first step on a much longer journey. With that thought, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to rest, gathering strength for the challenges ahead.