Chapter 126 - Inheritance of Giants

  For a long moment, Adam just stared at the child, at the trembling fingers clutching that worn, dirty cloth like it was his last anchor to sanity. The soft divine glow still flickered from the old fabric, pulsing faintly as though responding to the boy's fear. Adam had expected resistance, confusion maybe, but not this. Not this unwavering belief from someone so young, so clearly broken, that the very goddess he blamed for everything might still be his salvation.

  Adam exhaled slowly and turned his head toward the others behind the bars, hoping to catch some sign, some reaction—but their expressions were unclear. They hadn’t heard what the child had said. Angela looked concerned, Katya curious but tense, and Vaelric simply confused. None of them could help here, so this one was entirely on him.

  His fingers flexed slowly at his sides, tension coiled into his shoulders. He didn’t like this. Not because of the situation or the danger—it was the child. Adam wasn’t used to them; he had barely interacted with any child after finishing school, recently only with Emir, and even then, it was usually over something technical.

  Children were unpredictable, fragile in ways that couldn’t be measured. And this one… this one was a giant child, not even fully aware of the scale of what he held onto. Still, Adam crouched low, trying to make himself smaller, less threatening despite the strange and unsettling appearance he now carried. He spoke carefully, gently.

  “Hey… I’m not here to hurt you.”

  He said, voice steady. The child flinched slightly but said nothing.

  “I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. That wasn’t my intention. I just… I saw that cloth in your hands and thought it might hurt you. I’ve seen what divine energy can do. It doesn’t always help. Sometimes it changes you when you don’t want it to.”

  He continued. Still, the boy wouldn’t meet his gaze. His arms tightened around the cloak like it was his only shield from the world.

  Adam inhaled through his nose, thinking fast. The boy was scared, clearly traumatized. He couldn’t just ask him to trust someone who looked like he did. No child would. Especially not after being locked away in a glowing cage, surrounded by divine wards, alone, and grieving, so he tried again, softer this time.

  “I don’t know what happened that day. I wasn’t there. But I believe you when you say your parents were saved. I believe that someone heard you. And maybe… maybe that was Arianka. Maybe it really was a miracle.”

  The child blinked, just once, but the trembling eased slightly. Adam pressed on.

  “But… if it’s alright, I’d like to know more about it. Not because I think it’s bad or because I want to take it from you. I don’t. I can see it means something important to you… and I want to understand why. That’s all. I want to know what you saw. If that warmth you mentioned is still there, then maybe it matters more than I can tell just by looking at it.”

  He let his voice trail into a calm pause, his expression patient.

  The boy shifted slightly, still silent. Adam hesitated but then did something he rarely allowed himself to do—he dropped his guard fully. He sat down, cross-legged on the floor right there in front of the child, exposing his chest and hands, showing no hostility at all. The scars and strange marks along his arms—evidence of what he’d endured—were visible in the light.

  “You know… At first, I thought knowledge was everything. Books, systems, logic—if I could just understand enough, I could solve anything. That’s what I believed. That everything could be figured out, explained, broken down into parts.”

  His tone softened as his gaze returned to the boy’s eyes.

  “But I’ve seen things since then… I’ve met people I never expected, gone through things I never could’ve prepared for. And little by little, I’ve realized that the world is bigger than what I used to believe. Sometimes there’s more than just what makes sense on paper.”

  He leaned forward slightly, not pushing, just reaching with his words.

  “So I’m not here to argue with you. I just want to understand. If you say that cloth helped you… then I think there’s a reason for that. I’m not here to tell you what to believe. I just want to listen. If that’s okay.”

  There was a long pause. Then, the child’s grip loosened just a little.

  “You’re… not like them.”

  He whispered, voice small, hoarse from days of silence. Adam’s head tilted slightly.

  “Like who?”

  “The human in white. They all yelled. They said that some demon gave me false hope. Said the cloth was cursed. But I could feel it. The light… it was warm. It wasn’t like theirs.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “They tried to take it from you?”

  The boy nodded, pulling the cloth closer again.

  “I didn’t let them.”

  Adam let silence sit between them for a few seconds, then nodded slowly.

  “I won’t take it either. I promise. But maybe… can you show it to me? Just show it. You don’t have to let it go.”

  Another pause… Then, slowly, hesitantly, the giant child extended the cloth just far enough for Adam to see the symbol etched into it. Arianka’s crest, unmistakable, but dulled—distorted slightly, as though it had been copied from memory and not crafted in purity. It radiated divine energy, yes, but not the same kind that surrounded this place. It was gentler yet faint. It didn’t press against the mind.

  Adam’s eyes narrowed. There was something different here. Something genuine. And the system didn’t react with any warning, no sign of corruption or parasitic threat. Not like before.

  “You said you prayed, and she answered? Maybe… maybe there is something here, maybe you are right.”

  The child nodded quickly, tears returning to his eyes. Adam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He looked at the others again, raising a hand to signal that things were okay. Then he turned back to the boy.

  “What’s your name?”

  He asked quietly. The child hesitated, wiping his eyes with the edge of the cloth.

  “…Mughal.”

  Adam nodded once.

  “Alright, Mughal. My name’s Adam. I’m here to find out what happened. And if that cloth helped you once, I won’t take it away. But I do need your help now.”

  Mughal looked at him, confused.

  “Help?”

  “Yes. I’m trying to understand the truth about this place. About what happened to your people… If it’s not too much to ask, can you please tell me why you are here? I want to help.”

  The child looked down at the cloth in his hands. Then, slowly, he nodded.

  Adam leaned in slightly, keeping his tone calm as he asked the first of many questions that had begun to build in his mind.

  “First of all, Mughal… how long have you been here?”

  The giant child sniffled, still curled up against the far corner of the cell, but his voice came out clearly enough.

  “Not long. Just a few days.”

  He said, eyes never quite meeting Adam’s.

  “The men in white brought me after they stopped my uncle’s army. He… he thought we could take Uldroth back.”

  His words were scattered, shaped by the rawness of childhood, but Adam understood well enough. The failed attack by the giants had been recent, and this boy had been captured afterward. Mughal shifted slightly, his large fingers adjusting the cloth still wrapped tightly in his arms.

  “They took everyone else to the big cages below… but me, they brought here.”

  Adam frowned, confusion settling over him like a weight.

  “Why would they bring a child to a battle like that in the first place?”

  There was a silence, a long pause that said more than words. Mughal lowered his head.

  “Because I’m old enough. For us, I mean.”

  He explained, his tone flat, not defensive—just stating fact.

  “And… maybe they thought I would help somehow. That if they saw me… he could....”

  But before he could finish his sentence or Adam could say anything more, the entire prison chamber shook violently beneath their feet. The stone walls trembled, dust falling from above as the air itself felt momentarily heavy. Adam stood up immediately, looking toward the ceiling as instinct tensed every muscle in his body.

  “What the hell was that?”

  He muttered aloud, scanning for any sign of danger. Mughal whimpered, clutching his cloth tighter. Then, softly, his lips began to move in prayer—not loud, not frantic, but steady and sure. And to Adam’s growing shock, the cloth in the boy’s arms began to glow.

  The light that emerged from the cloth in the giant kid’s arms shimmered faintly at first, then grew brighter and steadier, forming a clear, translucent layer of warmth around the child’s curled body. It was unlike anything Adam had felt in this scenario so far. The divine energy he’d sensed up until now had been strong, heavy with something weird beneath its surface—but this… this was different. It was clean. It radiated comfort, not oppression.

  It was genuine in a way that defied the strange corruption infecting everything else. Adam narrowed his eyes and slowly stepped forward, watching the light with growing suspicion but also curiosity. He had no idea how long this divine reaction would last or what consequences it might bring. Mughal’s lips were still moving in prayer, quietly, reverently, as though each word drew the light closer. Adam hesitated only for a second more before acting. He reached out carefully, trying to make contact—not to tear the cloth away, not to interrupt the boy’s moment of solace, but just to confirm something.

  The instant his fingertips made contact with the glowing air surrounding the child, pain exploded up his arm.

  It wasn’t the dull, heavy discomfort he’d grown used to enduring when around the paladin’s divine energy. This was direct and sharp. A burning jolt that tore through skin and muscle like liquid flame. He gasped and jerked his hand back on reflex, clutching his forearm as the pain lingered like an angry echo.

  When he glanced down, the tips of his fingers were already darkening, blistering at the edges. Not imagined, nor metaphorical, but a real, physical burn. He hissed softly and pulled the hand toward his chest, inspecting the damage while keeping one eye on Mughal, who hadn’t reacted to the moment at all. The boy was still huddled beneath the divine veil, eyes closed, body trembling in silent prayer. Adam’s mind raced.

  What he had touched just now… that was real divine energy. The complete opposite of the twisted divine presence infecting Drake or leaking from the grand temple nearby. There was no doubt about it. That energy—pure, gentle, and radiant—was the real thing.

  It was divine energy in its most traditional form, unaltered and undiluted. And the fact that it had burned him told Adam everything he needed to know. His cursed nature, his undead lineage, made him naturally vulnerable to true divinity. Whatever power had shielded the child had come from something authentic. His mind raced, but he forced himself to push the spiral of speculation aside. Now wasn’t the time to untangle the theological implications. There was still a terrified child in front of him, and the faint tremors running through the ground were a clear sign that whatever was happening above them was getting worse.

  Adam took a breath, then stepped closer again, this time stopping just outside the radius of the light.

  “Mughal, please listen to me.”

  He said, lowering his voice and trying to keep it steady. The boy didn’t move. Adam’s hand ached, but he ignored it.

  “I’m not here to hurt you. I told you that. I’m not like the paladins who locked you in here. I want to help you. I want to take you to the others—the giants. The ones they captured. They’re in the cells below. If we move now, we might still have time.”

  The prayer didn’t stop. Adam bit his tongue, forcing himself to keep his tone soft even as anxiety tugged at the back of his mind. Something big was happening outside. He didn’t know what, but he knew the longer they waited, the worse things would get.

  “You said you trusted Arianka, you said she heard you once, when you needed her most. I’m not trying to take that from you. I just need you to trust me, too. Just a little. I want to understand what happened. But first, we need to move. If we stay here, we’re both in danger. Do you understand?”

  Still nothing. The light around the cloth pulsed again. Adam’s teeth clenched. He hated this. He hated trying to talk sense into children. He wasn’t good at it. He never had been.

  His experience with Emir was a strange exception—most of the time, he didn’t even remember the boy was still technically a kid. But this… this was a real child. One that had seen war. One that had prayed and witnessed something miraculous and had clung to it ever since. Adam’s voice grew firmer but not harsh.

  “I know what you saw back then was real. I believe you. I believe something answered your prayer. And I think that matters. But right now, Mughal, I need you to stop praying. Just for a moment. Please. We don’t have time.”

  Mughal finally opened his eyes.

  There was a flicker of uncertainty there. A small glimmer of recognition in the way he looked at Adam—not with fear, not anymore, but with hesitation. His lips stopped moving. The golden light held for one second longer, then dimmed, and finally faded entirely. The warm shield vanished. The cloth no longer glowed. And Mughal, for the first time, shifted toward Adam willingly, pressing the cloth to his chest like a child with a beloved blanket.

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  “…Okay, I’ll come with you.”

  He whispered. Adam exhaled sharply and stepped forward again, this time unimpeded. The pain in his hand remained, but so did the clarity in his thoughts. Whatever had just happened, whatever power had surged from that cloth, it wasn’t something he was ready to explain yet—but he knew they couldn’t leave it unexamined. He turned back toward the gate, signaling to the others outside. It was time to move.

  Adam's urgency mounted as he led Mughal toward the cell's iron bars, the young giant crawling behind him with evident apprehension. Upon reaching the barrier, Katya's sharp voice cut through the tension, her gaze narrowing as she took in the unexpected scene.

  "Why is the child still with you!?"

  She asked, tone clipped.

  "Didn't you get what you came for?"

  Adam didn’t pause as he inspected the cell’s large divine lock.

  "There's no time. Something's happening outside; you all felt it too, right? We can’t afford to stand around."

  However, Angela stepped in before he could try breaking the lock himself.

  "Hey, stop! Let me handle it first. Just wait."

  With a graceful hand movement, she summoned her usual paintbrush, energy beginning to drip from it like radiant paint. She made quick, practiced strokes in the air, the shapes forming until they resembled a little key with stubby legs and flickering wings. When she finished, the shimmering object solidified and zipped unsteadily toward the lock, flapping clumsily as it bumped against the metal until it finally slipped inside and, after a few turns and clicks, the heavy lock popped open.

  Adam was curious about her ability, but there wasn’t time. They needed to move. He gestured toward Mughal to follow and pushed the door wide open. The young giant stepped forward, standing tall for the first time in days. What had seemed like a cramped figure crumpled in a cell now stretched into something much larger than expected, his full height easily towering over the others. The ceiling barely accommodated him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He looked more relieved than anything else.

  The group didn’t linger. They hurried through the corridors as the tremors grew more frequent and violent, dust drifting from cracks above them and faint booms echoing through the stone. Reaching the large stairwell, they hesitated only briefly before descending. The steps were too large for normal humans, clearly built with giants in mind, so navigating them required a bit of creativity.

  Vaelric, trying to maintain his usual grace, missed a step and nearly tumbled face-first, saved only by Angela, who caught him with a smirk and a shake of her head.

  “Watch your footing, vampire prince.”

  She muttered as he straightened up, brushing himself off with a scowl.

  Further down, Mughal almost tripped over Katya, who had paused to glance back at the corridor above them, muttering about how this whole place felt like a divine oven. Adam led them onward without answering, his focus locked on the hallway ahead, steps echoing with a sense of urgency as the rumbling continued to grow.

  The heavy air that had settled around the group after their descent into the prison chamber remained still as their eyes adjusted to the sheer scale of what stood before them. Towering iron cages brimming with divine energy stretched toward the ceiling, each filled with the imposing forms of imprisoned giants. Even wounded, shackled, and fatigued, there was a raw, untamed presence to them—massive bodies slumped in pain, blue-tinged skin marred by cuts and bruises, yet eyes still burning with indignation.

  Most of the giants were seated or lying against the walls, their massive hands clenched into trembling fists, and despite their injuries, none of them gave off the aura of submission. If anything, their glares sharpened the moment they noticed the approaching humans. A low growl rumbled from one of the cells, followed by a guttural shout that echoed like thunder.

  “Humans! Vermin in white and vermin in shadows—you dare enter this place again?”

  The words came in a broken version of the common tongue, but the fury behind them was unmistakable. Another giant joined the roar, slamming a massive, wounded fist against the bars.

  “Get out! Begone with your lies and your false light! Kill us already if you're gonna ridicule us more!”

  The noise grew, fueled by rage, echoing down the chamber like a tremor. Adam stepped forward quickly, arms half raised in a gesture of peace, trying to shout above the growing clamor.

  “Wait! We’re not here to hurt anyone—we’re not like the paladins. Please, just listen—”

  But his voice was swallowed by the fury boiling over from the cages. It was clear they weren’t hearing him. They weren’t going to hear anyone. He turned quickly to Mughal, who stood just behind him, wide-eyed but steady.

  “Mughal, you have to talk to them. You’re one of them. They’ll listen to you. Please.”

  Adam said firmly, his voice low but urgent. The kid hesitated, looking toward the towering figures in the cells ahead. Then, slowly, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, standing as tall as he could despite the visible tremble in his limbs. His voice cracked at first, but when he spoke again, it rang out clearer.

  “Uncles! Brothers! Please stop shouting—it’s me!”

  The effect was immediate. The noise didn’t stop all at once, but it faltered, like a wave breaking short of the shore. A few giants leaned forward in disbelief. One squinted hard through the dim light.

  “Mughal? That voice—”

  “Yes!”

  The kid called again, louder now, placing both hands against the bars.

  “It’s me! I’m safe! These people—these humans—they free me. They’re not like the others!”

  Silence began to settle, not comfortable, but enough to open the space for the words to linger. Then, from the farthest cell, a deep, raw voice carried across the chamber like the groan of shifting stone.

  “Mughal...”

  Everyone turned. The voice didn’t need to raise itself. It carved through the quiet on its own. From the shadows of the last cell emerged a figure so massive that even the other giants looked small in comparison. He was broader, scarred all over, and his long mane of iron-grey hair was matted with dried blood. Dozens of unhealed wounds slashed across his arms, chest, and back. A makeshift bandage wrapped one leg but barely held together the damage beneath. Yet despite it all, the giant stood tall, using nothing but the iron bars to support himself. His eyes, wild and sunken from exhaustion, locked onto the boy.

  “Uncle Thalgrun...”

  Mughal whispered, stepping toward the voice. The towering figure staggered forward, then stopped, swaying slightly. His fists trembled—not with rage, but with something closer to disbelief. Then, unexpectedly, tears rolled down the creased, bloodstained cheeks of the Giant Chieftain.

  “You’re alive.”

  He said, his voice cracking for the first time.

  “I thought I’d damned you, like the rest of them. You never should’ve come with us. I knew you weren’t ready. I knew—but I hoped... I hoped you might help him remember.”

  Adam blinked, confused. He stepped closer to the cell where Thalgrun stood gripping the bars like a man holding onto the last thread of purpose.

  “Help who remember?”

  He asked cautiously, his voice calm and measured.

  “What are you talking about?”

  But Thalgrun didn’t answer. His gaze was locked on Mughal, his lips moving silently in some private prayer or regret too heavy for words. The silence hung again, but now it was charged—tense not with hostility, but with uncertainty. Angela finally broke it. She stepped beside the young giant, her voice softer than usual.

  “Mughal, who are you talking about?”

  She asked gently. The boy looked down for a moment, holding the cloth in his arms tighter. Then he turned his gaze upward and said, almost reluctantly.

  “My father... is Groz’mar. The Stonefather Chieftain. Leader of the giants.”

  Adam took a half-step back, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected that. Katya’s expression froze mid-thought, and Vaelric exhaled slowly through his nose. Even Angela’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Mughal didn’t look proud. He didn’t puff out his chest or smile. He just looked tired—like a kid who hadn’t been allowed to cry in years.

  Adam didn’t know what to say. The revelation that Mughal was the son of Groz’mar, the Stonefather Chieftain, echoed in his mind like a hammer striking stone. It wasn’t just the implications of the boy’s bloodline—it was the pattern. First Vaelric, now Mughal. Two descendants of the ancient rulers of their respective races, both imprisoned, both isolated, and both rescued by just sheer luck. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? The odds were absurd, almost laughable, and yet here they were. A descendant of the vampiric empress and now the heir to the lineage of the giant chieftain.

  Was it part of some grander plan? Was the system weaving threads he couldn’t see? The description of the hidden subplot suddenly came to his mind… However, he didn’t have time to dwell on it as the ground rumbled violently beneath his feet, stronger than before.

  The stone overhead let out a long, echoing crack that silenced every thought in his mind. Debris tumbled down in chunks, dust billowing through the air. Another tremor, more forceful still, followed a breath later. Pieces of the ceiling began to break and fall. There was no more time. Adam looked toward Thalgrun, raising his voice over the rising din.

  “What does the giant's leader have to do with all of this? What did you mean by hoping Mughal would help him remember? Remember what?”

  Mughal shifted nervously but stepped forward.

  “I-I don’t really know, not everything, but when the men in white came, my father protected us. He got hurt real bad. I cried a lot and prayed and... that’s when the cloth came to me. It made this light that I used to help him. And he got up again. He stood up and kept fighting. He yelled at everyone to run. Told us to save who we could.”

  He said, his voice small but clear. Thalgrun growled low, then added, his tone unexpectedly respectful as he glanced toward Adam.

  “You may not believe us, but know this, noble humans. In our culture, family is everything. We fight and die for our blood. I thought my nephew was lost, and yet here he stands—alive because of you. I won’t forget it, so I will answer your questions.”

  He leaned against the bars, his injuries still obvious, but his posture unwavering.

  “I was there when Groz’mar was struck down by a paladin. Not just any paladin. A small one with long silver hair and red eyes like nothing I’ve seen. He used blood. His own blood. He fought like a cursed shadow given life, carving through giants like a scythe through wheat. My brother, Groz’mar, tried to stand his ground, but something strange happened... he hesitated. Just for a second. Then, the paladin struck again. And that light... that cursed light, it forced itself into him. He screamed—screamed like a beast in agony—and then he turned on us.”

  No one spoke. The sound of stone cracking again overhead was the only answer for several long seconds. But Thalgrun continued anyway.

  “He attacked me. His brothers. His kin. That light—whatever it was—consumed him. He regained just enough of himself to scream for us to flee, to get away. We couldn’t reach him again. The paladins pushed us back. We lost the battlefield. We lost our chieftain. And for years now, we’ve hidden, scattered.”

  Angela looked shocked, Katya was wide-eyed, but Vaelric—he muttered something under his breath.

  “Silver hair, red eyes... and used blood as a weapon?”

  His face paled.

  “That’s...”

  He trailed off, lips moving silently, connecting pieces no one else had yet seen. But he didn’t get a chance to finish. A deafening crash thundered through the chamber as the ceiling cracked again. A boulder-sized chunk of stone slammed into the floor not far from Adam, sending dust and debris flying. That was it.

  “Move!”

  Adam shouted and, in the same breath, cursed energy erupted from his back, twisting into form as two massive, translucent arms surged upward like phantom limbs made of shadow and smoke. They emerged through him, ghostly constructs belonging to his Demon-type ghost, half-visible and unnaturally silent as they soared into position. With a violent impact, the spectral arms slammed into the fractured ceiling, spreading their clawed fingers wide and anchoring themselves like immovable supports. The stone groaned as the weight pressed down, dust and debris spilling around the edges, but the ceiling held—barely.

  Adam stood firm beneath the strain, jaw clenched as the pressure of holding up the collapsing structure reverberated through the spiritual tether that connected him to his summoned limbs. It wasn’t his body that bore the load, but the energy drain was real—and he could feel it beginning to take its toll.

  The giants all stared, stunned by the sudden emergence of something that looked more like their own blood than any human paladin's weird magic. But Adam didn’t care about the reaction.

  “Get them out! Get them out, now!”

  He shouted. Katya didn’t need to be told twice. She reached behind her and pulled her summoned scythe into reality—long, jagged, and twitching like a living thing—and spun once, bringing it down in a vicious arc that sliced clean through the divine-forged bars of three cells, the golden divine metal shrieking as it split.

  Angela acted just as fast, flicking her wrist and drawing her now-familiar paintbrush into her hand. In a blur of movement and streaks of glowing pigment, she crafted another one of her living keys—this one larger than the one she used before, with a more ornate design—and launched it toward the massive lock of Thalgrun’s cage. It hovered uncertainly, then dove forward and clicked into place. A few seconds passed. Then the lock snapped open with a loud, clean crack.

  “Go!”

  Adam bellowed, holding the collapsing ceiling with every cursed ounce of strength he had. The divine structure strained and groaned above him.

  “The paladins aren’t coming yet—we need to be long gone before they do!”

  He knew there was a chance to escape; either the paladins were all still reunited somewhere, or they were dealing with whatever was causing such tremors. Thalgrun stared at him, then at the others. For a moment, pride clashed with practicality, but then he growled and barked in his own tongue—a guttural order that echoed through the cells. The remaining giants, wounded and uncertain, responded without hesitation. One by one, they forced themselves upright, limping toward the newly opened cells, dragging each other along, some using chains as makeshift supports.

  “Once we’re outside, we run. I’ll decide where to go then. If my brother still lives, then I will find him, no matter what he’s become.”

  Thalgrun said through clenched teeth. Adam nodded once.

  “That’s all I needed to hear.”

  The ceiling above cracked one final time. Dust rained down. And then the first giants crossed the threshold. The heavy groan of stone and divine metal pressing down echoed like a warning bell as the spectral arms Adam had summoned trembled under the weight. The ghostly energy holding the structure aloft pulsed with strain, but the boy held firm, forcing every drop of cursed power to maintain the makeshift support.

  One by one, the giants began to pour out from their cells—some limping, some clutching wounds that hadn’t yet closed, but not a single one hesitated or looked back. Even Thalgrun, with half his chest wrapped in crude cloth soaked with blood, marched forward with clenched fists and teeth grinding in effort. The chains that once held him groaned as they were undone, and though he leaned briefly on the wall for balance, he never stopped moving. His massive figure was the last to pass through the now-open gates of the prison wing.

  Above them, the structure groaned again, shedding dust like falling snow, and Angela, Katya, Mughal, and Vaelric remained in place, unable to move. Their eyes flicked between the shuddering ceiling and Adam, who stood beneath it like the anchor of the world, his ghostly arms still pressed upward in defiance of collapse.

  "Lord Adam! I will not leave you like this!"

  Vaelric said, his voice heavy with panic and resolve, stepping forward as if ready to rush to his aid. However, Adam turned his head sharply, his face calm despite the obvious strain.

  "That’s an order!"

  He said, his voice cutting through the dust-thickened air.

  "Get them out of here. I’ll be fine. Just go."

  The vampire lord hesitated, visibly torn between loyalty and obedience. His hands curled into fists, but after a moment’s pause, he nodded once—sharply—and turned away. Katya, still clutching her scythe with both hands, cast Adam a long, unreadable look before following the others. Angela was the last to move, her eyes lingering a moment longer as if trying to memorize the position of every cracked stone above his head. Then she too vanished into the darkness behind the others, her footsteps hurried, echoing away up the stairs.

  When Adam was sure no one else remained, he finally allowed the breath to escape from his lungs in a long sigh. The ceiling trembled violently above him, and he released the spectral arms at last. With a deafening roar, the prison roof collapsed. Chunks of divine stone, steel-reinforced beams, and sacred metal shattered the space he had just stood in.

  But Adam had already vanished… In the final instant, he activated [Spectral Mist Step], and his form dissolved into an ephemeral cloud, a haze of cursed vapor that flowed effortlessly between the gaps of falling debris. The chunks of holy stone passed through his body without resistance as he glided low and fast, reforming again halfway up the corridor behind the destruction.

  Without pause, he sprinted up the winding stone stairs. Every step he took echoed like the pulse of urgency in his mind. The others had already gained distance. He forced his body to move faster, ignoring the sting of exertion, passing wall after wall, his senses wide open for any hint of danger. By the time he reached the first floor and darted down the now-empty corridors, he could see a faint shimmer ahead—the unmistakable presence of sunlight streaming through the exit.

  But as his foot crossed the threshold out of the sacred prison and into the half-ruined plaza outside, the first thing that greeted him wasn’t air or voices… It was a scream.

  A massive figure collapsed in front of him with a thunderous crash—a giant, blue-skinned and still bleeding, falling backward as two beasts tore into him. The creatures were not human, not animal, but something in between—wolf-like forms made entirely of blazing light, their muscles twisting like fire given shape, their eyes hollow and burning, their claws piercing through the titan’s flesh with vicious ease.

  They looked eerily similar to Adam’s own Feral-type ghosts, but corrupted in reverse—where his were shadows made solid, these were light twisted into form, wearing armor like the paladins themselves, white and gold plating shimmering over radiant bodies that had no skin, no fur, just the concentrated glare of something holy turned violent.

  The battlefield beyond was a nightmare. Dozens of the escaped giants had formed a broken ring, defending what positions they could. A few human foot soldiers, seemingly not aligned with the beasts, were also fighting for their lives, swinging swords desperately or casting wards that shattered on impact. There was no formation—only chaos, only survival.

  Adam barely had time to take it in when he heard a familiar voice shout from the side.

  “Adam! Move!”

  Drake’s urgent voice echoed from somewhere amidst the smoke and bodies, bringing him back to the now.