The first logical step is to find out where exactly I am in the barracks.

I make my first move, walking out of the holding room and entering a corridor. The flame of burning torches hung on the wall illuminates the small space. There is no sign of Melissa, but it is difficult to pinpoint where she had gone. It’s difficult to understand how the barracks work when it doesn’t make sense when compared to the modern—as in, real-world police stations. It would seem that the barracks also house prisoner complexes and services, but I hadn’t seen one yet after what feels like hours’ of walking silently.

I scratch my head as I turn a sharp corner, wondering if this corridor will end.

A black screen hovers near me—which I deduce is brought up when I raised my hand—and I instinctively tap on it. Knowing about it going to fail won’t stop me, but I’m still disappointed when it shudders and stays blank. I sigh.

Where’s the deus ex machina here? If we go according to how most ‘anti-hero’ plots go, I, the protagonist is in a very dangerous and unfair situation. So, this will make me either hate the world or hold a sense of very different morality from normal humans. Usually, they also have some kind of undiscovered power that makes them really overpowered.

Let’s see here… no tutorial, bad start, might have to prematurely end my tenure here in this world… I’m in a bad situation alright. Okay, moving on… I hate Elgia, I hate these guards and I don’t want to be a hero… okay, I hate the world and have my own sense of morality.

Where’s my undiscovered power?

I stare at the blank Game Menu.

“Fucking bullshit!” I yell, punching the Game Menu.

The Game Menu shudders as if mocking my exasperation.

Calm down, Sung Jae.

I collect my thoughts once more.

Where’s the spatial manipulation that the bitch mentioned earlier? What could that spatial manipulation mean? Does it mean that the holding room—and maybe this maze of corridors—is within a different space?

That seems plausible. From what I know about spatial manipulation—well, strictly speaking, what I know from anime, comics, and movies, spatial manipulation should refer to a change in a ‘space’, which can be in a different dimension or within the same. If this whole area is within a totally different space…

I’d have no way of getting out.

Or do I?

If I’m in a totally different space, then I must have come through a ‘door’.

I met the floating woman before I came to Elgia, which means I was in a totally different space—but hell, I reckon that I was in a wholly different dimension from Alnd. I stepped through a portal and came to the dimension that holds Alnd, thereby reaching Elgia. In the same vein, I must have stepped through a portal to enter this holding area if there was spatial manipulation.

If that’s really the case, where’s the portal that I supposedly stepped through?

Is there a gap in my memories that I’m unaware of?

With each question that I ask myself, I feel my heart rate rising. I quickly take a deep breath, regaining my composure. I inhale and exhale again, feeling a wave of calmness wash over me in after a few moments.

Let’s start the thought train again.

If I retrace my steps from the mess hall to this holding area, I can only vaguely remember turning a corner after exiting the mess hall. I was held by Melissa, led down a corridor and I somehow reached here… which means somewhere, I must have stepped through a portal. Otherwise, why would this dimly lit corridor seem like a strange, unfamiliar place?

Then that would mean only one thing, but I have to confirm this. The only way to do that is to go down all the corridors and see where they take me.

I sigh, knowing how much gambling I’ve done. Maybe my undiscovered power is luck in adversity? I guess that’s a neat power, but frankly, I’d rather not have adversity at all…

Once more, I exhale deeply, wondering if I’m ever going to see the light of day again.

***

It has been several minutes.

I turn left, walking down a corridor looking exactly the same as the previous one. It is still devoid of life with neither guards nor prisoners to be seen. I can hear the faint crackle of flames on the torches along with the echoes of my coughs when I clear my throat. My heart beats faster, pushing me to pick up the pace and do a brisk walk.

The texture of the bricks vary, but they are all similar to touch: cold, hard and rough. The coldness of the holding area also seems to be similar. Yet, the flames still burn, albeit lacklustre in its dance atop the oiled paper.

“Jesus, how long is this going to go?” I say, thinking out loud.

I wonder if there are surveillance cameras—or magic, to put it aptly—in this world. Perhaps, some sick fuck is looking at me through them, laughing my desperation to escape the area. Perhaps, I’m being watched, and the reason that nothing is happening is that they wanted to give me a chance to escape, just so they can take it all away when it seems that it is within grasp.

“I’m overthinking,” I say, literally shaking my head to shake off those thoughts.

Calm down, Sung Jae, you can do this.

It’s funny. Why is there such a corridor built if everyone can just use spatial manipulation? The bitch said that it’s one-way for me, which means that I can probably only enter this area but I can’t leave this place at will, unlike here.

Which doesn’t make sense!

This might support my hypothesis.

You need light if you can’t see in the dark, that’s a given. So, in this medieval world, there isn’t any lightbulb, so a torch is used. You burn a torch to light the way before you, holding it while you go down whatever path you’re going down. If you see torches on the wall, you will burn them too, just so you can see better with more illumination.

Torches don’t burn indefinitely. They’ll definitely give off exponentially less light over time. The torches that I’ve seen are all giving off dim lights, barely lighting up the corridors.

Since these torches are hanging on the walls, then these torches are meant to guide. The holding area is meant to detain and keep criminals on death row, so that means they aren’t meant to guide the criminals. It’s the other way around.

It’s to guide people to the criminals.

Then why is there this corridor then?

That bitch of a guard mentioned that it’s a one-way trip for me. That must refer to the portal and not the holding area! Since they are sensitive to magic, they are most likely allowed to use magic because of that existing sensitivity. Which means they can freely enter and exit this holding area since they can detect the portal that will allow them to do so.

I have been thinking wrongly!

Her way of putting it makes it seem that everyone in Elgia has an aptitude for magic. In all likelihood, the guards are most likely able to use magic in different degrees.

What if, there are people who can’t use magic?

It’s completely plausible—though it’s only because I don’t know the history of Alnd or Elgia. But let’s not think of that. I’m going to assume that my conclusion is right.

If that’s the case, what if there’s a guard—or just someone, in general, who’s responsible for the holding area that doesn’t have any aptitude for magic? Or at least, it’s so weak that he can’t even use the portal that supposedly connects the mess hall to this holding area?

Then, that means this corridor is meant for those who don’t have magic! I need to confirm that...

Shit! Doesn’t that mean this might lead to somewhere real?

If that’s really the case here, then I might have a chance after all, albeit slim. What if everyone in Elgia can use magic? What if spatial manipulation is a basic magic skill? What if this world works differently from all the novels that I’ve read before?

What if…

“Fuck!” I say, clearing my thoughts instantly. “I can’t think negatively now."

I take a deep breath, calming myself.

There’s only one thing left to do now: walk faster and clear the corridors as soon as I can.

While clinging on to that sliver of hope I forged in my head, my footsteps seem to become lighter and the corridors seemingly growing shorter. After a few minutes of brisk walking, I find myself tugging at my coat, pulling it closer. I take a deep breath and exhale, realising that I can see my breath. I exhale again, watching it in fascination.

“It’s this cold…” I say, breathing against my palms, warming my hands.

Wait, why is it getting this cold?

From what I remember, below four feet, the temperature is likely to stay around 10 degrees Celcius—but I’m in Elgia, so will this matter? I guess it roughly applies…

It’s freezing.

I look up, realising that the torches are getting dimmer, some of them doused by droplets of water dripping from the walls. I quickly retrace my steps, grabbing a torch with my right. I grab another one with my left, extinguishing the flame against the wall, then grasping it tightly, turning it into a short, most likely ineffective, wooden club.

If not for the crackle of flames, the walk would’ve been deafeningly silent and the corridors would’ve been shrouded in darkness. The claustrophobia-inducing walls do not help in this situation, making me take my steps with caution, my paranoia going full blast as I look behind every ten seconds or so.

Fuck, I regret watching horror movies back at home.

I raise my torch, extending my hand as far as I can, revealing a sharp right turn. The shadows from the walls spread their shrouds onto the corner walls, fading away as my torch reaches them. I stare into the darkness as if looking into the abyss, my heart beating faster with each second of doubt and fear.

I gulp.

“You can do this, Sung Jae,” I mutter, repeating the sentence over and over again in my head.

I take one step forward with the tip of my torch pointing into the darkness. My grip on the club tightens with each step. My footsteps get heavier as my breath becomes shallower and quicker. My heart beats faster as I give cursory glances at the walls. In my head, I pray, wishing for the flames of my torch to burn brightly so as long as I’m walking.

Then, the sigh of the wind.

I’m blind.

Pitch-black.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck!

Holy fuck!

I take a few steps, not knowing what I’m stepping on and where I’m going. Am I facing the right way? Where am I going? Why am I here? Where’s the exit? Is something in the darkness? I’m going to die, right? Where the fuck am I? Shit!

Shit!

I’m panicking. Calm down. The darkness isn’t the thing that will kill you. If there’s something in the darkness that will kill me, so be it. Right now, I need to escape from the bitch and her captain who will definitely chop my head off if they found me. Either way, I’m going to die, I might as well take this small little chance.

No, the darkness is most likely because of there is a lack of use. The corridors are unused, that’s why the torches aren’t replaced. That’s why it’s not illuminated. There’s nothing to be afraid of. This is within the barracks! How can there be anything here?

With that reasoning in my mind, my heart rate drops, slowing down to a comfortable rate. I wonder how many years of my lifespan were shaved off just now.

“Okay. Let’s move.”

With renewed vigour, my steps become light once again and I hurry down the corridor. My steps echo, the soles of my boots tapping noisily on the brick floor.

Ping!

“What’s that?”

Instinctively, I move my hand a few inches from my hip. My unlit torch hits against something, shocking me for a moment. I realise it’s the Game Menu.

“Fuck, why is it out?”

I ignore it and quicken my pace, breaking my brisk walk and going into a walk-jog sort of movement. I then realise that I could’ve gone back to grab another torch, but it’s too late. I turn around, realising that only darkness is behind me. My heart rate shoots up again and I turn back, making a short dash.

Then, about a few hundred metres away from me, a small orb of light appears, hovering in the air.

I squint, realising that it’s not an orb.

“It’s an exit.”

***

“Are you serious?” Gillard says.

He’s usually calm and collected. During a battle, his companions have mentioned that just the mere presence of him calms them down, forcing them to judge their situation objectively without adrenaline coursing through their veins. Due to that, Captain Gillard is hailed as a sort of demigod and lucky charm, sought after by many battalions intending to replace their own captains with him.

It’s the first time Melissa saw Gillard this angry. Standing up from his chair, hands gripping against the table so tight she can see him exerting strength, crushing the wood slowly underneath his fingers. Splinters of wood zip across the air as his grip tightens.

Melissa gulps, wondering if this is the same Captain Gillard, yet at the same time she understands his anger; she shares the same sentiments as her vice-captain.

“That’s what he said,” Melissa says, her head looking down on the floor. “You have to come. He doesn’t want to spill any information if you didn’t go. He only wishes to talk to you.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s at the death-row holding areas.”

“You… left him there? Is he bound?”

Melissa gulps again, realising how stupid she was when she made that decision. Why did I leave him there? Couldn’t I have brought him here with me? Why did I choose to do that?

She sighs. “I apologise, Captain.”

Captain Gillard releases his grip on the table, then exhaling deeply.

“No matter. Right now, the priority is to get to him. I don’t expect him to be waiting in the cell quietly, so he will most likely explore the vaults.”

“I’m sorry, Captain.”

“Don’t apologise,” Gillard says, walking up to Melissa and gripping her shoulder.

Melissa feels her heart rate gradually slowing down and her breaths deeper and slower.

“Bring a few men with us.”

Melissa raises a brow. “Huh? Why? Aren’t we only catching one man?”

“Have you not been to the catacombs?”

Melissa shakes her head. “No, I haven’t.”

“You’ll understand when we get there, but right now, I don’t have time to explain to you. We have to hurry. Gather the men in a few minutes and we’ll leave to fetch him.”

“In a few minutes? That’s… that’s so fast! I don’t know if anyone is in a mobilisation-ready mode right now.”

Captain Gillard gestures for Melissa to follow.

“We have to hurry… if we’re not there quick enough…”

“He might die.”