Gerald had spent his last few days making many new friends in the Howling Abyss, where he distributed many of his fresh spell scrolls. Luckily he also had many potions in his storage so he could give them away as greeting gifts to the poor souls locked in there, while simultaneously establishing trust and renewing hope in those already prepared to die.

Even if they didn't want to live any longer, the least they could do was take a few of the guards that used to torture them down with them, right? And they agreed. They wished for nothing but a chance at taking down the swines that ruined their lives.

They were already considered dead men, so why not do some damage before going out in a blaze of glory?

Gerald's words echoed in the minds of prisoners as he appeared before them like a specter. A Crippled Angel of Death some called him. Others referred to him as a Ghost of the Dead. In short, nobody considered him as anything more than an apparition, a figment of their imagination, a proof they were going mad. That was, until they tasted the potions, and held the scrolls in their trembling hands.

Things that they couldn't even dream about were now happening in reality.

When they agreed to help, he would hide the scrolls under a layer of restructured stone in the cell, as well as two small keys in a tiny crack beside them.

One would unlock the Void Cuffs, and the other would be for the iron chains. Then they would regain their magic and could reveal the hiding place for the scrolls, so opening the cell door shouldn't be a problem.

In the end, they would ask him, how would they know when the uprising would take place. The answer would be always the same. "Just listen for the thunder of the storm, that's how you'll know," he would say.

"But we are too far underground," they would answer. "We have never heard the thunder since when came here."

"Exactly. So when you hear thunder… It might be in a few days, or perhaps after weeks, but when you hear it, you will know for certain."

Gerald made himself invisible and flew above the sprawling city. He didn't know the exact location of his target, but surely a large dungeon couldn't be that hard to find. And indeed it wasn't. After a few minutes of searching, he noticed the distinctive black walls of the Howling Abyss, as well as the soldiers patrolling around atop the said walls.

He swooped down like a hawk towards his target, releasing dozens upon dozens of explosion spell scrolls. He bombarded the guards with leaflets, the ones with the 10-second delay timer, and patiently waited.

It was so interesting watching people pick up the pieces of paper in confusion.

"What is this?" one of them said as he caught a few of them from the air.

"It looks like… some sort of a spell scroll?" another added, equally puzzled.

"But where did they come from? I saw them literally appear out of thin air when-"

BROMBOMBOMBOMBOMBOM!

His thoughts remained forever unsaid, and his confusion ended just as quickly as it had begun as the scrolls exploded in a spectacular fashion.

"Great success!" Gerald descended from his observation point and stood in front of the main door into the guard house. Soldiers poured out of it in droves as the explosions attracted a lot of attention.

"We're under attack!"

"Get to your positions!"

The warden started shouting orders and the guards quickly manned the walls, ready to defend against the enemy. Unfortunately for them, the enemy was already in their midst, sneaking into the darkness.

Gerald carefully made his way into the dungeon until he came to the heavy doors separating the prison cells from the rest of the stone structure.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Crash!

The heavy door fell from its hinges, completely destroyed and unrecognizable. It would take quite a bit of time to repair the damage, days at least, if not weeks.

He then made his way backward, towards the surface, going on a destroying spree where he disabled or outright obliterated traps, heavy defenses, and overall ruined the ability of guards to defend against inmates.

It felt good letting loose after having to repress his dark emotions for so long. It was really therapeutic. Perhaps he should open a clinic where frustrated people could destroy stuff. He would surely have many happy customers. Or would they be unhappy?

Those are some deep philosophical questions.

The tremors of his destruction were felt deep into the earth as an earthquake and the sounds of his explosions were akin to distant thunder. Nearly two hundred pairs of eyes opened at the same time in those dark and cold prison cells.

"Thunder…?"

The sign was all too clear. It was impossible to miss it.

"It's time!"

Loud shouts erupted from the usually quiet dungeon as a mass of angry men threw away their shackles, got themselves free from Void Cuffs draining their life away, and took the potions and scrolls that Gerald left hidden in the walls of their cursed homes.

They each touched the cuffs on the outside for a few moments, getting reinvigorated with Mana almost immediately, and stormed along the cold corridor toward freedom.

Gerald left the underground full of smiles, however as he stepped through the door into the guardhouse, a group of soldiers was already waiting for him.

He could almost feel the anger directed at him, despite being invisible.

And indeed they didn't wait long to attack him with unconventional means.

"There's one! Attack!" the warden shouted.

Only then did Gerald notice a layer of soft… It looked like a layer of small cotton particles, or maybe dust? Sawdust? It was honestly difficult to tell. Anyway, he stepped on it without noticing, but the guards did.

"Get him!"

Two of the men hurled a bucket of something toward his direction, and the damn thing splashed all over him.

"Yo! What the fuck!" Gerald exclaimed. They completely covered him with some sort of paint! Now he was clearly visible! For a moment. Then the paint turned invisible as well, however, he didn't care anymore.

The time for a stealthy mission was over and he had to fight! He summoned the Toothpick and craved a bloody path to freedom!

With each swing of his glaive, limbs would fly and men would cry, because they all at that moment realized, they would not leave alive.

It was not ideal to kill all these people, but he had to do it if he wanted to slow down the Empire from attacking Myrtana at its weakest. The corruption of his Soul that came with each death was just something he would have to deal with later.

As he carved his way through the guards and their reinforcements, the prisoners of the Abyss already made their way onto the surface. At the sight of the massacre, many quickly wavered in their wish for revenge as their skin turned pale and sickly, even more than it already was. However, others were imbued with fighting spirit, gripping the discarded weapons of the dead, before charging at the rest of the living.

"Take their gear!" Gerald shouted as the inmates spilled from the underground into the guardhouse. "Spread out into the city, take the scrolls I gave you, and do as much damage as you can!"

They didn't have to be told twice. The political prisoners of the Empire quickly changed their rags for the bloodied attire of fallen guards and soldiers, and then quickly pushed forward, rapidly pushing back their captors and spilling out into the streets.

"Focus on important buildings! Especially the Royal Estate if you can! Burn it all to the ground!"