Lying on the ground, Oscar coughed and spat out the dirt in his mouth, struggling to breathe properly. A pungent scent, a nauseating rotten smell, stopped him from breathing regularly from his nose, and the iron taste of the blood in the dirt was sickening, his stomach churning to force a fierce rejection in vomit, but he held it in and waited for his chance. From the corner of his unburied eye, only a spread of pale eyes from corpses greeted him, their blood long since drained into the earth, hence the revolting taste of the dirt.

He was half-buried in a war-torn battlefield, surrounded by the corpses of his allies and enemies. During his invasion of the Burning Valley, he forced himself to become acquainted with the harrowing scenes of cursed grounds left over by the wake of battle. But he couldn't get used to it, the unblinking faces of anguish welcoming him to join them. Unable to bear it any longer, he closed his eyes and waited for the enemy to scope the remains.

Soon, heavy footsteps splashed around, squishing what sounded like bloodied mud, and then a series of thuds followed after. Oscar opened his eyes. People garbed in red uniforms and green uniforms, the Undying Flame Sect and Thousand Storm Palace had arrived, piling the bodies of their fallen Exalts onto large containers. Like a group of scavengers, they rummaged through the dead bodies of his allies, taking everything from space pockets to armaments.

"A survivor!" One of them shouted, and a whole group rushed, targeting their weapons at the poor fellow. The man was injured and was missing an arm, but he raised the other one to indicate his surrender. Binding him in restraints, the enemy pulled him away to the side. One by one, they found more survivors, all injured and dirtied, and arrested them, lining them up on their knees under the watchful eyes of others.

"Another one!" It was his turn. Oscar limped his body and groaned, allowing the pain from his slight self-inflicted injuries to take over, slight but compounded by his slackening display. Rough hands gripped his shoulders, digging their fingers into his skin without any care, and pulled him out of the ground. Oscar coughed and pretended to wake up.

"Get up!" The soldier who dug him out tossed him out of his ground and kicked him in the stomach. Oscar pretended to choke from the vice grip on the back of his neck and got up on wobbly legs.

"I surrender…." Oscar raised his hands before he was quickly restrained and followed the soldier to the group of other survivors. Still pretending to be tired and weak, he glanced over the group and faintly smiled for a split second. Fred and Emily were among the gathered, along with several other men and women. The soldier hit him behind his legs, forcing him to kneel on the ground like the rest.

Under the threat of the enemy troops surrounding them, the survivors continued to kneel and remain silent. An hour later, the enemy gathered and moved the large containers of loot and them. Bound in chains linked to each other, Oscar and the other prisoners marched along the enemy and were hoisted onto an airship. Loud turbines screeched until they buzzed like bees, and the airship lifted itself, heading away from the battlefield.

A commanding officer stomped toward them and pulled up a chair. As he sat, he snapped his fingers, and his soldiers carried a box containing vials of bright liquid. "Drink this and answer our questions! Any lies or defiance will be met with a swift death."

Everyone drank the vials and was asked many questions. Oscar recalled the basic information he was taught about these frontlines and answered what he knew. As a Greater Knight Exalt, he knew the enemy expected him to have more information, so he gave the intel Remulus had carefully selected for him to use to get past this interrogation. The intel was all true, but not the kind that would be a detriment to the Pavilion if they prepared in advance.

After everyone was questioned and interrogated, the commanding officer smiled and shouted, "We set out for Rurin Gaols first! These prisoners need some reeducation."

For the next few days, Oscar ate little. These bastards played it right and constantly placed them in a state of near starvation to weaken them. Some soldiers came by to eat scrumptious meals right before his face, and others leered at the captured women before the commanding officer waved them away, whispering something into their ears to send them away. Oscar grew curious about what the commanding officer said and strained his ears to listen each time it happened.

"You'll ruin their reeducation. Afterward, you can do what you want."

Oscar twitched his ears and pondered in solemn silence, his brow tensing up from the danger of the commanding officer's words. This reeducation alarmed him. He couldn't help but think something was wrong. His eyes followed the commanding officer as he retreated into the airship.

"We've arrived at the Rurin Gaols!" One of the crew members shouted.

Oscar turned and beheld the prison, the Rurin Gaols, where his master was imprisoned. Oddly, the prison was on flat ground, surrounded by a square metal wall, and a long building stood in the center of the courtyard, sticking out like a sore thumb. The airship descended, and a thin film of Ein passed through his body. Sweat broke out over his body, and his breathing became choked, a ragged gasp wheezing air into his throat. Thick moisture enveloped him, and his clothes clung to his skin.

A rough environment suffused the Rurin Goals. No doubt, the breaking of the prisoners started the moment they got on the ships. Starting with starvation, entering the heavy, humid air of the Rurin Goals, and ending with what other horrors may lie inside were good methods. Already, several of the other survivors groaned, moaned, and fidgeted around, drooling as they dropped to the floor.

The airship landed inside the prison grounds, and the soldiers forced Oscar and the other survivors, delirious or not, onto the rough courtyard, not at all gentle in their handling. The prison guards approached, clad in very thick armor from head to toe, and Oscar questioned how they maintained their sanity wearing that in this cruel air.

"We shall take it from here. You may go now." The one in the distinct armor with gold lining addressed the commanding officer and ordered his men to take Oscar and the rest. Forced to comply, Oscar walked with the others into the lone building and tilted his head, puzzled by the room's emptiness. Gears clacked and clanged clearly, and the room rumbled as a part of the floor split open, revealing a path below.

"Welcome to the Rurin Gaols." The prison guard in distinct armor chuckled. "If you wish to live well, comply with our rules and obey what you have been ordered to do. Inside this prison, your life is not your own."

The guards forced them to walk down the steps. Oscar was forced into a room, stripped bare, and cleaned by a downpour of cold water. Grating, sharp winds dried him, and he was given new clothes: a simple white shirt and white pants, no pockets. Walking barefoot, Oscar entered a small room with the others and felt himself going down a long shaft. The room clicked into place, and the doors opened. The guards directed a number of them to exit, and they continued their descent. Finally, it was Oscar's turn. Countless eyes greeted him. Groups of similar people in white clothes stared at them; they were the current prisoners. Many of them were eating off trays.

In a single line, he and the newcomers were called up one by one to receive their cell numbers. Oscar received his and roamed into the mess hall. With vigor in their eyes, some prisoners nodded to him; he noted they were probably still recently imprisoned folks. The troubling part was the others who mumbled listlessly, spilling some food on their shirts, their hair growing wildly from their head and faces. Oscar knew these were the oldtimers who had been imprisoned here for years.

'They're already broken in a way.' Oscar spoke to Erden through their mental connection.

'Pavilion Master asks you to scope out the place. He's already shocked to know that the prison goes underground.' Erden responded. The other reason for him being the best person for the job was not only due to the Reis but also the connection to Erden, allowing him to relay information instantly.

'Tell the Pavilion Master I'm on the third level.' Oscar went past the mess hall to look for his room. The first time the room opened, all the old Apprentice Exalts exited, the second time was the Elite Exalts, and the third was him and the other Knight Exalts. 'If we're correct, my master is on the fourth level. How are the other preparations?'

'Going well. They can make their deadline. The concern is you. Pavilion Master says to give it your best and break out without Draven if necessary. Erden replied.

'Fred, Emily, and I will do our best.' Oscar stopped talking to Erden. He stood before an open cell room and walked inside. Loud snores tremored the air. A blanket rose and fell from the large mound on a bed. Oscar ignored the snoring man and studied the room, finding zero vents or panels.

"Damn. I hate underground prisons." Oscar tapped the walls to find a weak spot, but only a dull sound of solid rock responded.

"Who's making that racket?!" The sleeping man screamed, standing up. The prisoner grabbed the blanket over his face and pulled it out. He cracked his knuckles and snarled at Oscar, "Who the hell are you?"

Oscar inhaled and sighed, cracking his shoulder by rotating his arm. "I forgot. It's been a while since I was last in prison. I have to beat everyone else down, right?" He raised his fist and took up a stance. To impede fear, he switched with Demon, and a chilly expression took over.

"Kneel, you bastard." Demon spat on the man's clothes.