Chapter Seven: Chaos
Everyone turned their heads toward the tall man, silently waiting to see how he would react. He stared at the dagger... then at the man lying on the ground... then back at the dagger again. He was analyzing. Processing. Evaluating.
Suddenly, he rose from his chair in one swift motion—like a predator catching the scent of blood. He strode forward and grabbed the man by both shoulders, his voice erupting into a storm:
"Why do you have a dagger, you bastard?!"
The others gasped. Their hearts pounded like war drums. All masks dropped. The silence shattered. The pretending ended.
At that exact moment, Daniel shouted, loud and unwavering:
"Now!"
That word was the signal. The final plan had begun.
It wasn't a reckless plan. It was flexible. Smart. Everyone had agreed back in the cell that the kidnappers stationed in the first circle of the palace were the weakest—almost human in strength.
Based on that, the plan was simple:
If there were one, two, or even three enemies—attack, all at once.
Any more than that—split up and run in different directions.
But humans will always be human... And with Daniel's cry, no one waited.
They ripped off their ropes and charged forward like an unleashed flood, sprinting toward the cart being prepared outside—no coordination, no order.
Logically, they should've attacked the one remaining guard. But logic crumbled under human instinct.
Each of them wanted to survive first.
Amid the chaos of shouting, pounding feet, and confusion—the real battle began.
Three stood their ground in front of the tall man:
Daniel.
Lucas, the one with glasses.
And Caro, the first to don a disguise—a massive figure.
Each held a weapon, standing firm despite their nervous tension.
Everything had happened in a flash. The tall man froze for a second, stunned. His eyes darted from the trio in front of him to those racing toward the cart. His skin began to gleam—glow, even—as if fury had ignited something beneath it. The veins on his face bulged, like old valves bursting open.
He seized the man next to him and hurled him like a weapon at Daniel and the others, roaring with wild, flaming eyes:
"You filthy scum! What the hell are you doing?!"
Then—suddenly—a sharp dagger pierced his right side from behind.
The tall man gasped and staggered. He turned quickly, his skin hardening automatically around the wound. Standing behind him was a man smiling with quiet confidence, his hand still gripping the embedded blade.
But when he tried to pull the dagger out—it didn't move.
The hardening had swallowed the blade, locking it in place.
The tall man screamed in rage.
"Damn you!!"
His veins throbbed like cables beneath his skin. Then, with monstrous force, he lifted the man he was holding and slammed him into the attacker—like a hammer smashing two nails at once.
Both bodies hit the wall like baseballs.
They slid to the stone floor, unmoving.
No one knew if they were alive... or not.
Daniel, Caro, and Lucas—who were closest—rushed to strike immediately. It was a natural reaction after the stab.
But it quickly turned into regret.
The sight they had just witnessed—two men crushed midair—made them hesitate. Reconsider.
Should they run? Should they escape to the cart? Should they live?
But their bodies had already committed.
Their attacks had already landed.
And when their weapons struck the tall man—
Clang!
Shnk!
Shnk!
The sound was sharp and metallic.
His entire body had transformed into living armor.
At that moment, Lucas's weapon flew from his hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud—it had bounced off the armored skin as if it struck a steel wall.
The tall man turned toward them, eyes ablaze with madness.
They each stepped back—just one step—to recalculate.
But time had run out.
Amado, the man with the mustache, stepped forward abruptly. He shoved Lucas—the nearest to him—without warning.
Lucas hadn't seen it coming.
He stumbled, lost his balance, and cracked his head hard against the table.
He dropped to the ground.
Motionless.
Amadou stepped toward the tall man and asked, voice tinged with concern, "Are you alright?"
Daniel and the hulking Caro understood immediately what was happening. They both stepped back, trembling. But Caro — clearly pushed past his limit — panicked. He turned his back on them and bolted toward the carriage, which was already starting to move.
The cart was packed to the brim. Some clung to its sides, dangling as if their very lives depended on it. The scene looked like an escape from the depths of hell itself — the ground around them a metaphorical sea of molten fire, where any fall meant certain doom.
As people fought for a place to hang on, some slipped and fell. A few grabbed the spinning wheels in desperation — only to have their hands crushed. Their screams pierced the air, and they were forced to let go, sobbing in agony and frustration.
The tall man looked at the chaos unfolding before him, then turned his gaze toward Daniel — eyes seething with murderous intent. He drew in a deep breath, trying to endure the searing pain in his side. The shine on his skin slowly faded. He reached back, gripping the dagger still lodged in him, and tried to pull it free.
In all honesty, with everything happening — the confusion, the drunken haze, the speed of events, the relentless pain — he hadn't expected the man who had just saved him moments ago to be the one to stab him next. Even after seeing the other two traitors, he still hadn't suspected it. So when someone reached out to steady him, he didn't resist.
But that... was exactly the trap.
Just as the protective hardening began to fade from his skin, Amadou — the mustached man — lunged from the side, aiming directly for his throat.
Daniel was ready too.
The tall man sensed the danger and tried to harden his skin again — pouring all his strength into it — but it was a fraction too late.
A third of Amadou's dagger sank into his neck before the armor took full effect.
The man's body jolted, stunned. Panic overtook him. The alcohol evaporated from his senses in an instant, swept away by raw terror. He channeled all his mana into the ring on his finger, focusing it entirely on his neck, desperate to reinforce the armor there to the absolute limit.
And in that moment... he forgot about Daniel.
Daniel surged forward with his own dagger, whispering silently in his mind:
(I'm sorry…)
He attacked with everything he had, aiming for the one spot that always brought men to their knees — the most agonizing point of all.
The tall man screamed in agony, a sound torn straight from his soul. His body's armor flickered. The pain broke his focus.
Daniel let go of his own dagger and reached for Amadou's. Together, they pushed.
The hardened skin couldn't withstand the pressure. The dagger sliced clean through the man's neck.
Blood exploded outward, dousing their faces. The tall man dropped like a mountain that had lost its base.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
Lucas — the man with the glasses — slowly stood up, one hand on his head, trying to process what had just happened. His skull throbbed from the blow he'd taken, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the body crumpling before him.
He hadn't expected the fight to end this fast — or this way.
(At last… the nightmare is over.)
A strange sense of calm crept into his chest, as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The biggest obstacle in their escape was now gone.
He exchanged a glance with Daniel and Amadou. The three of them turned toward the cart.
It was about to take off — packed tight with people inside, burdened by desperate bodies hanging onto it from the outside, all clawing for a chance at survival. The cart rocked violently amid a cacophony of screams.
Even the well-dressed gentleman from the day before had lost all composure. He was now wrestling someone else for a spot on the cart like a common thief.
Cries. Swearing. The groans of those left behind...
Every sound made it clear — this operation was no longer a secret. From the moment it began, it had started to fall apart — loudly, violently, and with no turning back.