They pressed deeper, past the grim, grey warden quarters and the dilapidated shed behind it. The final wall, a towering barrier between them and freedom, loomed ahead. Just like before, they scaled it, Juro's ascent punctuated by a torrent of screams and flailing limbs. But as he hung suspended in the air, a horrifying panorama unfolded beneath him: the prison was ablaze, a raging inferno, and hordes of inmates ran rampant, their screams mingling with the desperate shouts of guards struggling to regain control.
This time, Juro landed on his feet, though the impact still jarred him. He spun, grabbing Samura by the collar, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "What did you do? How did you ensure we met no trouble on the way?"
"I'll explain later. We need to move!" Samura retorted, wrenching himself free. But Juro wasn't letting go. He yanked Samura back by his shirt, hissing, "No, you'll tell me now!"
Seeing the futility of argument, Samura relented. "I possess four magical attributes: Blue Flames, Wind, Black Flames, and Spirit magic. I used Black Flames in the bathhouse to conjure illusions of the inmates' worst nightmares. I needed to get close to a guard, but they were too wary. If I kept trying, they'd grow suspicious. So, I used the bathhouse occupants to lure the guards in. But they didn't allow anyone close; they simply chased everyone inside before I could even touch them. As you can see, I had no choice but to continue using the inmates. I then used Blue Flames to cast a delayed hallucination spell, a lingering effect of the Black Flames, on the people around me.
"When the moment was right, I used those hallucinating inmates to incite a riot at the main gate. I knew the guards would abandon their more secure quarters and rush to the gate to prevent any escape. I am well aware that these are the worst individuals to be allowed freedom, so as a precaution, I've coated the main gate with Black Flames. Anyone attempting to cross will be incinerated to ash in the blink of an eye. My tracks are covered. You needn't worry."
Juro sighed, the weight of Samura's actions pressing down on him. "I'm sorry. It's just… I don't want it to be my fault if any of those monsters manage to get out."
Samura patted his shoulder, a rare moment of comfort. "I understand, kid. I wouldn't want that on your conscience either."
"Where are we going now?" Juro asked, glancing back at the giant fence, the prison a raging inferno behind them.
"Our destination is the Dwarf Kingdom," Samura replied, already moving. "But first, we need to stop at a nearby town for new clothes and supplies. We can't be seen wandering around in this prison garb."
Juro snickered. "'Garb'? What age was that word a fad?" Samura pinched his cheek hard. "Respect your elders, kid. Now, let's go."
As they walked away from the burning prison, the stench of smoke and chaos still clinging to their clothes, Juro couldn't shake the feeling that Samura's casual brutality, his willingness to sacrifice so many for their escape, was a chilling glimpse into the old man's true nature. The Dwarf Kingdom awaited, a new chapter, but Juro wondered if he was truly escaping one prison only to enter another, bound by a dangerous alliance with a man who wielded power with such ruthless efficiency.