The plan worked — they were taken inside the prison.
The gates closed behind them with a heavy metallic echo, sealing them in.
The corridors were long, cold, and heavily guarded. Every step had to look natural. Every movement had to match the role they were playing.
The warden led the way in silence.
Hanchu followed closely behind, keeping his posture rigid, controlled. From the outside, nothing about them looked out of place.
Only Saigid knew how fragile the situation really was.
His vision still blurred slightly, his body heavy from the strain of using the ability. But he forced himself forward.
They went deeper.
Farther into the prison.
Until the atmosphere changed.
The air grew denser.
Quieter.
More dangerous.
The warden finally stopped in front of a reinforced section of cells.
Inside one of them — Yushai.
He was sitting still, head lowered, as if he had been waiting.
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
Then his eyes lifted.
He looked directly at Saigid.
And something in that look made it clear — he already understood.
That was the signal.
Everything moved at once.
Hanchu stepped forward and struck first, taking down the nearest guard before he could react. Saigid forced himself to stand straight and extended his hand, activating what little control he still had left.
The warden turned on the guards.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Locks were broken.
Cells opened one after another.
The Guardians of the Light were freed.
Some of them staggered out, weakened. Others immediately joined the fight.
Yushai stepped out of his cell last.
Calm.
Focused.
As if this moment had already happened before.
"Move," he said quietly.
That was enough.
The escape began.
They pushed through the corridors, now filled with alarm signals and shouting. Guards flooded in from every direction, but the formation held. Every second counted.
They broke through the outer section.
And then—
The alarm changed.
Not panic.
Recognition.
The President's forces had realized.
They had been deceived.
"Stop them!"
The order echoed through the entire complex.
The hunt began.
Outside, the battlefield formed almost instantly.
Armed units surrounded the exit points, cutting off escape routes. The situation turned from infiltration into open combat.
Saigid stood at the front despite his condition.
Loky moved beside him.
No words were needed.
The first wave came fast.
Saigid raised his hand, forcing control where he could, disrupting movement, breaking coordination. Every use of his ability strained him further, but he didn't stop.
Loky moved through the battlefield with precision, covering openings, striking down those who got too close.
They fought as a unit.
Step by step, they pushed forward.
The second wave broke harder.
Stronger opponents.
Better trained.
But it wasn't enough.
Saigid forced one last surge of control, creating an opening—
—and Loky finished it.
The line collapsed.
The remaining forces hesitated.
Then fell back.
Silence slowly replaced the chaos.
They had won.
But not completely.
Saigid lowered his hand, breathing heavily.
Loky looked toward the horizon.
"They'll come again," he said.
No one argued.
Because this time, the President would not underestimate them.