The prison groaned.
Steel supports twisted.
Concrete split apart.
Somewhere far below, an alarm repeated the same warning over and over.
STRUCTURAL FAILURE IMMINENT.
Captain Vale looked upward.
"We have minutes."
Malachai didn't.
He was already issuing orders.
"District Nine, Phase Three."
His communicator crackled.
"Engineering teams moving."
"Medical teams in position."
"Evacuation corridors secured."
"Good."
He turned toward Seraph.
"I'm holding the building."
She understood immediately.
"You'll need time."
"I'll make some."
Without another word, Malachai disappeared into the collapsing lower levels.
The ground shook again.
Entire support columns had begun failing.
Thousands of tons of concrete threatened to collapse onto prisoners, guards, heroes, and civilians alike.
Malachai placed one hand against a fractured support pillar.
Void energy spread silently through the cracks.
The concrete stopped moving.
Then another column failed.
He caught that one too.
Far above, engineers from District Nine rushed in, following the stabilization routes Malachai created.
They didn't question how.
They simply worked.
That was what District Nine did.
Rescue first.
Questions later.
Meanwhile, Seraph turned to the Justicars.
"Separate the prisoners."
Several younger members hesitated.
"The guilty?"
"No."
"The dangerous."
She pointed toward the classified wing.
"Murderers."
"Terrorists."
"Traffickers."
"They stay contained."
Then toward the ordinary prison blocks.
"Everyone else leaves."
One recruit blinked.
"Even gang members?"
"They face judgment."
She looked him directly in the eyes.
"They do not face collapse."
The recruit nodded.
"Understood."
The Justicars immediately divided into teams.
One escorted terrified inmates toward evacuation corridors.
Another secured violent offenders.
A third assisted the injured guards.
Justice continued.
Even during disaster.
Elsewhere, Solin and Nyxara found themselves trapped beneath a collapsing section of the eastern block.
Three frightened corrections officers huddled nearby.
One looked ready to panic.
"We're trapped!"
Nyxara glanced upward.
"Technically."
Another tremor answered her.
"...Very trapped."
Solin sighed.
"Now?"
"What?"
"You joke now?"
Nyxara smiled.
"If I stop joking, then I'm worried."
She looked toward the ceiling.
"...And I'm a little worried."
Together they pushed aside fallen debris while shielding the officers from another collapse.
Across the prison, the First Fallen walked through the chaos.
Dark Paladins followed behind him.
One of them spoke.
"The prison is failing."
"I know."
"The heroes are evacuating everyone."
"I know."
Another asked quietly,
"Do we continue the judgments?"
The First Fallen stopped walking.
Ahead of him, a prison guard struggled to carry an unconscious inmate whose crimes amounted to robbery and assault.
Neither noticed the Dark Paladins.
The guard stumbled.
Without a word, one Dark Paladin stepped forward and lifted the unconscious prisoner onto their own shoulder.
The guard stared.
"...What?"
The Dark Paladin answered simply.
"The sentence for theft is not death."
They continued toward the evacuation route.
The guard remained frozen.
The First Fallen watched them go.
Then looked back at his followers.
"Our war has never been against the guilty."
Silence.
"It has always been against those who profit from evil itself."
The Dark Paladins nodded once.
Their mission changed immediately.
Some began helping evacuate guards.
Others carried injured inmates.
Several formed defensive lines, holding collapsing corridors long enough for civilians to escape.
High above, Captain Vale witnessed the scene.
She frowned.
"...They're helping."
One Guild hero looked equally confused.
"I don't understand."
Neither did she.
Not completely.
Then a violent explosion ripped through the deepest level.
Every superhuman present felt it.
Even Malachai looked up.
"That..."
His expression changed.
"...wasn't from the prison."
Far beneath the foundations lay a chamber no blueprint acknowledged.
The blast doors had already been destroyed.
Ancient machinery hummed weakly.
Rows of servers blinked with dying lights.
Documents burned.
Hard drives melted.
The room had been intentionally rigged to erase itself.
Captain Vale arrived first.
Seraph only seconds later.
The First Fallen emerged from another corridor.
For a brief moment, none of them fought.
They simply looked around.
Evidence.
Destroyed.
Files.
Gone.
Someone had wanted this place erased.
Malachai arrived last, brushing concrete dust from one shoulder.
He surveyed the room.
"This wasn't a prison."
"No."
Vale answered quietly.
"It was an archive."
The remaining monitors flickered one final time.
A distorted video appeared.
The face was obscured.
The voice was electronically altered.
"...Project Bastion... authorized."
"...High-risk individuals transferred..."
"...Public records sealed..."
"...Behavioral observation approved..."
The recording skipped.
"...Unauthorized funding..."
"...Private consortium..."
"...Justice containment initiative..."
Then—
"...Subject transfer approved..."
The image froze.
One name appeared.
FIRST FALLEN
Silence filled the chamber.
Every eye slowly turned toward him.
The First Fallen stared at the screen.
His expression did not change.
But something behind his eyes did.
Recognition.
Confusion.
Then anger.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
He spoke only four words.
"...They lied to me."
Before anyone could ask what he meant—
The entire archive detonated.
A wall of black fire erupted through the chamber.
Not from the First Fallen.
Not from Seraph.
Not from Malachai.
From somewhere else.
High above the battlefield, the Deceiver quietly closed another observation file.
A final note appeared.
«External variable confirmed.»
The Deceiver paused.
For the first time in many chapters...
The note was followed by something unusual.
A question.
«Who began the experiment first?»
The smile that followed was almost imperceptible.
The board had just become far more complicated.