Chapter 199: Death Sentence
They were approaching the surface.
The tunnel sloped upward gently, almost imperceptibly, but their breaths grew shorter—less from fatigue than instinct. A different scent filtered through the cracked grates: not quite fresh air, no, but something less stagnant, a hint of moss, of dead leaves... the faint promise of the green zone.
Julius, at the front, had frozen before a drainage mouth eaten away by time. He carefully pried aside the twisted plates, his movements unhurried. Outside, the light was green and dirty, filtered through the dried foliage of the park.
They emerged one by one, like heavy memories refusing to stay buried. Dylan came out last, still wrapped in his blanket like a second skin, his gaze wary. The park stretched before them, dreary, petrified. The towering stone figures loomed in the morning mist like paused specters.
No one in sight. At least, not yet.
The three soldiers instinctively formed a half-circle around Julius. One of those reflexes forged in old campaigns, moonless nights, and poorly given orders. That kind of thing doesn’t fade. They were still here—and that was already a miracle.
"We’ll cover you to the north wall," said the youngest, a guy with a crooked nose and battered armor. He spoke without emotion, but his eyes kept darting between Dylan and the sky, as if expecting betrayal to come from the clouds. "After that, we turn back."
Julius nodded. He said nothing. No need. These men had never needed speeches.
They moved at a brisk but unhurried pace. Dylan could feel the underlying unease in his bones: this wasn’t a victory, not yet. At any second, they could run into a patrol, a sentry, a misplaced arrow. Even the statues seemed intent on holding them back. There was something threatening in their frozen poses, a melancholic warning, as if they knew every escape was just a detour to another cage.
Finally, they reached the wall. An old breach had been disguised under foliage, and one of the soldiers shoved it aside with his shoulder. The light here was sharper, almost harsh. On the other side lay a discreet ravine, then nature reclaimed by brambles, ruins, and chance.
And beyond that, the real exit.
Julius turned. A suspended moment.