Chapter 109. Break Out
Tall stone walls blocked their path, with mages mounted atop them pointing powerful spells their direction. At the far end of the prison compound, double doors led out into the world beyond. Rhys led the charge, fending off the long-range blasts of magic wherever he could, and dodging them where he couldn’t. The other re-cored mages joined him in defending the coreless, and swords flashed as they parried bright bolts of light. A few more guards reluctantly charged them, uninterested in losing their lives meaninglessly to prevent a few prisoners from escaping, but unable to defy orders. Rhys cut down them down, one and all. All of them had participated in the horrors within the mines. Not a single one of them deserved to live.
A scream split the air behind him as one of the mages fell, dropped by a bolt from on high. There was no saving him; there was a hole where his heart had been. Gesturing for the others to keep running, Rhys doubled back and rested his hand on the man’s body and pulled out the impurities and filth within him, compressing them into a single knife. A bolt of magic closed in on him as his killer loosed another round. Rhys sidestepped, then flung the knife, using Trash Manipulation to send it far further than it should have been able to fly. It whistled through the air and stuck into the mage’s neck. If the blow didn’t kill him, the impurities would. Rhys whirled and ran on.
As much as he would have liked to end every mage in the prison, they were on a timer. The sirens echoed in the clear air, calling for reinforcements, and already, faraway ships in the distant skies turned their noses toward the mines. Rhys rejoined the other prisoners at the door, where they slammed against it with no avail.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Korii saluted—an unnecessary gesture, but there was no time to correct her now. “Sir, the gate is sealed. We can’t get past.”
“Sealed?” Rhys put his hand on the double doors. A pulse of magic responded to him, the doors absolutely shimmering with energy. The magic was pure, incredibly so, and it allowed nothing within or past it. It was an absolute seal, locking them shut.
Bolts rained down on them. The cored mages formed up, batting them back with sword flourishes and mana blasts of their own. They could hold for now, but they couldn’t hold forever, even without the Empire’s ships ever drawing nearer.
Rhys looked back across the prison yard, at the Warden’s body. If anyone had the key, it would be him. But there was an entire field of mages throwing magic spells between him and the body. Fire sizzled down into the earth, and opposite it, bolt of acid spluttered on the ground where a mage deflected it. With the group, he’d had cover, and the mages had been forced to spread their targets. Alone? Alone, he wasn’t so sure.
“Everyone, give me your impurities,” Rhys requested, holding out his hand. A few mages hesitated, but others reached out immediately. Every time a hand touched his, he absorbed all the impurities in their body. A few people screamed or pulled away, but they always put their hand right back in his.
One after another, he formed black knives formed from impurities. He counted along the wall. Five, ten, fifteen… sixteen dull knives sat in his hand. He stepped forward, breaking through the defensive line, and held his hand aloft.