Amidst the chaos outside, Altair did not panic. He had already guessed that it was likely related to the recent bandit activity. Still, the town had dispatched a few Awakened Warriors, so the situation shouldn't be too dire.
He was also thankful that he had already completed the third task. After gaining enough trust points from Nolan, he had immediately unlocked and completed the task, successfully constructing the defensive walls.
Much to the children's shock and delight, Nolan's new appearance, combined with the sudden emergence of the sturdy walls, left them dumbfounded. Their awe-filled gazes toward Altair made him feel somewhat embarrassed. They now looked at him in a new light—almost reverently.
Originally, he had planned to quickly settle his affairs in town, register, and then leave. But who would've thought things would escalate like this? Fortunately, given the town's current chaotic state, minor accusations were not being taken seriously. The authorities were too overwhelmed to investigate thoroughly.
Cases of missing children weren't rare, and Altair had left no clues behind. Even if they searched the entire town, they wouldn't find the children. With the new walls, proper shelter, and adequate food supply, he was no longer worried about leaving them alone for the meantime.
Anyways, If the situation in town became too dangerous, he could simply return to them.
Even inside the prison, he could hear the clanging of weapons and the barking of orders. The town was clearly preparing for an attack. Still, that was beyond his concern. He wasn't Awakened yet, and while he had a few tricks up his sleeve, those were difficult to explain and best kept hidden.
Since he couldn't contribute to the defense, all he could do was behave and wait. With the appearance of Awakened Warriors, he knew his role was to stay out of the way for now.
He sighed and sat back down on the cold prison bed. Around him, the prisoners in other cells began to clamor. Asking what's happening outside.
Just then, a soldier appeared.
"Get ready, all of you. We're transferring you to the underground shelter. You'll still be restrained. Behave yourselves or you'll be left behind," the soldier barked. "The town is being evacuated."
"Sir, what's happening outside?" one of the prisoners asked.
"Stop asking questions and just follow orders. We're short on manpower and can't waste time here."
Several soldiers entered with chains, securing the prisoners one by one and leading them out.
Altair's cell was near the entrance, as he was only being held for investigation. He watched silently as the other cells were emptied and prisoners led away—but no one came for him.
He frowned.
Why was he still here? Had they forgotten him? Or... was something else going on?
Altair stood and walked to the cell door. Through the metal bars, he could see the hallway and the lone soldier standing guard.
"Sir? What about me? Aren't you taking me too?" he asked, genuinely confused.
The soldier turned, his expression stern. "Don't worry. There's already a special arrangement for you. Just stay put. Someone will come for you."
The soldier's answer unsettled him. It was strange—he'd said there was already a special arrangement for him.
Why would there be a special arrangement? Was it because he handed over the map, and the soldiers thought he'd made some great contribution? Were they treating him differently because of that?
Altair doubted it. The government wouldn't want news spreading that the bandits had managed to steal a detailed map from the town's archives. That kind of information would be tightly suppressed.
A strange feeling crept up his spine.
Should he just leave? But what if there really was an arrangement for him, and they discovered he was gone? Wouldn't that make things worse?
Despite the doubt, his gut screamed at him that something was wrong. Especially as the sounds outside began to die down. Too quiet.
Altair opened his system space and retrieved a small glass bottle, its surface cool and smooth to the touch. Inside swirled a milky, translucent liquid that shimmered faintly under the dim prison light—like moonlight trapped in water.
This was one of the rewards he'd received after completing the third task: an invisibility potion with a duration of one hour. He had three in total, and now was clearly the time to use one
Without hesitation, he uncorked the vial. A faint, icy mist escaped from the opening as the scent of something fresh and oddly metallic tickled his nose. He tipped the bottle back and drank the contents in one swift motion, the cool liquid sliding down his throat like silk.
A tingling sensation spread across his skin.
Then, slowly—almost imperceptibly at first—his body began to fade. His arms, clothes, even the shadows he cast, dissolved into nothingness. In moments, the cell appeared completely empty, as if he had never been there at all.
From the outside, his cell now looked completely empty.
Moments later, footsteps echoed down the hallway.
A tall man appeared, clad in a long white coat that clung to his form like a second skin. The high collar framed a face as pale and emotionless as winter frost.
Carson walked leisurely toward the cell, a soldier leading the way. When they reached Altair's cell, both men stopped—staring into an empty room.
"What? Where is he?" the soldier gasped in disbelief, paling instantly. "Sir, I swear he was here when I left! No one else came out of this prison! How could this be?!"
Carson's gaze turned icy. He scanned the cell slowly, eyes narrowed.
So... the man really was an Awakened?
For an Awakened, escaping this place was child's play.
Carson's jaw tightened, veins pulsing visibly along his temple as fury simmered just beneath his composed façade. His eyes narrowed to slits, the sharp edge of humiliation twisting into something darker. That was twice now—the man had slipped through his fingers twice. And this time, it was right under his nose.
"Useless," he hissed, his voice low and venomous as he stared at the trembling soldier in front of him.
Suddenly, his right arm convulsed violently. The sound of snapping bones and tearing sinew echoed through the corridor as his limb grotesquely shifted—skin bubbling and splitting apart to reveal sinewy red muscle and coarse fur. His hand twisted and stretched, morphing into a bestial maw, lined with jagged, yellowed fangs that gleamed under the flickering light.
The soldier beside him barely had time to flinch.
With a guttural snarl, the monstrous limb lunged forward. There was a sharp crack, then a sickening crunch as the beast-hand clamped down on the man's head. Bones splintered like brittle wood, blood splashing across the stone floor as his body twitches violently—nerves firing in vain—before collapsing in a lifeless heap.
Carson stood over the corpse, his mutated arm still quivering from the strike, the last remnants of the soldier's head vanishing between its teeth.
His breath was steady, but his eyes gleamed with seething wrath.
As blood dripped thickly onto the cold stone floor, Carson suddenly froze. A shiver ran down his spine, his senses screaming danger. The metallic scent of blood was suddenly eclipsed by something else—heat.
From seemingly empty air within the cell, a flicker of orange light sparked to life. A fireball materialized—small at first, then rapidly swelling, its core pulsing like a heartbeat. Flames licked and curled outward, casting dancing shadows against the walls. The air around it shimmered with blistering heat.
Carson's eyes widened. "What—"
BOOM!
The fireball erupted in a violent burst of flame and concussive force, its roar echoing down the corridor like a dragon's cry. Fire engulfed the cell in an instant, sending chunks of stone flying and waves of blistering heat tearing through the air. The shockwave slammed into Carson, embers scattering like shooting stars as the flames swallowed him whole.
The searing light reflected in his pale eyes as fire wrapped around his body like a ravenous beast. He was hurled backward, crashing into the stone wall with a bone-jarring thud. Smoke billowed thick and heavy, curling into the air like the breath of something ancient and wrathful—an unseen force that had awakened to consume him.