I turned to Clara as a thought struck . "Won't Vie know about our plan and speed up their experints?"
"He doesn't watch twenty-four-seven," Clara said, shaking her head. "I doubt it."
"I see. Do you know why Vie's trying to create artificial Honors?"
Her expression darkened, her voice shifting. "I saw it in the survivor's mories. They're planning to use the artificial Honors as sacrifices—to fuel an extrely powerful artifact. It's supposed to kill all the shadow creatures and end the war."
I stiffened. "This artifact... Is it—?"
"Yes," she cut in. "It's the one you've been looking for. Sunny, if you save my sister, their entire plan falls apart. She holds all the experintal data."
"That may be true," I said, "but there's a chance they've backed up the core data. If they have it, they could rebuild everything from scratch."
"But if we get the artifact first," I added, "their plan dies for good. Artifacts are one-ti-use items. Once it's broken, that's it."
She nodded silently.
"But don't worry," I said, offering her a reassuring smile. "We'll still save your sister."
"I understand."
"One more thing. How can you still use your powers? Everything here's made of Lern—I can't even conjure smoke."
"I have my tricks," she said, smiling faintly.
"Then why don't you escape?" Calvin asked.
"It's safer here than out there," Clara answered, shaking her head.
Calvin let out a grunt in acknowledgnt.
The door creaked open. Three guards entered.
"Visiting ti is over. Hm? Who are you two?" One narrowed his eyes—clearly expecting visitors, but not us.
I turned slowly, a lightbulb flicking on in my head.
---
**Third-Person POV – Elsewhere in the city...**
On the other side of the city, Synth officers were clocking out. So were at bars, others at ho with family, or staring at the earth ceiling in quiet exhaustion. Then, their phones buzzed.
Each received the sa ssage:
[You've been invited to a ga! Please go to this address to participate.]
Naturally, they assud it was spam—until their screens turned white. Light flashed. Their pupils dimd. Phones clattered to the floor as they stood up in eerie silence and left for the address.
---
**Back to Sunny – Prison hallway**
Now wearing guard uniforms, Calvin and I turned to Clara.
"Where exactly is your sister?" I asked.
"She's on the deepest level of the prison—Sector 0. Only accessible through a restricted elevator. Only high-ranking officers can use it."
I nodded, then glanced at Calvin. "Can your powers work here?"
He nodded.
"Go wild."
A grin spread across Calvin's face. He stomped, and his cha surged from his shadow, its golden eyes locking onto .
I raised my middle finger. "Co, trash can."
Its eyes glowed brighter—clearly provoked—but it didn't attack . Instead, it turned toward the door, as if seeing through it.
Sothing was coming.
My instincts flared. I grabbed Calvin and leapt aside just as the door exploded.
Dust and debris clouded the hall. With the Lern-sealed door destroyed, my power surged back. I dissolved into mist, grabbing Calvin and Clara, and warped them to safety.
Reforming, I scanned the blast zone.
Five Honors stood where the door once was. Red suits, black capes. Three n. Two won.
Lightning sparked yellow across the hall. The Honors sensed sothing—and scattered. Clanking echoed through the prison. Sparks flew. Blurs dashed from cell to cell at breakneck speed.
"They're onto us," I said. "We move—now."
"Where?" Calvin asked, eyes fixed on his cha, now fending off ten S-rank Honors.
I took a drag from my puff and shaped it into a massive hamr.
"We're bringing her ho."
I raised the hamr. "Alright, everyone—wakey, wakey!"
THUD. THUD.
Each cell we passed, I smashed the bars. Prisoners stared in shock before bolting to freedom. I tossed hamrs of smoke to so of them. They caught on quickly—so helped free others, so broke down walls and floors. Total chaos.
Alarms blared. Red lights flickered.
---
**Third-Person POV – At the warehouse**
The Synth staff stood in rows—256 of them. Each wore a number on their chest. As their phones flashed again, the glaze over their eyes faded.
Confused, they glanced around.
"Mr. Leon?"
"Mrs. Hill?"
Leon, a balding man with a pot belly, scanned the crowd. These were his coworkers. All of them.
"What the hell's going on here?" he shouted. No answer.
Then, a voice crackled through the speakers:
[Attention. Thank you for participating in This Ga. Answer truthfully, and you'll return to your families.]
Murmurs turned to outcries. Fear. Confusion. Rage.
"Get out here, you maniac!" Leon yelled.
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