CH 6. A Certain Prison Camp
“Chief Warden, dinner has started.”
“Ensure no one comes near.”
“Yes, I will follow your orders.”
As the guard left, Clark opened a box in the corner of the warden’s office.
Inside lay a silver bracelet he had carefully safeguarded—a magical artifact that amplified his energy.
‘Something was definitely wrong back then.’
Clark bit his lip, recalling the riot days earlier. A young mage who hadn’t even unlocked his mana had withstood the aura of a 5th-circle knight. In his fifty years, he had never seen—or even heard of—such a thing.
‘It wasn’t endurance. It felt more like… it didn’t affect him at all.’
At the time, too many eyes had been watching to investigate further. He’d also assumed there might be secrets about the Arahams he didn’t know. He’d scoured books but found no records. The Arahams were a family shrouded in mystery, so he hadn’t expected much.
‘…This time, I’ll dig deeper.’
Killing Zed wasn’t the issue—he needed to repay the humiliation. Such was the relationship between knights and mages, eternally opposed.
‘Never thought I’d resort to this. How pathetic.’
Clark fastened the bracelet to his wrist. Power surged through him even without channeling energy. With a faint smile, he headed to the dining hall.
Crash!
By the time he arrived, dinner was over.
Not a shred remained of the lavish Bertisan beef—a costly blow to the prison’s budget, but Clark couldn’t care less.
“Took you long enough. Shame you missed the taste,” Zed remarked.
“Prisoner 218. No—Zed Araham.”
Clark’s glare burned with hostility that sharpened into killing intent.
“Why the act this time?”
Zed didn’t flinch, even as the 5th-circle knight’s murderous aura washed over him. He stood unfazed, almost bored.
“What? Mad I didn’t save you a slice?”
“…How did you do it that day?”
Zed shrugged, chuckling.
The insult stung—a half-baked mage who couldn’t even sense mana, humiliating him? Clark wanted to tear him apart, but the law bound even executions here. Especially for an Araham. Defying imperial law would bring catastrophic backlash.
‘With his last meal eaten, the execution’s inevitable. But first—what don’t I know about the Arahams?’
Knights and mages had evolved as counterweights. Mages maintained distance; knights closed it. The Arahams stood at magic’s pinnacle. Even a sliver of intel could be invaluable—or a ticket out of this backwater.
Clark stepped close, gripping Zed’s shoulder with crushing force.
Hummm…
Energy pulsed slowly, relentlessly. This time, he held nothing back.
“Huh…?!”
Only Liu reacted. The boy crumpled under the pressure, vomiting his meal as he crawled across the floor.
“Ugh…!”
Foam bubbled at Liu’s lips. Zed’s brow twitched.
“Enough.”
“…?!”
“Kill him properly. Stop throwing a tantrum.”
Zed’s voice was icy. Clark, disbelieving, poured every ounce of strength into the assault. Liu blacked out—yet Zed remained expressionless.
‘Even with the artifact…? At this range?!’
This wasn’t endurance. It was immunity. To resist so effortlessly, Zed would need to be at least a circle higher.
‘A 6th-circle mage? Impossible!’ A mana-deaf halfwit couldn’t leap to 6th-circle. ‘Unless… this is the Arahams’ power?’
Rumors painted them as formidable, but Clark—a southerner—had never met one. Now, he saw the truth: bloodline gaps were real, and vast.
He withdrew his energy, laughing hollowly. A lifetime of training, yet he couldn’t force a kneel from this runt.
“Done fooling around?” Zed asked disdainfully.
“Impressive… The Arahams are dangerous.”
“Try lifting rocks. Might help.”
“Your execution is at dawn. Even your family can’t defy imperial law. The evidence is airtight.”
“Do as you like.”
“…Enjoy your last night.”
Clark retreated to his office to draft a knight-order report, eyelids heavy.
‘Focus. There’s more to uncover.’
Though defeated, the intel might aid others. He began writing, bitterness fading to exhaustion.
‘Dammit.’
Whether from energy drain or despair, he dropped his pen, overwhelmed.
The confrontation yielded one gain—thanks to dinner.
[Penalty partially alleviated.]
[Strength: 100 (-40)]
[Agility: 100 (-40)]
[Stamina: 100 (-40)]
[Perception: 100]
[Mana: 0]
The penalty had dropped from -50 to -40. A proper diet and exercise helped, but the Bertisan beef—supreme in taste and nutrition—deserved credit.
‘Noticeable difference.’
A 10-point boost to Strength, Agility, and Stamina was staggering. In-game, raising stats was grueling—30 at once felt surreal.
“Liu. Wake up.”
“Ugh…”
Two hours later, Liu stirred.
That bastard Clark used an artifact. Pathetic.
“Can you walk?”
“Nauseous… Might puke…”
“You already emptied your guts.”
“My beef… Bertisan… I’ll curse him forever.”
Liu recovered fast—sturdier than he looked. I patted his back, lowering my voice.
“You’ve got skills, huh?”
See? Heh, this is nothing."
Liu pulled out the object he'd hidden in his arms with a smirk - the key he'd snatched earlier while falling.
It was so seamless I mentally vowed to guard my valuables around him.
"Actually, it worked because that guy was focused on you. But are you really fine? The 5th Circle isn't something just anyone reaches."
"Whatever."
"You're hiding something. Nothing else makes sense."
Probably his street-smart background and hard-knock life.
I needed to stay cautious around him.
Changing the subject, I added, "We're escaping tonight. We'll go once we've recovered enough."
"Shouldn't we leave now? The warden will notice."
"Relax. He's probably passed out by now."
"Huh? How can you know that?"
Easy.
The bracelet he wore.
What was it called... 'Bracelet of Nulek'?
Some junk item I'd barely used in-game - boosts magic temporarily but piles up fatigue.
Typical low-tier gear with mixed pros and cons.
'Using that trash as a trump card? Classic backwater knight.'
Perfect for me though.
While he's lost in dreamland, we slip away.
"Really sure about this?"
"Stay here if you're scared."
"What?! I'm sticking with my lifeline! But even with the main gate key, what about our cell?"
"Child's play."
The rust-eaten iron door.
I'd stayed post-sync for the main prison gate, not this junk.
Crash!
My kick shattered it pathetically.
Whether from my 60 Strength or its flimsiness, Liu gaped.
"You're a mage?! Since when do you—"
"Move. Guards will swarm."
"R-right."
Prisoners slept through the commotion, but corridor guards stared moon-eyed at our escape.
"What're you—?!"
"Escape! Sound the— Ghk!"
I struck jaws and solar plexuses lightning-fast.
We dashed past crumpled guards toward the yard.
"Escapees! Don't let them reach the gate!"
The prison erupted. Guards swarmed cockroach-like toward the main entrance.
Swish!
"Ugh—!"
First gate guards drew swords. Too slow.
I disabled them before their blades cleared scabbards.
"Whoa... Insane!"
Common misconception: weapons beat bare hands.
Partly true - swords outpower fists.
But only for mediocrities.
"Fetch the war— Cough!"
Swords need shoulder motion first.
Slower attack arc than fists.
Fastest human strike? A boxer's jab.
Straight. Minimal motion.
I've never even taken a jab - slower slashes? Please.
'Unless they use magic...'
But these were just sword-swinging grunts.
"Liu, hurry!"
"Can't see in this dark!"
As Liu fumbled, guards mobbed us. With magic, I'd crush them instantly...
Shame. Silver lining?
At least I get to enjoy this.
"Ugh!"
"Attack together! He's no amateur!"
"Since when do mages brawl?!"
Unheard of here - fistfights are thug territory.
I bought time dropping guards methodically.
"Got it! Open!"
The thick door groaned ajar.
Through the crack: freedom. I heaved with everything.
"Arhan's escaping! Pursue!"
They came with warhorses, but darkness offered endless hiding spots.
"Morons. Never heard 'darkest under the lantern'?" Liu muffled laughter.
Guards charged the wrong way as we hid under their noses.
Fading hoofbeats brought that tutorial-cleared satisfaction. Pure.
