The Dragoons descended through the endless shaft of the Pentagon’s Hole — their armored boots landing softly upon cushions of manipulated air.

  Below them, the abyss yawned like a wound in the world.

  Before them glowed the steel gate marked: CELL 137552.

  One Dragoon unlocked it with a key that shimmered faintly blue.

  The other hauled two unconscious figures over his shoulders. Without ceremony, they hurled them inside — Valerius and Eliana — before leaping upward, vanishing into the vertical dark.

  The cell door clanged shut. Silence swallowed everything.

  Eliana hit the stone floor hard, her head knocking against the wall. The jolt pulled her awake.

  Her eyes blinked open to the dim, flickering light.

  Three strangers sat against the far wall — prisoners.

  An old man with dark skin and gray hair.

  A middle-aged man, hollow-eyed, his wrists bruised.

  And a young man, staring with quiet suspicion.

  Then her gaze snapped to Valerius.

  He lay motionless beside her — blood still trickling from the massive wound across his torso, a wound that looked as though it should have killed him ten times over. His body was half split open, muscles torn, bone exposed.

  “Lerius!” she cried, shaking him.

  No response.

  Panic rose in her throat. She pressed both hands to the wound and whispered, “Freeze.”

  Nothing happened. No frost. No magic. Not even a spark.

  Her heart dropped. What happened to me?

  She touched his nostrils — no breath.

  Her ear to his chest — there. A heartbeat. Steady, slow, unbothered.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re alive,” she whispered, “but you’re not breathing.”

  She pressed her palms against his chest — once, twice, again.

  Nothing moved.

  Even using her full strength, his chest refused to shift, solid like stone.

  Her confusion grew desperate.

  “What are you made of, Lerius…” she whispered.

  Then she clenched her fists and began striking his chest, her voice breaking between each word.

  “Come on, Lerius—don’t die on me!”

  She kept hitting, tears spilling down her face.

  “Breathe—please—why won’t you move?”

  “Your heart’s still beating! You’re still here!”

  “Why—why won’t you—just—breathe!”

  She opened his mouth, leaned forward, and blew air into his lungs.

  Nothing.

  It was like trying to breathe life into stone — the air rebounded, compressed and forced back out.

  She closed his nose and tried again, harder this time. Still nothing.

  She gasped, trembling, near sobbing now. “No… no, please…”

  Her voice cracked as she turned toward the three men.

  “Don’t just sit there! Help me!”

  They exchanged fearful looks. Then, scrambling to their feet, all three rushed over.

  Together they pressed against Valerius’s chest while Eliana kept trying to breathe for him — desperate, trembling, hopelessly human.

  Still nothing. His chest did not rise.

  Eliana’s vision blurred with tears. “Please… please, Lerius… don’t leave me…”

  Then, suddenly—

  Valerius’s eyes shot open.

  Eliana froze, then let out a gasp that was half sob, half laugh. “Lerius—!”

  She threw her arms around him, clutching him tight.

  But Valerius didn’t move.

  His face was blank, his veins bulging faintly beneath his skin.

  Eliana pulled back, staring. “Lerius?”

  Then she saw it—

  His blood had stopped flowing.

  The wound across his torso was already clotting, muscle knitting together before her eyes.

  She exhaled shakily, wiping her tears.

  “It’s just like last time…” she whispered, smiling through relief. “You Elvheins just don’t die, do you?”

  He began to sweat the Calethrin—thin, black droplets seeping from his skin like poison being purged.

  She leaned back against the wall beside him, exhausted. “Thanks for helping,” she said to the three men.

  The old man, still trembling, nodded quickly. “It’s… it’s alright,” he said, his voice thin.

  Eliana glanced at him. “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

  The youngest man stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “You’re a Yilheimer. What do you expect?”

  The old man turned sharply. “Stop it, Greg. Don’t make her angry.”

  Eliana frowned slightly. “Yilheimers…” She looked down at Valerius’s wrist — a dull metal band clamped tightly around it, humming with faint blue light.

  A Vitalis Suppression Band. She tried to pry it off, but it didn’t move, locked in place as if fused to his skin.

  Then she looked down — another band glinted on her own wrist.

  Her pulse quickened. “Yilheimers… is that what you Earthers call us?” she asked quietly.

  The young man’s voice rose, bitter. “Are you people happy? Treating us like animals? We have lives too! We breathe, we hurt, we love — just like you!”

  The old man reached for him again. “Greg, stop—”

  But Eliana’s voice was calm. “How did you get here?”

  The middle-aged man looked up, hollow-eyed. “It was three years ago,” he said slowly. “We appeared in this world — lost, confused. Then… they came.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Monsters,” he whispered. “Things with claws and teeth and eyes that burned through you. We didn’t stand a chance.”

  His voice trembled as he continued.

  “Then one man appeared. He slaughtered them — every one of them. I thought he was some kind of god. The things he could do… it shouldn’t be possible. He split the ground with a single swing of his sword. I thought he’d come to save us.”

  He looked up, his eyes dark.

  “But then more like him showed up…”

  The middle-aged man’s voice trembled as he went on.

  “They captured us. Brought us here. Every five days they’d come… and take a few of us away.”

  He looked down, his fingers trembling slightly. “Guinea pigs for their experiments. None of them ever came back.”

  Eliana’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “No one should go through that.”

  Her voice softened, eyes full of quiet empathy. “Have you ever thought of escaping?”

  The youngest man — Greg — gave a bitter laugh. “Escape?” He shook his head. “Impossible. Even if we could — which we can’t — where would we go? We’re in the middle of the ocean.”

  He gestured around hopelessly. “There’s nothing but water and death above us. We’ve come to terms with our fate.”

  Eliana looked toward the far wall. There, half-hidden behind shadows, was a large metal door — far heavier than their cell’s.

  “Where does that door lead?” she asked.

  Greg followed her gaze, his tone dull. “That? To everyone else.”

  He glanced at the dim glow seeping through its edges. “It should be opening right about now.”

  With a deep rumble, the door unlocked — grinding open with a heavy clang.

  Greg sighed and stood. “Time for dinner.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The three men rose, moving with weary routine. Eliana followed, curiosity pushing her forward.

  Beyond the door stretched a massive open space — a vertical city carved into the inner walls of the abyss.

  The light hit her eyes, and she froze.

  Dozens of bridges connected the walls, prisoners moving in endless lines, ascending and descending stairways carved into stone.

  Bright bulbs glowed from every corner, powered by electricity — casting a harsh industrial light across the pit.

  Guards in dark armor patrolled the walkways, rifles humming faintly.

  Everywhere she looked, humanity stirred — eating, talking, surviving.

  Eliana whispered, awestruck, “It’s… so big.”

  Then a sound split the air behind her — a deep growl that made the walls tremble.

  THUD.

  A hand slammed against the wall just above her head.

  Valerius.

  He stood over her, eyes sharp and wild, his breathing steady — alive. “Where are we?” he demanded, voice low and rough.

  Eliana turned, tears welling instantly. “Lerius—you’re okay!”

  She looked him over quickly, her voice trembling. “You’re healed… completely healed.”

  Her hand pressed gently against his abdomen. The wound that had nearly torn him in half was gone. Not even a scar remained.

  “By the stars…” she breathed, a smile breaking through her shock. “You’re perfect again.”

  Behind them, Greg whispered to the middle-aged man, fear lacing his voice.

  “Wasn’t he dead a moment ago? His blood was everywhere…”

  The man answered grimly. “You should know by now — these Yilheimers aren’t normal.”

  Valerius turned to face them fully. His expression steadied. “You guys are humans,” he said quietly. “What are you doing here?”

  Greg frowned. “Did he just call us humans? Not Earthers?”

  The old man stepped forward slightly, squinting. “How do you know that word?”

  Valerius exhaled, lowering his tone. “Because… just like you, I’m from Earth.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed, disbelief etched into his face. “Do you think we’re fools? You’re a Yilheimer. Look at you.”

  Valerius lifted both hands slightly. “I know, I know — my size says otherwise. But I’m telling you the truth.”

  He gave a faint smirk, trying to ease the tension. “Alright… let’s see. I’ll say a few things only someone from Earth would know.”

  The three men exchanged uncertain glances — hesitant, suspicious, but listening.

  Valerius leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, his voice calm but sure. “Let’s start simple. The Earth has seven continents — Africa, Asia, Europe, North America, South America, Australia, and Antarctica. The biggest one’s Asia. The smallest? Australia.”

  The youngest frowned. “Everyone knows that.”

  Valerius smiled faintly. “Alright, then—how about this. We use machines called phones to talk across the world. We call them smartphones now, because they can connect to something invisible — the internet.”

  He tapped the air lightly. “A network of signals that wraps around the whole planet. You can search anything, talk to anyone, anywhere.”

  The men froze.

  Valerius continued casually, “And on Earth, there’s a place called McDonald’s. People go there to buy something called a burger. Comes with fries. Pretty good if you’re not watching your health.”

  Greg’s mouth opened slightly. “He’s not lying…”

  The old man’s voice cracked faintly. “McDonald’s… good lord, I haven’t heard that name in years…”

  Valerius gave a small grin. “Believe me now?”

  Eliana just stood there, watching the exchange with quiet curiosity.

  He exhaled. “We’ve got cars, planes, rockets… all sorts of stuff back home,” he said, voice low, almost nostalgic. “Man, I really miss Earth. Especially the music.”

  For a brief second, his mind drifted — to street lights, basslines, laughter. Then his chest tightened.

  He remembered the moment — that split-second flash when he felt Eryndor’s body being cut in two.

  A quiet rage settled behind his eyes.

  He stood suddenly. “I have to get out of here.”

  Eliana looked up sharply. “We can’t do anything,” she said, lifting her wrist to show the metal band. “These things — they suppress everything. Our magic, our Bravo, even your Seed ability.”

  Valerius grabbed the band around his wrist and pulled — hard.

  A violent jolt ripped through him.

  “—Tch!” He gritted his teeth, muscles locking as raw pain exploded through every nerve. He let go, panting.

  “What the hell— it was like my nerves were being cut.”

  Eliana’s face fell. “If we can’t remove them… there’s no way out of here.”

  The old man sitting nearby spoke, voice trembling. “If you try to escape, they’ll kill you before you take five steps.”

  Valerius straightened slowly, his jaw set. “Lorde,” he called.

  Nothing.

  He tried again. “Lorde!”

  Silence.

  “I can’t summon them,” he muttered. “Not even my guys.”

  He looked at Eliana. “Get on my back.”

  “What are you planning?” she asked, hesitant.

  “Even without Bravo,” he said, flexing his hands, “I’m still plenty strong.”

  She hesitated, then climbed onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

  Valerius turned toward the door. “Hold on tight.”

  He pulled his leg back — then slammed his heel into the metal.

  The sound was deep but dull. The door didn’t move. Not a dent.

  He frowned and stepped back.

  Then a voice echoed softly inside his head — clear, calm, familiar.

  “The door is made of Hecko,” Yelleen whispered. “A mineral that absorbs all shock. You won’t get through it by kicking.”

  Valerius blinked. “Yelleen… I forgot all about you.”

  He exhaled, half-smiling. “You’ve been quiet lately. Why?”

  “Because you didn’t need me,” Yelleen replied. Her tone was serene, almost fond. “When you first arrived here, you were lost. Confused. You needed guidance. But not anymore.”

  Valerius tilted his head. “You used to talk to me all the time.”

  “I watched you learn to stand on your own,” she said. “And that made me silent.”

  Eliana frowned. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Yelleen,” Valerius said, tapping his temple. “We don’t know what she is exactly — but we can communicate.”

  “Push the door,” Yelleen instructed. “Slowly. Don’t strike — build pressure.”

  Valerius pressed both palms flat against the metal and began to push.

  His muscles flexed, veins standing out along his forearms. The Hecko resisted — then groaned.

  Bit by bit, the hinges shrieked and tore free.

  With a deep grinding sound, the massive door lurched and fell — down, down into the endless abyss below.

  Alarms erupted. Red lights spun violently across the corridor.

  ---

  To Be Continued...