The one retrieved from The Void

The closer they got to the gates of the main building, the tenser the environment became. The massive doors bore the scars of countless impacts, evidence of desperate attempts to breach them. Fresh blood stained the ground in front—a grim reminder of a fierce battle that had taken place there.

"Let's get this over with. I've got other things to do," the Negotiator muttered impatiently.

That was when the doors began to creak open.

"Stay close, Vastian," the Negotiator said sharply.

As the doors swung wide, gunfire erupted. Guards stationed behind the doors had been waiting for this moment, unleashing their fury at the inmates.

"Halt!" a commanding voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. From the open doorway emerged Maxwell, the Warden, walking with measured calm, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Negotiator," Maxwell said, his tone cold. "Care to explain what's going on here?"

"The kid here negotiated terms," the Negotiator replied evenly. "The students and teachers get safe passage into the building."

"And the terms?" Maxwell asked, his eyes narrowing.

"He comes with me. The rest of them go in there," the Negotiator stated, gesturing toward the building.

Maxwell's piercing gaze fell on Vas. After a moment of silence, he said, "Your grandmother would be proud." Turning back to the Negotiator, he added, "You've got five minutes. After that, I'll come hunting for you personally."

"Fine," the Negotiator said dismissively, grabbing Vas and pulling him along.

Maxwell turned to the group of students and teachers. "What are you all standing around for? Move. Get inside."

Before they could react, the courtyard began to fill with thick, choking smoke.

"Smoke grenades! Take cover!" one of the guards shouted.

Chaos erupted as the students scrambled toward the main building. Amid the confusion, no shots were fired, and when the smoke cleared, all the students were safely inside. The guards and inmates stared at each other, bewildered.

"I apologize," Maxwell said smoothly. "It seems there was a... malfunction with someone's equipment." Turning back to the inmates, he added curtly, "You're free to leave now." With that, he strode into the building, his guards falling into step behind him.

Meanwhile, Vas followed the Negotiator, who led him through what remained of the courtyard. The air was thick with the smell of blood and gunpowder, and the sound of distant gunfire and screams echoed through the ruins. The destruction around them was a stark testament to the intensity of the ongoing conflict.

"So," the Negotiator said, breaking the silence, "we're alone now. Ask your questions."

"Alright," Vas replied, his tone calm. "Do you know who planned this?"

"No," the Negotiator answered curtly.

"Are the inmates united in their efforts?" Vas asked.

"No," came the flat reply.

"How many floors' worth of inmates have escaped?" Vas asked, his final question.

"Four floors, but I don't have details on the other three," the Negotiator admitted.

Vas nodded, processing the information. These three answers confirmed much of what he had suspected. The first answer indicated that someone was indeed behind the chaos, though the Negotiator's quick response implied he had only heard this secondhand. The second answer revealed that while there were organized groups among the inmates, not all had joined forces—some were likely acting independently or simply seeking to sow chaos. The third question was the most revealing. By answering it, the Negotiator inadvertently confirmed he was willing to share intel about the current state of affairs. Furthermore, his reply hinted at the scale of the breakout and the disorganization of the other factions.

"Thanks," Vas said simply.

"I think you wasted your questions," the Negotiator remarked with a smirk.

"Not at all," Vas replied calmly.

The Negotiator turned away. "Alright, now you come with me. We'll go to the boss, and from there, you'll—"

His words were cut short as he suddenly felt a chilling sensation. Glancing down, he saw his body—headless, blood pooling at his feet. In front of him stood Vas, twin blades in his hands, their edges dripping with blood.

"Don't pretend," Vas said, his voice steady. "I know your head will reattach itself soon, so get it over with."

The Negotiator's disembodied head stared at Vas, terror creeping into his expression. How had Vas figured it out?

Years ago, the Negotiator had been a desperate man. Fleeing from the authorities after a botched theft, he had stumbled into a dark alley and, without thinking, leaped through an open window. Inside, he found an old man strapped to a chair, strange symbols carved into the walls, floor, and ceiling.

The old man smiled. "Oh, lost soul, care to strike a deal?"

"What... what kind of deal?" the Negotiator had stammered.

"I'll teach you things you never imagined," the old man promised, "and in return, you'll break this seal and bring me a few fools now and then."

The offer was tempting, though it reeked of danger. With no other options, the Negotiator had agreed.

The first time he delivered someone to the old man, he could hear their screams even from outside the building. Over time, he grew numb to it. A year later, he had delivered countless victims. The old man was no longer frail—he had grown young and strong again. In exchange, the Negotiator had learned the art of striking deals, each one bound by strict guidelines. These deals granted him power, though the price was steep.

When the war began, he was recruited by someone promising him wealth and freedom if he helped overthrow the government. He tried, but he failed. The gods spared him execution, deeming his crimes insufficient, and he was sent to this hellish prison instead.

Today had been his chance to escape, and Vas—a member of the powerful Hek family—had practically offered himself up. The Negotiator had struck a deal, confident he was untouchable as long as the terms remained unfulfilled.

But now, standing headless, he realized he had underestimated Vas.

"For someone who makes so many Amrita Pacts, you're awfully weak. I guess that old man only taught you how to make pacts," Vas said, standing over The Negotiator.

The Negotiator stared at Vas, his expression puzzled.

"Stop wasting time; we've got things to do. I'm still holding up my end of the pact—I'll help you negotiate with my grandfather. But move it," Vas commanded.

Still shaken, The Negotiator realized there was no playing games with Vas. His body moved on its own, picking up his severed head and placing it back atop his neck. Slowly, his head began reattaching—nerves first, then bones, veins, arteries, muscles, and finally the skin.

"How did you know I'd survive?" The Negotiator asked once he could speak again.

"When we struck our deal, you agreed to ensure safe passage. That line there? It meant that no matter what, everyone involved had to remain safe until the pact was fulfilled," Vas explained. "I just wanted to see how strong you actually were."

"And?" The Negotiator asked hesitantly.

"Disappointing," Vas replied bluntly. "You're skilled with Amrita Pacts, but you don't have enough Anima to sustain many. Am I right?"

"Correct," The Negotiator admitted, surprised at how easily Vas had seen through him.

"Let's go," Vas said. "Communications are jammed, and we've got 42 hours left—at best—before someone comes looking for us. Until then, guide me through the floors."

"What makes you think there's that much time left?" The Negotiator asked.

"I don't," Vas replied. "It's the best assumption I could make. In 42 hours, we're supposed to be back on our respective planets and in our homes. When that doesn't happen, someone will come here. And when they do, communications will be restored. That's when I'll help you negotiate with my grandfather. Until then, guide me through the floors. I want to go as far down as possible."

"Why?" The Negotiator pressed.

"Because," Vas said, "there's something strange down there, and I need to verify something."

"Fine," The Negotiator said, giving up. "I'll do it."

Meanwhile, Lily and the rest of the group were entering the burning, chaotic ruins of the patio. The doors had been destroyed, and the air was thick with smoke and ash. An unexpected addition accompanied them.

"So, tell me again why you followed us?" Lily asked the stranger.

It was the man from Thalassa—a pale young man with the lower part of his face replaced by cybernetic implants extending up to his nose. His eyes, also cybernetic, gleamed faintly. He had dark blue braided hair, a broad build, and unnervingly large, round eyes.

"This seemed more fun than staying behind," the man said casually.

"Okay," Ken said, unconvinced. "We're looking for a way to help Vas. You do understand that, right?"

"Yeah, I do," the young man replied.

"And what are we supposed to call you?" Yuu asked.

"Jason," he said. "My name is Jason."

"Alright, Jason," Carmilla said, her tone sharp. "Since you're the last-minute addition, any brilliant ideas on how to proceed?"

"No idea," Jason admitted. "I figure if we keep looking, we'll find a clue eventually."