The scent of the arena infirmary was different from the dungeon’s. Right now, it burned the nose with sharp medicinal herbs and clean bandages.

  “You have five minutes,” Deniz said, standing by the door. “I told the guards we’re doing damage control on the Architect’s brain. Don’t linger.”

  Hope nodded and stepped inside.

  The room was small. It had a single window, and the evening sunlight filtering in fell directly onto the girl sitting on the stretcher. Lypin. Hope was finally able to see her up close again. This time, he wasn’t looking at her through iron bars or from behind a crowd. There was no metal between them this time. No distance.

  Hope froze in place. He never hesitated when fighting an Ogre or analyzing an assassin’s shadow traps. But now? He didn’t know where to put his hands.

  “Hope,” Lypin said. Her voice was soft, just as he remembered.

  “H-hi,” Hope said, waving awkwardly. “Your hair… it’s shining. Like the sun. But prettier than the sun.”

  Lypin giggled. That sound was worth more to Hope than the cheers of thousands in the arena. She stepped down from the stretcher and took a few steps toward him.

  “You won every match you entered in the arena,” she said. “Everyone’s talking about you. You’ve become a famous warrior.”

  “They were just… simple problems,” Hope said with a shrug. “The floor was uneven. There were balance flaws. I fixed them.”

  Lypin’s expression turned serious. She stepped closer and placed her hand on Hope’s cheek. His breath caught. He felt that warmth again—the one that had kept him warm in the cold of the dungeon. This was what he wanted. This was what he had been trying to reach.

  “Hope, listen to me,” Lypin whispered. “I came here to tell you something. I feel like I had to tell you this. There’s a strange bond between us that I still can’t fully understand. What you need to know is this… I can’t stay here anymore. Not just in this city—I need to go much farther away.”

  “Why? Where?”

  Lypin hesitated. Deep sorrow rippled through her eyes.

  “There’s something inside my body. Most likely that purple thing… that horrible darkness,” she said quietly. “Whatever it is, it’s like a bomb waiting to explode. I can feel it. It keeps me awake at night and harms the things around me. I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do… but someone does. I need to find them.”

  She clenched her fingers.

  “If I can’t find them,” she continued, “the thing inside me will awaken. And if it does, I don’t know what will happen. I don’t want people to get hurt because of me. Like in the past…”

  Hope looked into her eyes. He didn’t need Architect Sight. The fear and desperation he felt when he looked at Lypin were clear. All her emotions were laid bare—raw and exposed. This wasn’t a simple calculation. This wasn’t a puzzle he could solve with logic.

  “Whoever that person is,” Hope said slowly, “if we find them… will everything be okay?”

  “I don’t know,” Lypin said. “But I have to try. I can’t find another solution. But I can’t go alone. The road is long and dangerous. Monsters, bandits, kingdoms—there are too many risks. I need a strong team.”

  Hope took her hand in both of his.

  “I’ll come with you,” he said. There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in his voice. “After all, I’m an Architect. I’ll build the road for you. I’ll raise bridges. I’ll dig tunnels. I’ll defeat anyone who stands in our way. I’ll take you to the person who can save you.”

  Lypin smiled, but a single tear slipped from her eye.

  “Promise?” she asked.

  “I promise,” Hope said. “I’d do anything for you.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Tears streamed from Lypin’s eyes. “I don’t understand why you want to take these risks for me… but thank you. Thank you so much.”

  A knock echoed at the door.

  “Time’s up!” Deniz called out.

  Hope stepped back.

  “Tonight,” he said firmly. “I’m getting out tonight. Be ready.”

  Midnight. Dungeon Blocks.

  After the plan in the mess hall, Hope had one final task left. Muscle. Field and NO9 were waiting in the shadows. Field was biting his nails, while NO9 leaned against the wall, almost invisible. Hope stopped in front of the lowest cell. It was colder than the others. From inside came the sound of bones grinding against each other. Thanks to his Architect powers, he had easily left his own cell.

  “Gashadokuro Jr.,” Hope said, leaning against the iron bars.

  A guttural voice answered from the darkness.

  “Architect… my bones ache. Come closer. Let me rip one out.”

  The massive man stepped into the light. He was covered in dried blood. His white hair and bony face were stained the same crimson as his eyes. In his hand was a blade carved from his own rib.

  “Aren’t you bored here?” Hope asked. “The bones here are… very low quality. Probably calcium deficiency. They break too easily. For an artist like you, that’s an insult.”

  Gashadokuro paused.

  “True,” he growled. “Weak bones are an insult to me. They crack too easily. That is unacceptable.”

  Hope smiled and pulled something from his pocket. It wasn’t a chicken bone stolen from the mess hall. It was a fossilized fragment from the arena’s foundation, a remnant from ancient times. Small, but impossibly hard.

  “Outside,” Hope said, tossing it through the bars, “I heard of a place called the Dragon Graveyard. They say the bones there are so hard that not even diamonds can cut them. Just as you deserve.”

  Gashadokuro caught the fossil midair. He tried to scratch it with his nail. Not even a mark. His eyes gleamed with hunger.

  “Dragon…” he whispered.

  “Come with us,” Hope said. “I’ll take you there. As many bones as you want. As many toys as you want.”

  Gashadokuro stepped closer to the bars. A twisted, horrifying grin spread across his face.

  “Open the door, Architect,” he said. “I am at your command.”

  Hope placed his hand on the lock.

  [Architect Sight]

  The mechanism was simple. Three pins. One spring.

  [Structural Manipulation]

  He struck the lock with the back of his hand. The rusted mechanism shattered from within. The door creaked open.

  Field burst from the shadows. “Are you insane?! Why are you letting that lunatic out?! We should’ve restrained him first!”

  “We need a hammer to break walls,” Hope said calmly. “And he’s a very good hammer.”

  One Hour Later. Ventilation Shaft.

  The arena was shaking. Literally shaking. Above them, in the center of the arena, the Twin Legends were fighting. Scorch and Zero. Fire and ice collided, each of their blows creating tremors every second. The chaos was the perfect cover.

  They crawled through a narrow tunnel. Hope in front. NO9 behind him. Then Field. And at the back, Gashadokuro, barely fitting.

  “Are you sure? Will this plan work?” Field whispered. “Right below us is the kingdom’s guard assembly zone.”

  “Feel the vibration in the stone,” Hope said without stopping. “Scorch is using volcanic attacks. Every strike flexes the main columns by three millimeters. During that flex, the magnetic locks on the vents disengage.”

  Hope pushed the grate in front of him.

  “Now.”

  The cover slid open like butter. They dropped into a wide corridor. This didn’t look like the dungeon. Marble walls. Red carpets.

  “It really is the VIP Floor,” NO9 said excitedly. “The exit’s there. From the balcony to the roof, then we jump into the river.”

  Field exhaled. “We did it. Damn… we actually did it. Unbelievable.”

  Gashadokuro looked around. “This place is too clean,” he said. “No blood.”

  “Move,” Hope said. “Lypin is probably waiting for me outside.”

  They ran. The corridor was empty. All the guards were watching the match below or handling security elsewhere. The exit door came into view. A massive carved oak door. Freedom was right behind it. Hope grabbed the handle.

  THUD.

  The door didn’t open. It didn’t break. It stood there like a mountain. And from the shadows before it, a figure stepped forward. He wore gleaming silver armor. His pauldrons were so massive it looked impossible for him to pass through a doorway. In his hand was a sword longer than his own body. His face was expressionless. His eyes were cold, filled with unshakable conviction.

  “Stop,” the man said.

  He didn’t shout, but his voice rattled the bones of everyone in the corridor.

  “The Law does not permit you to pass this door.”

  Field froze.

  “No, no, no… IMPOSSIBLE!”

  Hope tilted his head. “Who is that?”

  “Negra,” NO9 whispered, his voice filled with fear for the first time. “They call him the Knight of Justice. He never retreats. Never tires. And never… allows an unlawful act. He’s soulless. He only obeys orders. Like the embodiment of justice itself.”

  Negra lifted his massive sword with one hand and drove it into the carpeted floor. The ground cracked.

  “Criminals,” Negra said. “Return to your cells. Or be judged by the blade of Justice.”

  Gashadokuro Jr. stepped forward, licking his bone blade.

  “You’ve got quite large bones,” he grinned. “Breaking them will be fun.”

  “Wait,” Hope said, holding an arm out.

  [Architect Sight: ACTIVE]

  Strangely, this time Hope didn’t see fine cracks or weak points. Negra had no weak point. His stance was flawless. The weaknesses in his body were covered by armor reinforced with magic. His mana was solid like a fortress wall.

  “This man has no weak point,” Hope muttered. “He truly is a wall.”

  Negra raised his sword and pointed it at them.

  “Your efforts are futile,” he said. “Justice will not allow your escape.”

  Hope took a deep breath and summoned his scythe.

  “Then,” he said, his eyes burning with determination, “we’ll have to break that wall.”