The prison was a labyrinth of crumbling walls, flickering lights, and the constant hum of tension.
Ten hours had passed since Raen found himself thrust into this chaotic environment. In that time, he had done nothing but observe and explore.
The mess hall, now a ruined shell of its former self, was the central gathering point for the prisoners.
Raen sat in a corner, his back against the cold stone wall, his sharp eyes scanning the room.
He had been silent for most of those ten hours, choosing to listen rather than speak. Every word, every movement, every glance—he cataloged it all.
The prisoners were a mixed group. Some were clearly hardened fighters.
Others were more cautious. A few had already begun to form tentative alliances, though none seemed strong enough to last.
The atmosphere was volatile, like a powder keg waiting for a spark. But so far, no large fights had broken out. Everyone was too busy trying to figure out the rules of this deadly game.
Raen, however, had already pieced together a crucial detail: the Enforcers weren't just guards. They were players too. This realization changed everything.
Raen's first realization was that he couldn't trust anyone. The Enforcers were hidden, and they could be anyone—someone sitting across the room, someone pretending to be a scared prisoner, or even someone who seemed like a potential ally.
He had to assume that every word he spoke, every move he made, was being watched.
His second realization was that the Enforcers would act to thin the herd. They would target groups, break up alliances, and eliminate anyone who posed a threat.
If Raen could predict where they would strike, he could set a trap. But how?
The answer came to him slowly.
I need to create a false sense of security. If I can make the prisoners believe that certain areas of the prison are safe, they'll naturally gather there. And if the Enforcers believe those gatherings are a threat, they'll attack. But I'll be one step ahead. I'll lure the Enforcers into a trap of my own making.
Raen's plan was simple in concept but required careful execution. He would spread the idea that certain areas of the prison were safe—places where prisoners could regroup, rest, and plan their next moves. These "safe zones" would be a lure, drawing both prisoners and enforcers to the same location.
But while the prisoners would see these zones as a refuge, Raen would see them as a battlefield.
The key to the plan was subtlety. I can't just announce the safe zones to the entire group. That would be too obvious, and the Enforcers would see through it immediately. I need to plant the idea indirectly, letting it spread naturally through the prison.
Raen knew he had to be careful. One wrong move, one careless word, and the Enforcers will catch on. I can't afford to make a mistake.
—
He had spent every hour mapping the key areas, memorizing every turn, every dead end, every potential advantage, because every 3 hours, the layout would change.
He just arrived at the mess hall after exploring the new layout of this wager. These are the current places of the new layout:
To the east, beyond a rusted gate, lay the East Wing—a dark, damp section of the prison. It was isolated, too easy to corner someone.
To the west, the prison opened into the Mess Hall, a ruined space that had once been a gathering place. Central but exposed, it was the most dangerous place to be.
The southeast courtyard was where Raen was setting his trap. A crumbling open area, littered with debris, it was isolated enough to seem safe but close enough to draw attention.
He had spread the word—subtly, carefully—that it was a refuge. And now, the enforcers were taking the bait.
Deep in the northern tunnels lay the Storage Vaults, stocked with supplies but heavily guarded. And above it all loomed the central tower.
For now, Raen's focus was on the southeast courtyard. It was the linchpin of his plan, the place where he would lure the enforcers and set his trap.
But as he stood there, a faint unease crept into his thoughts.
This place is a maze, he thought, his eyes narrowing. And I'm not the only one who knows it.
—
He started by identifying key individuals—people who could help him spread the idea without realizing they were part of his plan.
The first was Kael Draven, a sharp-eyed woman who had been observing the room just as intently as Raen. She hadn't made any moves yet, but he could tell she was calculating her options.
Raen approached her quietly, keeping his voice low. "The southeast hallways," he said, his tone casual but deliberate. "They're quiet. Probably the best place to regroup."
Kael raised an eyebrow, studying him for a moment before nodding slightly. She didn't say anything, but Raen could see the gears turning in her mind.
Next, he sought out Sister Maren, a religious figure who had already drawn a small following. Raen knew that people would listen to her.
"There's a storage room near the east wing," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's secure. If you're looking for a place to gather your people, that's where I'd go."
Sister Maren gave him a thoughtful look but didn't question him. She simply nodded and began speaking to her followers, her voice carrying just enough to be overheard by others.
Finally, Raen approached Jarek, a nervous boy who had been pacing the room since they arrived. Jarek was the type to spread information quickly, especially if he thought it would help him survive.
"The southeast hallways," Raen said, his tone urgent but not panicked. "They're safe. If things go bad, that's where you should go."
Jarek's eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly before hurrying off to share the news with anyone who would listen.
---
With the plan in motion, Raen stepped back to watch. If the Enforcers believe that prisoners are gathering in specific areas, they'll strike to break up the groups. But I'll be ready.
He kept a close eye on the room, noting every reaction.
As he watched, Selene approached him.
"You're not actually going there, are you?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any hint of deception.
Raen glanced at her. "Would it matter if I was?"
Selene tilted her head slightly. "It might. Depends on what you're trying to accomplish."
Raen held her stare. "And what do you think I'm trying to accomplish?"
She hesitated for a moment. "You're not the type to follow the crowd. If you're pointing people toward the southeast hallways, it's not because you think it's safe. You're setting something up."
Raen didn't flinch. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just trying to survive like everyone else."
Selene's eyes flicked toward the growing crowd near the southeast entrance, then back to him. "Survival doesn't look like this. You're playing a different game."
Raen allowed the faintest hint of a smile to touch his lips. "And what game are you playing, Selene?"
She didn't answer immediately, her expression hardening. "One where I believe on no one. Especially not someone who's too quiet for too long."
Raen nodded slowly, as if acknowledging her point. "Fair enough. But trust isn't the point right now. Staying alive is."
Selene studied him for a moment longer, then stepped back. "Just remember—if your plan blows up, it's not just you who'll pay for it."
Raen watched her walk away. She's sharp. Too sharp to ignore. But for now, she's not a threat—just a wildcard.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. The plan was already in motion, and the Enforcers would take the bait. All he had to do was wait.
—
The southeast courtyard, a decrepit area with collapsed walls and scattered debris, had become the focal point of Raen's plan.
Small groups of prisoners, lured by whispers of safety, began to trickle in.
Raen watched from the shadows. He noted the faces of those who entered: some were desperate, others cautious, and a few—like Lira Voss and Thorne—seemed to be testing the waters.
The courtyard was a ruin.
The ground was littered with broken furniture and rusted metal. Now, it was a trap—one that Raen had carefully set.
He leaned against a crumbling pillar, his arms crossed. This is it. The first move. If the enforcers take the bait, I can control the battlefield. If they don't… He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't afford to doubt himself now.
Lira Voss stepped into the courtyard, her sharp eyes darting around.
She wasn't convinced.
"This feels wrong," she said to Thorne. "Why would there be a safe zone here? It's too exposed."
Thorne grunted, scanning the area. "Better than waiting to be hunted like rats. You got a better plan?"
Lira's jaw tightened. She didn't like Thorne's tone, but she couldn't argue with his logic.
The prison was a death trap, and every second spent out in the open was a risk. Still, something about this place set her on edge.
"If this is a trap, we're walking right into it," she said.
Thorne shrugged. "Then we'll deal with it. I'm not staying out there with those enforcers lurking around."
Lira didn't respond, but her hand twitched toward the weapon hidden in her sleeve.
—
Moments later, chaos erupted.
An unseen enforcer struck from the shadows.
A scream echoed through the courtyard as the first prisoner fell.
It was Heston Marrow, a wiry man with a nervous disposition who had been clutching a rusted pipe for protection.
His body crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.
[Active Participants: 13]
"They're here! The enforcers are here!" Gerrard Eld shouted.
The courtyard descended into chaos. Prisoners ran in every direction.
Raen watched from the shadows, his lips tightening. It's working. The enforcers are taking the bait.
But his satisfaction was short-lived.
---
Elias Veyra stood at the edge of the courtyard.
His sharp features were framed by a faint smirk, and his eyes—cold and calculating—scanned the room like a predator surveying its prey. He didn't run.
He didn't panic. He simply watched, as if the screams and bloodshed were nothing more than a mildly interesting spectacle.
Nearby, Jarek, a nervous boy clutching his wooden token like a lifeline, stumbled toward him. His breath came in short.
"They're killing everyone!" Jarek stammered. "What do we do? Where do we go?"
Elias turned to him slowly, his smirk widening into a chilling grin. "Oh, Jarek," he said. "You're asking the wrong questions."
Jarek blinked, confused. "W-what do you mean?"
Elias leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper that was somehow more terrifying than a shout. "The question isn't where to go. It's who to trust. And right now, you're trusting the wrong people."
Jarek's eyes darted around nervously. "But… Raen said this was the safe zone. He said—"
Elias cut him off with a low, humorless laugh. "Raen? That quiet fool? He's leading you all to slaughter. But me?" He paused. "I know where the real safety lies."
Jarek hesitated. "How… how do you know?"
Elias's eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity. "Because I've been playing this game longer than any of you. And I don't lose."
Jarek swallowed hard. "Where… where is it? The real safe zone?"
Elias straightened, his smirk returning. "East. Beyond the broken gate. But you'll have to move quickly. And quietly. The enforcers are watching."
Jarek nodded. "Okay… okay, I'll follow you."
Elias's grin widened, but there was no warmth in it—only a cold, calculating satisfaction. "Good boy, Jarek. Very good boy."
His plan was already in motion, and he didn't need Raen—or anyone else—to interfere.
---
Raen was still hidden in the shadows. His focus was on the enforcers, on the chaos he had set into motion.
But even as he watched, a faint unease crept into his mind. Something felt… off.
He shook it off, forcing himself to focus. The enforcers are reacting. That's what matters. Stick to the plan.
But in the corner of the courtyard, Elias Veyra stood like a shadow.
And Raen, for all his careful planning, had no idea what was coming.
---
The chaos in the courtyard was reaching a fever pitch.
Prisoners scrambled in every direction.
Raen watched from the shadows. His plan was working—too well, perhaps.
The enforcers were falling into his trap, but the cost was higher than he'd anticipated.
Then, without warning, an explosion rocked the courtyard.
The blast came from the east. Smoke billowed into the air, choking the prisoners and obscuring their vision.
Raen instinctively dropped into a crouch, his hand reaching for the dagger hidden in his sleeve. His mind raced. This wasn't part of the plan. Who—or what—just did that?
From the haze, a figure emerged.
He wore a crimson mask, the deep red standing out starkly against the gray ruins.
His movements were deliberate.
The prisoners froze.
The masked figure stepped into the center of the courtyard, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
"You've all been played," he said, his tone calm but firm. "The enforcers walk among you."
The tension in the air shifted. Prisoners glanced at one another. The enforcers—hidden among them—remained silent.
Raen's jaw tightened. Who is this guy? And what's his game?
The masked figure moved with eerie precision.
He stopped in front of Lira Voss, who stood near the edge of the courtyard.
Without hesitation, the Crimson Mask gripped her wrist and yanked her forward. A blade appeared in his other hand, pressing against her throat.
"This one," he said, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "This one is an enforcer."
A ripple of shock moved through the crowd. Her fingers twitched, but she didn't deny it.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" she snarled. "But you've just made a fatal mistake."
The Crimson Mask tilted his head slightly. "The only mistake here is yours. You underestimated me."
Raen watched from the shadows. This changes everything. Who the hell is this masked guy?
The revelation sent the courtyard into a frenzy.
Accusations flew, and within moments, the courtyard became a battlefield.
Raen stayed in the shadows. His plan had been to manipulate the enforcers, to lure them into a trap of his own making.
But now, with the Crimson Mask's intervention, everything was spiraling out of control.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
He had everything under control. He had the enforcers right where he wanted them. And now, this masked lunatic had thrown a wrench into everything.
Raen's jaw tightened. He stepped out of the shadows, his eyes locked on the Crimson Mask.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice sharp and angry.
The crowd didn't even pay attention to both of them. The accusations continued as the two spoke with each other.
The masked figure turned to him. "Someone who doesn't like being played," he replied, his tone calm but with an edge that sent a chill down Raen's spine.
Raen's eyes narrowed. "You just ruined everything."
The Crimson Mask tilted his head slightly, as if considering Raen's words. "Or maybe I just saved you from making a fatal mistake."
Raen's hands clenched into fists. He wanted to argue, to demand answers, but he knew better. The courtyard was in chaos, and every second wasted was a second closer to disaster.
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn't afford to lose control. Not now.
The courtyard was a storm of chaos.
Raen stood at the edge of the chaos, his jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides. His plan—his carefully calculated, meticulously executed plan—was now in ruins.
The Crimson Mask stood a few feet away.
He watched Raen with an almost amused tilt of his head.
Raen's eyes burned with anger as he stepped forward, his voice low but sharp. "You think you're helping? You just threw everything into chaos."
The Crimson Mask didn't flinch. His voice was calm, almost conversational, as if they were discussing the weather rather than the lives being lost around them.
"Sometimes, chaos is necessary. It reveals the truth. And the truth is, you were playing a dangerous game, Raen. One you couldn't win on your own."
Raen's jaw tightened. "I had it under control."
"Did you?" The masked figure tilted his head.
"Your plan was clever, I'll give you that. But it was fragile. One misstep, and it would've collapsed. I just… accelerated the process."
Raen took a step closer. "You don't get to decide that. You don't get to come in here and ruin everything I've been working for."
The Crimson Mask didn't back down. Instead, he extended a gloved hand toward Raen.
"Join me," he said, his voice steady. "You're smart. Resourceful. You see the bigger picture. But you're wasting your potential playing these small games. Together, we could do something… extraordinary."
Raen stared at the outstretched hand. For a moment, the chaos around them seemed to fade, the world narrowing to just the two of them.
Then, without hesitation, Raen extended his hand and slapped the Crimson Mask's hand away.
His voice was low, but the anger in it was unmistakable.
"I don't work with people who think they can manipulate me. And I sure as hell don't work with people who think they can just waltz in and ruin everything I've built."
The Crimson Mask didn't react to the rejection. He simply lowered his hand.
"A shame," he said, his tone almost regretful. "You could've been something great."
Raen's eyes narrowed. "I already am. And I don't need you to prove it."
The masked figure studied him for a moment longer, then turned away.
"You'll change your mind," he said over his shoulder. "When the dust settles, and you realize you can't do this alone, you'll come looking for me."
Raen watched him go, his fists still clenched, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.
He didn't trust the Crimson Mask. He didn't trust anyone who thought they could control him.
Selene appeared beside him. She had been watching the exchange.
"He's dangerous," she said, her voice low.
Raen didn't look at her. His eyes were still fixed on the spot where the Crimson Mask had disappeared into the smoke. "I know."
"And he's not wrong," Selene added. "You can't do this alone."
Raen finally turned to her. "I don't have a choice. Trusting people like him—people like you—is what gets you killed."
Selene didn't argue. She simply nodded, her gaze shifting back to the chaos in the courtyard. "Then what's your move?"
Raen exhaled slowly, his mind already working through the new variables. The enforcers were exposed, but so was his strategy.
The prisoners were too panicked to follow any plan, and the Crimson Mask was an unknown element—one Raen couldn't afford to ignore.
"First," he said, his voice steady despite the anger still burning in his chest, "I need to figure out who that masked guy is. And then… I need to make sure he doesn't get in my way again."