I pressed my back against cool stone, struggling to catch my breath as I peered around another corner.

  Endless corridors branched and twisted, each identical to the last, each lined with metal doors bearing the scars of age and rust. Coral lamps cast an eerie glow across the walls, making the shadows dance and writhe.

  I shifted, and my whole body screamed in protest. Gritting my teeth, I stiffened, allowing the pain to pass. The guard's "enhanced interrogation" had left its mark—every vein felt like a guitar string pulled too tight, ready to snap at the slightest movement. But I couldn't let it slow me down. I forced myself to straighten, to adopt the measured stride of someone who belonged here. Just another guard making his rounds. Nothing to see.

  The stale, recycled air gave way to fresher currents here, carrying the familiar tang of salt and seaweed. It was amazing how something so simple could feel like luxury after hours in that cramped cell. Beneath my stolen breastplate, Gripjaw shifted restlessly, his carapace scraping against my skin. The creature's presence was oddly comforting—a reminder that even in this maze of stone and steel, I wasn't completely alone.

  Up ahead and out of sight, Cronia scouted our escape route. Her voice echoed in my mind, recalling her earlier instructions: Focus on your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It will help restore your stamina and MP.

  She hadn't been wrong. I’d already regained two precious points of MP, though the pain remained sharp as ever. Only a missed notification provided any real distraction:

  [Fight with Prison Guard] [+50 XP]

  [+50 XP to (Brawler)]

  [+15 XP to (Melee)]

  At least I'd gotten something for my trouble, beyond just the guard's armor and sword. I'd even grabbed his dinner plate on the way out—could make a decent shield or something in a pinch. The communication crystal I was steering clear of for now, but the medallion…that was interesting.

  The interface showed it clearly: a bronze coin that felt heavier than it looked, etched with breaking chains—the same symbol I'd seen tattooed on the guard's skin. Was that just a guild mark? Or something more sinister?

  The corridor split ahead—another endless hallway of cells to the left, an open passage to the right. I reached out to the goddess with a thought. Cronia?

  Found the exit, she responded immediately. But something's wrong here. I passed several guards on my way. Some dead. Others… She hesitated. Others fighting each other.

  I frowned, processing this. Guards turning on guards? And why try to kill me over punching a councilman? Even Wavehaven's harsh laws didn't warrant death for that. At least, not that I knew of.

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  "Hey! Down here!"

  The harsh whisper made me jump, and glance down. Through a wide-barred drainage grate, a shadow moved, barely visible in the dim light.

  "You think you're better than us?" The woman's voice dripped venom and bitter rage. "That you deserve to lord over the rest while we scramble for scraps?"

  I couldn't make out her features in the gloom, couldn't tell if she was Tidewalker or Beachstrider, but her fury needed no illumination.

  "The tides are changing," she snarled, fingers curling around the bars. "A new power rises—one that will crush you privileged rats to paste! Your days are numbered!"

  Something in her voice made me hesitate. The helpless fury. The alienation. I knew that feeling—the rage at an instution far beyond my power. How many others like her were there in Wavehaven? How many had the masked cult leader seduced with promises of revolution, never revealing his true plan to destroy everything?

  Two guards appeared ahead, muttering to one another. I straightened my spine and tried to project authority, but my heart hammered against my ribs. They were Tidewalkers, shorter than me—and in the coral light, I could see their faces clearly. Which meant they could see mine just as well. Not ideal for the only Beachstrider "guard" in the prison.

  The first one made an odd gesture with his fingers. "Click-clack goes the key," he whispered.

  Cronia!

  It's a code phrase! Her mental voice crackled with urgency. I've been watching. The others reply with 'Crack goes the chain.'

  "Crack goes the chain.”

  The guard's hand clamped onto my arm like a vise. In the dimness, I noticed broken chain tattoo on his exposed wrist, the links twisted and sharp. Desperate, I pulled out the medallion, letting it catch the light. The guard's grip relaxed fractionally. He patted my arm in what seemed like approval.

  Then his fist crashed into my jaw with explosive force.

  Stars burst across my vision as I staggered back. Cronia screamed in my mind, the sound like shattering glass. Through the daze, I activated Rewind, pulling time back five precious seconds.

  This time, as the guard's hand settled on my arm, I struck first. My fist connected with his jaw with a satisfying crunch. I launched forward, sprinting past his stunned companion. Their shouts echoed behind me, spurring me faster.

  This way! Cronia darted ahead, her form a silvery streak in the gloom. The exit's close!

  I rounded a corner at full speed and nearly stopped dead. More guards ahead—but these ones were binding their own colleagues, stripping them of weapons and armor. They looked up at my approach, reaching for their swords. In desperation, I flashed the medallion again.

  "Help!" I pointed behind me. "They're after me!" Both guards rounded the corner, sprinting towards me, one with a bloody nose.

  The ones up ahead exchanged quick glances before charging past, drawing their blades. I didn't wait to see what happened next. I pocketed the medallion and ran, following Cronia through the maze of corridors as shouts and the clash of steel echoed from every direction. Whatever war was being fought in Wavehaven's shadows, I wanted no part of it.

  She led me to a room with a window open to the night air. Without calculating, without hesitation, I dove through. The fall was longer than expected—several dozen feet to the sand below. The impact sent a shock through my bones, my health bar dropping dangerously. But adrenaline kept me moving, pushing me past the pain as I scrambled to my feet.

  I sprinted down a moonlit street, kicking up sand with every stride, searching for any hint of safety in this city of shadows and broken chains. Behind me, shouts and running feet suggested the guards hadn't given up their pursuit.

  [Experience gained: 25 XP]

  [New Skill Unlocked: Escape Artist]

  [Passive Ability: Pursuit - Movement speed increased by 15% while being chased]

  But they’d learn a valuable lesson tonight.

  They'd learn that catching a Beachstrider wasn't as easy as they thought. Wavehaven might belong to the privileged and their precious council, but these streets? These shadows?

  They belonged to me.