Chapter 2: Prison and Allies

"Bang!" With a cloud of long-settled dust billowing into the air, the door was slammed shut with a heavy thud.

The dark, foul-smelling room fell into a terrifying silence, broken only by the sound of ragged human breathing.

As bursts of laughter echoed from outside, the footsteps retreated into the distance; clearly, they held no regard for the wretch left in this dilapidated woodshed turned prison.

"I truly must thank you for your twisted sense of humor," a whisper, tinged with a faint smile, drifted through the darkness. "You animals have given me the chance to slaughter you all."

On the journey here, after being seized by these brutes, Wang Yu had been feigning unconsciousness the entire time.

Though waves of agony surged through his body, such physical sensations had never been an insurmountable obstacle for a man of his iron will.

Upon being tossed into the cell, Wang Yu had pretended to "come to," then began to struggle and howl with a calculated degree of desperation.

This was exactly what the bandits craved, making the brutal torture of their captive a matter of course.

After beating Wang Yu until his face was a mask of blood, their leader, a man named Obi-Wan, had grinned hideously as he drove three nails through Wang Yu’s right hand.

Throughout the ordeal, Wang Yu played his part perfectly, screaming and trembling violently as the iron pierced his flesh.

Evidently, this simple physical torment did not satisfy Obi-Wan; to him, torture was both an art form and a source of pleasure.

Obi-Wan then raised the sword left behind by an old knight and drove it through Wang Yu’s left hand, whispering into the ear of his victim, who was being held down by a cluster of thugs.

"That old fool’s death is all on you. If he hadn't tried to pull you to safety, he might never have been struck by that waste Yegor’s pathetic magic."

"What a pity. Even if he saved your life back then, look at you now—tell me, what is that pinning your palm to the wall? Hahahaha."

"I hope you find time to repent before the dogs tear you apart tomorrow..." Obi-Wan twisted the blade while applying psychological pressure, inflicting a more exquisite agony upon his captive.

Wang Yu thrashed his head, letting out a shrill, piercing roar, trying to drown out the words while attempting to kick at his tormentors.

But every time, Obi-Wan pinned his head down firmly, forcing him to endure the pain while listening to his taunts.

Finally, after another failed attempt to break free, Wang Yu rolled his eyes back and "lost consciousness" once more.

"This one makes for a fine toy. Let him live a bit longer tomorrow. The noble brat is ready, too; once we notify his family, the ransom will be in our hands soon enough."

"Do not touch him—I know what you perverts are thinking—but for God’s sake, wait until we have the money before you go off to die in some woman’s bed. If you can’t control your brains or your hands these next few days..."

Obi-Wan, satisfied as he watched Wang Yu "pass out," stood up, feeling refreshed after his bout of cruelty.

As he instructed his men on the next steps, he slammed a dagger into a wooden table, sending splinters flying as the blade pierced clean through.

"Then don't blame me if I introduce you to the God of Death first."

With that, he led the pack outside, the bandits loudly swearing that they would keep themselves in check, assuring Obi-Wan that he had nothing to worry about.

As the door clicked shut, Wang Yu slowly opened his eyes in the dark.

Wang Yu felt his acting skills had never been great, so he had relied on his high pain tolerance to perform those wildly exaggerated, frantic screams.

Any more nuance, and he might have failed; thankfully, these men, blinded by their own sadistic amusement, had suspected nothing.

He flexed his right hand; the three nails, driven in a triangular formation, held his hand pinned to the wall so firmly that removing it would likely mean tearing the limb to pieces.

He turned his attention to his left hand. As he pulled, the blade tore through his flesh, blood streaming down as the pain shredded his nerves like a tidal wave.

"Vicious, aren't they? It looks easier to escape than the right, but the moment I move, it’s agony..."

The sword was driven deep and at an angle, pinning the palm securely. Without his right hand to assist, any movement would force the blade to rip through his hand, the sheer intensity of the pain enough to render him immobile.

For an ordinary man, this would be a death sentence, leaving him with no choice but to await his execution the following day.

However, with a wet, tearing sound, Wang Yu ignored the pain and forced his left hand along the length of the blade.

Half his palm was sliced open, blood spraying into the air.

With lightning speed, he freed himself from the posture that had kept his head locked in place, and once his neck was mobile, he used his teeth to rip the three nails from his right hand.

With his right hand liberated, Wang Yu quickly stripped off the clothes tied around his waist and wrapped them tightly around his left hand to stem the bleeding.

"Phew, I have to thank them for their twisted tastes. If it had been iron shackles, I’d be truly helpless. And, of course, for this weapon, and for only crippling my left hand... my luck is truly incredible."

Wang Yu dressed his wounds, sighing at his own cursed fortune; even in such dire straits, he maintained an irrepressible, stubborn optimism.

The situation was grim. He was deep in a bandit den, surrounded by enemies, with no idea where to run, and his body was riddled with wounds.

If not for his body being in a "bonus period" of high cellular activity—where his ability to clot blood and prevent infection was four or five times that of a normal human—the situation would be far worse.

He would likely have succumbed to fever and infection, dying a nameless death.

"I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. How will I know if I can make it if I don't try? It’s a choice between a death sentence and a glorious escape with a chance to slaughter these bastards—there’s really no need to agonize over it."

"And that guy, trying to use words to make me feel guilty?"

"Pathetic. They are the source of all this misery. It’s laughable—they want me to repent? I’ll butcher you all and send you to pay for Leonard’s sins."

Muttering to himself, Wang Yu began to survey his surroundings.

The space was cramped, with only a tiny, air-vent-like opening letting in a sliver of faint light.

The air was thick with dust and the stench of decay, a rot that seemed to seep into one's very marrow.

To Wang Yu, this was a blessing; at least these men wouldn't come to such a wretched place unless they had to, significantly lowering the chance of his escape being discovered by patrols.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the dark world revealed itself to him in shades of gray.

The narrow space held little—broken blades, shattered maces, knives, chisels, and strange, serrated spoons of unknown purpose were piled in the corner.

There was no need to guess their function; they were simply "instruments of torture," toys for the bandits' amusement.

What caught Wang Yu’s attention was the figure bound against the wall near the air vent.

His treatment seemed far better than that of the poor wretch pinned to the wall.

He was merely restrained by cuffs on his wrists and ankles, making movement difficult.

He sat in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, his head buried in his arms.

He looked utterly defeated and helpless. Combining this with the snippets of conversation he had overheard while feigning unconsciousness, this must be the noble youth meant for ransom.

Looking closer, he noticed the boy's clothes were of much higher quality than his own rough, unadorned linen rags.

There was decorative trim and fabric of exquisite weave.

While not as ostentatious as the nouveau-riche nobles Wang Yu had seen, the vast chasm in wealth between him and the commoners was clear.

He pondered for a moment; the gap between nobility and commoners in this world was immense.

Even a pig with more feed grows fatter than a normal one; generally speaking, the innate resources available to a noble from birth put them a tier above the common folk.

With their superior education, the idea of nobles being nothing but fat, useless idiots was a fantasy.

The arrogance of the so-called nobility was often suppressed, with their outward behavior reflecting the high quality and capability brought by their upbringing.

Wang Yu decided to recruit an accomplice; this noble youth was a decent choice.

He didn't believe a word of Obi-Wan’s talk about a ransom—that was likely just a story for the underlings.

If a noble family truly knew their kin had been kidnapped, every one of these bandits would find their heads mounted on the city walls.

They were likely destined to be sold to some perverted merchant or a mage looking for experimental subjects.

Either way, the end was death, so he might as well try to escape with him; the worst-case scenario remained the same.

Resolved to find a helper, Wang Yu walked toward him. He wouldn't force the issue—if the boy didn't want to, so be it, as long as he kept quiet and didn't draw the bandits' attention.

He walked over to the youth, whose curled-up figure in the corner of the wall seemed exceedingly frail, definitely younger than Wang Yu.

"Hey, still awake? I'm planning to break out of here. Want to join me?" Wang Yu whispered to the fellow.

Hearing the sound, the youth shuddered violently, then shrank a bit further into the corner, raising his head to look at Wang Yu. It was a very tender face; if Wang Yu had to judge, he was likely around fourteen or fifteen years old.

Because of the dark environment, his complexion was indiscernible, but his eyes were a beautiful blue and his features were very delicate. Noble bloodlines granted most aristocratic offspring a fine appearance, and he was no exception.

It had to be admitted that by Wang Yu’s standards, this youth was very handsome; if Wang Yu scored a fifty-five, this youth would undoubtedly score above an eighty-five.

His gaze fixed upon Wang Yu, revealing the fear, hesitation, and a hint of wariness within.

"Quite a normal reaction," Wang Yu thought to himself.

Wang Yu also knew that not everyone possessed a psychological resilience as terrifying as his own. This display of fear and dread did not make him look down upon the youth as a coward, nor did it provoke any annoyance or dissatisfaction.

"You must understand, in the end, you have no other prospect here except death. Why not try to escape with me? We might still find a sliver of life... Though the chances are slim, one must always try, right? Your family is still waiting for you."

Wang Yu enlightened the fellow before him with a fair amount of patience.

Perhaps Wang Yu’s words had some effect; he noticed that when the word "family" was mentioned, the youth’s eyes suddenly flickered—a clear sign of wavering.

"Trust me. We're both dead men anyway, and there's no other way out now. Why not try with me? If we fight for it, we might die; if we don't, we definitely die."

"Make your choice. My name is Wang Yu. Don't worry about whether the name sounds strange."

"I really don't have the mental capacity to fix myself up with a Western name. A name is just a pronunciation; you just need to know who I am. Come on, tell me your name."

Wang Yu knew he lacked eloquence; he had a very clear assessment of his own abilities, so his conversations with others relied solely on sincerity and practicality.

Of course, that was when facing acquaintances or those with whom he had no grievances; when facing enemies, it was a matter of fists.

It was likely Wang Yu’s optimism—this ability to speak so nonchalantly even in a desperate situation—that inspired the hesitant and shrinking youth before him, for he finally spoke.

"My name is Al... Alvia Dolphin."

Before the fellow could finish his words, Wang Yu directly gripped his shoulders.

Wang Yu had noticed the pause when he spoke his name, though he did not know why.

However, Wang Yu was a man who valued the immediate business at hand. What he needed now was not a friend who trusted him wholeheartedly, but for this youth to move and cast aside his hesitation.

"Good name. Tell me what you're good at, what you can do. Can you fight?"

When Wang Yu gripped his shoulders, the youth shuddered violently again, but perhaps Wang Yu’s words came one after another too quickly for him to react.

He still subconsciously replied, "I... I am an apprentice mage, but I don't know any spells. As for, for combat, I have this... but it's shackled, I can't use it."

The youth answered Wang Yu’s questions in a trembling voice, finally gesturing toward the manacles on his hands with his eyes.

The chains of the manacles were very thin, but for this thin and frail youth, they were truly difficult to open.

It was a malicious jest similar to the one played on Wang Yu—making it look as though there were a possibility of opening them, when in reality it would only plunge a person into greater despair.

Yet, compared to the bloody cruelty inflicted upon Wang Yu, Alvia Dolphin’s handcuffs appeared much more "gentle," though the fundamental malice remained unchanged.

"Damn it, should I thank these people for their twisted sense of humor?"

After examining them, Wang Yu went to work directly. Because the injury on his left hand made it difficult to manage, he used his teeth to secure one side and exerted force with his right hand.

With a sharp snap, a force 0.8 times the absolute limit of human capability snapped the chain, which wasn't particularly thick to begin with.

Startled once more, the youth shuddered at Wang Yu’s violent and decisive action.

Alvia shook free from the restraint on his hands, and Wang Yu, choosing to finish what he started, repeated the trick to free Alvia's feet from the shackles as well.

Looking at Alvia, who was freed from his fetters yet still somewhat at a loss, Wang Yu frowned slightly.

Was this fellow a bit too jumpy? He hoped he could contribute later and not drag him down.

However, what Alvia produced next quickly dispelled Wang Yu’s thoughts of disdain.

On Alvia’s index finger was a tiny, pale pink ring; if one did not look closely, it was indistinguishable from skin. Earlier it had been too dark, and even with his close observation, Wang Yu had not noticed it.

But as Alvia's limbs gained freedom, he brought this finger close to his forehead.

As a faint halo of light flowed and gathered, the ring on his index finger glowed softly and began to change shape.

Transforming from a small cluster the size of a ring into a ribbon of light, it finally converged in the center of Alvia's palm, and an exquisite crossbow appeared in his hand.

"Holy crap, a magical conduit. Truly an aristocrat, indeed. Though isn't using such a thing to make a self-defense crossbow a bit of an overkill?"

Wang Yu was also stunned by this display; magical conduits were hardly common items.

Such a thing was indeed not particularly valuable to those nobles, but in a small place like the one where Wang Yu and the old knight stayed, one wouldn't see one even once in several years.

Moreover, magical conduits were usually rings or necklaces directly imbued with enchantments to cast spells or passively provide buffs.

A magical conduit that directly miniaturized a crossbow, like Alvia's, wasn't to say it was useless, but rather that it was relatively niche and less valuable.

Wang Yu recognized this crossbow; it was the Aleister Military Standard Crossbow Model II. Compared to Model I, it possessed two enchantments: piercing and silence.

Model II enhanced piercing power and stealth; by comparison, it was more inclined toward assassination and concealment, which fit the current situation perfectly.

"Um, my status at home isn't high, and this time it was also because..." Alvia looked somewhat embarrassed and dejected, seemingly prepared to explain what had happened this time.

"Stop, stop, stop. Now is not the time to listen to stories. The most important thing now is to escape, not to spend time understanding each other's history."

"If you want to listen or tell stories, we can speak to our hearts' content once we're out. For now, prepare yourselves. We are slipping out. A frontal breakthrough is impossible; except for being surrounded and slaughtered to death, I can't think of any other outcome."

Interrupted directly by Wang Yu, Alvia appeared somewhat at a loss, much like the feeling of being suddenly stopped by a leader just as you were about to take the stage to speak.

Wang Yu had no time to worry about this, employing his forced-guidance technique once more by gripping Alvia's shoulders and staring into his eyes.

"I don't care what your status at home is, but your status with me right now is definitely higher than at home. I'll tank, you carry, and we'll be invincible, alright?"

This tactic was indeed effective against relatively timid people; if their words were constantly preempted, they would find it impossible to maintain their original train of thought and would instead be led along in a daze.

Coincidentally, Alvia was the more timid party, while Wang Yu was a man of action.

Thus, before Alvia—who was rendered even more confused by Wang Yu’s words—could react.

Wang Yu had already released Alvia's shoulders, lifted a damaged shield thrown in the corner with his left hand, used his right hand to help secure it onto his difficult-to-grip left hand, and prepared to set out.

"Buckle up. I will create opportunities for you. If possible, we sneak out first without drawing attention. If that fails, we'll fight our way out with lethal force," Wang Yu instructed Alvia on how to proceed.

"Don't worry. Before I die, they won't be able to touch you. After all, I'm the tank and you're the carry. Don't read too much into my words, just understand the meaning."

Wang Yu shook his head. "As for those two anomalies—an apprentice mage and an apprentice knight—I can handle the mage..."

"That apprentice knight, hiss, well, that will require something a bit extraordinary." Wang Yu pulled out a whistle, his expression unreadable.

(Note: The human limit of 1 mentioned here simply refers to the peak of humanity in our world. It is the absolute limit, meaning those people you have seen who reached the pinnacle of the world. For instance, a strength of 1 can be compared to the absolute strength of Mike Tyson during his absolute peak, and not just a momentary burst like Tyson's, but a continuous output. Therefore, with a multiplier of 0.8, if one were to participate in the Olympics, they would essentially have a chance to win a gold medal in almost every event.)