In the grim confines of the dungeon, Johan sat quietly in the cell. A faint beam of moonlight slipped through the small window caged with iron bars, casting a slender ray across the cold stone floor.
The walls seemed to close in, suffocating him with their weight, while the air thickened with the scent of damp mildew—the web of darkness, each strand tightening around him.
Around his wrists were shackles, their iron grip as cold and rigid as the dungeon he was bound to. Their weight felt heavy, not just physically but symbolically, like a reminder of the fate thrust upon him.
Banishment.
“…What time is it, anyway?” Johan sighed.
How long had he been sitting inside the cell? A few hours? Maybe? His concept of time had lost all meaning, and the sun had already set. Echoing in the distance were drops of water. It had become Johan’s only measure, a twisted version of a clock—a slow beat that seemed to mock him.
His body grew weary from the ordeals he had gone through. His eyes, heavy with fatigue, began to close. Just as his eyelids lowered, a faint light materialized before him. Johan blinked, his eyes adjusting to the strange light.
Menus unfolded like the pages of an ancient tome—inventory, sparse and bare. A minimap blinked in the corner, revealing nothing more than the cramped dimensions of the holding cell.
For a moment, his incredulity warred with fascination as he stared at the screen.
“…The Sanity System…”
A status bar pulsed softly, alive with faint energy. An experience gauge shimmered in the corner, taunting him with its empty potential.
Johan’s fingers twitched, reaching out as though to touch the screen. It reacted, shifting in response to his gesture, linking him to something greater than himself—a world beyond the confines of his prison.
His mind raced, drawn deeper into the intricacies of the system.
Rows upon rows of grayed-out skills stretched before him—a vast network of possibilities locked away. It was a skill tree, much like those he’d seen in countless games, each skill beckoning, waiting to be unlocked.
He focused on a skill that promised to amplify his next attack. It felt tantalizingly close, yet so far away. He could almost hear the voices of his friends cheering him on, urging him to be more than just an outsider.
A laugh bubbled up in his chest. “A skill tree… even here? Those nerds would love this.”
Each movement within the menu filled him with a sense of possibility. It was strange yet exciting how the very fabric of the world seemed to respond to his commands. He felt alive again—in a way, the shackles couldn’t bind.
“Hmm, five skill points. Not much, but enough to start with.”
Johan’s fingers hovered over the “Unlock” option. Although the system felt like it, he knew what was to come wasn’t just a game anymore. Here, the choices weren’t about leveling up to face some raid boss; this was his reality and how he would survive in this world.
What would unlocking these skills even mean? Would it make him more like them—the heroes? Or worse, more like the monsters from the Penumbra?
He gritted his teeth, the pressure of his indecision building.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered, staring at the glowing options. “So why does it feel like it’s controlling me?”
Johan sighed. “I guess I did… It must all have something to do with my vow with Sanity.”
Just then, his gaze locked onto the quest tab. The words “Main Quest” stood out, bold and impossible to ignore: “Clear the Penumbra.”
Why did he have it as a quest? Clearing the Penumbra was a task that had fallen upon the chosen ones, his friends, the Heroes of Prophecy.
It was a mission meant for those with destiny and purpose—a mission that felt alien to him. But here it was, staring back at him as if daring him to rise to the challenge.
His ears twitched, alerting him that he was no longer alone. As he marveled at the system’s intricacies, he had been unaware of the soft footsteps echoing through the dungeon.
Each step seemed louder than the last, and then—silence.
From the shadows, a figure emerged, hidden in a flowing black cloak that seemed to swallow the light. The hood concealed their face, but there was something almost unnatural about their presence, as though the shadows themselves bent to accommodate their steps.
Johan stayed motionless, pressing his back against the cold stone wall.
“Hey, could you leave me alone? I’m trying to get some shut-eye here.”
Was it one of the king’s men? He doubted it was a mere guard. Or what if it was? A guard on patrol?
His thoughts rambled on.
The figure stood just outside his cell, slender fingers reaching to draw back the hood. Johan watched as the hood revealed a face belonging to another world.
“And who are you?” Johan asked as a woman stood before him. Her skin was smooth and pale, and her soft, milky glow gave her an almost luminous quality. A cascade of long, pink hair, shimmering like silk as it spilled over her shoulders, framed her delicate shape.
Her eyes—rosé-colored and gleaming faintly in the dark—held an intensity that captivated and unsettled.
Without a word, she raised a key from the folds of her cloak. With a few swift turns, the cell door swung open.
“Johan,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ve come to offer you a chance at freedom. Will you accept?”
“Freedom? Oh yeah? What’s the catch? Cause my days of making deals with pretty women are over.”
“There’s no catch. I want to help you.”
“Help me?” Johan blinked, his mind struggling to catch up with the surreal scene. “…Wait a second, you look familiar.”
With a quiet smile, she knelt beside him, inserting a second key into the lock around his shackles. Sounds of metal rang out as the heavy chains clattered to the floor with a dull thud.
“My name is Elara Audermas,” she said calmly.
“You were in the crowd today, weren’t you?”
Johan rubbed his wrists, the cool air brushing against the skin where the shackles had been.
“Yes. But I can’t entirely agree with my father’s ruling.”
“So, you’re the king’s daughter? I figured royalty had better things to do than bail out someone like me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call this bailing someone out.”
“True. So, why are you here? To resolve some daddy issues, or is this just another brilliant scheme of his?”
“…If you don’t leave here now, you’ll die.”
“… I’ll die? I thought the plan was to banish me…”
“No. My father’s plans have changed.”
Her words had rushed him like a flood after rainfall. The daughter of the man who ruled this kingdom stood before him, delivering his death sentence but offering a lifeline in the same breath.
It wasn’t the kind of gesture he’d expected—especially not from the princess whose father is the man who put him here.
Elara shook her head, her silky pink hair shimmering faintly in the dim light. “I overheard my father and his council.”
Her words matched the coldest of the dungeon air. “My father and his council, they believe you’re too dangerous to let live.”
Her eyes drifted briefly to the small caged window and the moon. “They plan to execute you at dawn.”
The silence that followed was smothering, settling like lead in water. Johan’s mind reeled. All he could do was stare.
If what Elara said was true, and his execution was on the horizon, his friends might lose more than just him. They could lose whatever slim chance they have to confront the inside of the Penumbra. They’d be left to shoulder the burden of a prophecy they never asked for.
Johan’s eyes searched Elara’s face for a crack. Some signs that would indicate she was spouting lies.
“But why?” he asked. “Why are you telling me all this? What do you gain from helping me? I’m not one of the heroes. I’m just some guy your father threw in a cell.”
His words were like a challenge, though his confusion was genuine—and for the first time since she arrived at his cell, Johan saw vulnerability in Elara’s eyes.
“For years, I’ve watched my father’s paranoia grow with each passing day. He rules with fear. He sees threats where there are none. He sees you as one of those threats, but I believe you’re not one my father needs to fear.”
Johan listened intently.
“You might be the change we need. The darkness spreading across Eosdadalon requires more than just brute strength. It requires a different perspective. Something none of us can comprehend. The people who are fortunate enough to return from the Penumbra have no recollections of what occurred during the time inside it, but you, I can tell you, know more than you lead on.”
Before finishing her thought, Elara hesitated, biting her lip as if lost in thought. “I’m sure you have your reasons, but you’re the only one who might have the perspective we desperately need…. If I’m wrong, I’ll have betrayed my father for nothing…”
Johan noticed the way her hands trembled, just slightly, before she clenched them into fists. The tremble wasn’t just from rebellion—it was fear as well.
“Princess, I’ll ask you this once more. Why are you telling me all this? What do you gain from helping me?
Elara’s gaze slowly met his again; her vulnerability was laid bare.
“…I’ve lived my entire life under my father’s rule, watching him lay waste to whatever doesn’t fit his vision. I no longer will be a silent witness when our world is on the verge of being consumed, lost to the darkness of the Penumbra. If you can change things, then I will stand by your side. You owe this world nothing, but Johan, I beg of you, please, if you can, help us…”
Elara’s words settled between them like an unspoken promise. They were heavy, yet oddly enough, reassuring. Johan didn’t know what to make of it. None of this made sense, but then again, since his arrival, nothing has, and somewhere, deep in the pit of his gut, an instinct he couldn’t explain urged him to believe her.
King Audermas had branded him a danger to the kingdom. But here, standing before his daughter, Johan knew he was wrong. The system, the Penumbra, the king’s fear—it was all connected. The pieces hadn’t fallen into place yet, but he could feel them building like pressure behind a dam.
He wasn’t just some outcast. Something bigger was happening here, and maybe he was part of it. Perhaps he wasn’t a danger to the kingdom or Eosdadalon. Maybe Elara was right, and he could be its savior in disguise.
Shifting forward, Johan took a deep breath and extended his hand.
“So, does that mean I can count on you?” Elara asked, staring at Johan’s hand.
“It would be rude to ignore a damsel in distress.”
Elara smiled before shaking his firm hand in the coldness of the dungeon’s cell. “Trust me, I’m no damsel in distress, but thank you, Johan…”
“It was either that or getting my head put up for display on the city walls. Trusting you sounds like the better option.”
Elara couldn’t contain her laughter before quickly silencing herself with her hand. “Come on, we must leave before they decide to patrol.”
Johan followed the princess through the winding, hidden corridors of the castle, every step measured, every breath shallow. The further they descended, the more the significance of the situation pressed down on him.
They weren’t just sneaking out—they were fleeing under the threat of death. At any moment, one of the king’s men could turn the corner, or worse, Enfys could show up with his cold, unblinking eyes.
The torchlights flickered, casting jagged shadows that twisted and writhed along the rough walls. The narrow passages snaked through the castle’s bowels like a forgotten labyrinth, yet Elara moved effortlessly, her cloak trailing behind her like a whisper on the wind.
Every step she took seemed deliberate and graceful, her movements as fluid as the mist curling through the damp corridors. Every corner they turned made Johan’s heart race, his instincts on high alert. The distant sound of clinging metal echoed, making him freeze momentarily.
Each corner they turned plunged them deeper into the unknown. The air grew colder with every step, thick with the scent of earth and ancient gravel. He couldn’t help but notice that the castle seemed as if the walls themselves were watching, waiting.
A faint glow from the castle’s outer lanterns bled through cracks in the stone walls. Elara motioned for Johan to stay put as they neared an archway leading to an open courtyard. She peeked around the corner and immediately stiffened.
Chatting in low voices, two soldiers on patrol were gambling and playing cards, but the occasional clink of their weapons made Johan’s nerves fray.
Elara looked back to Johan and whispered, “Wait here. Not a word from you.”
“You better know what you’re doing, Princess.”
Ignoring his remark, Elara gracefully stepped into the courtyard, making Johan wonder if she’d done this before. The soldiers straightened at her approach, scrambling to cover the evidence of their card game.
“Princess Elara?” one of them said, clearly startled. “What are you doing out here so late?”
Elara raised her chin. “Hmm, well, I couldn’t sleep. A walk through the courtyard to clear my mind. Hopefully, it helps.”
The other soldier frowned. “At this hour? It’s dangerous, even within the walls.”
Elara smiled faintly, stepping closer to the men. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I’ll be safe with two of the kingdom’s finest soldiers nearby.” She tilted her head, her tone taking on a playful edge. “Unless you think my father’s men cannot protect a lone princess?”
“…Well, of course not, Your Highness,” the first soldier stammered as he and his counterpart exchanged uneasy looks. “But the orders are no one is to wander the grounds after nightfall.”
Elara stepped forward between the soldiers. “And yet here I am. Surely you won’t report me for something as harmless as a midnight stroll?”
“We wouldn’t dare to do such a thing. But orders are orders.”
“Exactly. If the captain—”
“Good thing Captain Enfys nor my father are here, right?” Elara interrupted with a smile as she shuffled the pack of playing cards.
“But, Your Highness—”
“Cards, money, I can smell the stench of brew on your breaths,” Elara stated, interrupting the soldiers again. “What would happen if the Captain or my father got wind of this.”
The first soldier swallowed hard in discomfort. “Right.”
“Excellent. I’m glad we could come to a compromise.”
Elara turned as if to leave but paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, one more thing. I heard some strange noises coming from the western wing earlier. It could be nothing. But with all the recent disturbances since the heroes arrived.”
The soldiers exchanged a look before nodding. “You’re right. Thank you, Your Highness.”
“Good. Carry on, then.” Elara waved them off as they hurried away.
Once they were out of sight, she gestured for Johan to approach.
“Nice work,” he whispered. “Took the manipulation route. Scary.”
Elara rolled her eyes, “I’m no ‘damsel in distress’ I told you this.” She grabbed his arm, pulling him forward. “You should save the compliments for later. We’re not out of this yet.”
