Chapter 21: The Escape
The Pit of the Forsaken had taken everything from Kim Han—his innocence, his humanity, his soul. But it had given him something in return.
An unbreakable will.
He no longer feared pain. He no longer hesitated to kill. His body, though scarred and battered, had adapted to the darkness.
Now, he was ready.
Tonight, he would escape.
And this time, he would not fail.
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The Last Plan
Han had spent weeks observing the guards, mapping out every detail of their routine. He knew when they patrolled, when they rested, when they left the ladder unattended for even a few seconds.
Seconds were all he needed.
But there was one problem.
The others.
The pit was not empty. Dozens of prisoners still roamed its depths—some as desperate as he once was, others too broken to even try.
Han could not let them ruin his plan.
So he made a choice.
He would kill them all.
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The Slaughter
He struck at night.
In the darkness, he moved like a phantom, his knife flashing through throats before the screams could escape. Blood splattered the stone, bodies crumpled without a sound.
Some fought back.
A man lunged at him with a sharpened bone, but Han caught his wrist and twisted until it snapped. Another tried to bite him, but Han shoved his fingers into the man's eyes, driving them deep.
One by one, they fell.
By dawn, the pit was silent.
Only Han remained.
And for the first time in months—he was alone.
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Climbing to Freedom
The sun had just begun to rise when the guards arrived.
Two of them. Armed. Careless.
They lowered the rope ladder to retrieve the bodies, cursing at the stench of rotting flesh.
Han was already waiting.
The moment the first guard stepped down, Han struck. He grabbed the man's ankle and yanked, sending him tumbling into the pit. The sickening crunch of bones breaking echoed through the cavern.
The second guard barely had time to react before Han was on him.
He climbed.
Faster than ever before.
The guard tried to pull the ladder up, but Han was already reaching for the edge. His fingers wrapped around the cold metal bars. He pulled himself up.
The guard swung his rifle—too slow.
Han grabbed the barrel, twisting it away, and drove his knife into the man's neck. Hot blood sprayed across his face. The guard gurgled, his hands grasping at the wound, before he collapsed.
Han took his rifle.
He was free.
But his escape had just begun.
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The Gauntlet
The pit was beneath a fortress—one of Daichi Sato's hidden compounds. Han had seen glimpses of it before, back when he was first thrown inside.
Stone walls. Iron gates. Guard towers with searchlights.
He had no allies. No backup. No way out except through an army of killers.
But Han did not hesitate.
He sprinted forward, rifle in hand, his knife strapped to his waist. His bare feet hit the cold stone as alarms began blaring through the fortress.
A soldier spotted him.
Han fired. The bullet tore through the man's skull.
Another guard turned the corner—Han dropped to one knee, firing twice. Blood splattered against the wall.
They came at him in waves.
A knife-wielding assassin lunged at him, but Han sidestepped, slamming his rifle butt into the man's jaw. He flipped the rifle, pressing it against the assassin's throat, and pulled the trigger.
A group of soldiers rushed in with machine guns—Han dove forward, rolling under their fire, grabbing a fallen pistol and firing three quick shots.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
They dropped.
He grabbed their weapons. More ammo. More death.
He was no longer a prisoner.
He was a reaper.
And the fortress was his graveyard.
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The Final Gate
Han reached the outer gate.
Steel doors, reinforced and bolted shut. It would take a small army to break through—unless he found another way.
His eyes scanned the courtyard.
Then he saw it.
A truck.
Two guards were loading crates into the back, unaware of the carnage behind them.
Han moved fast.
He sprinted, his heart pounding, his mind cold and focused.
The first guard turned—Han grabbed him by the throat, slamming him against the truck, snapping his neck in a single motion.
The second reached for his gun—Han shot him in the chest.
He was inside.
The engine roared to life.
Bullets rained down from the watchtowers as he pressed the gas, the truck barreling toward the steel doors. Sparks flew as rounds ricocheted off the metal.
Han didn't stop.
He accelerated.
The truck smashed through the gates, metal screeching, debris flying. Guards dove out of the way as the vehicle tore through the compound's outer defenses.
And then—
He was out.
The city lay before him.
The wind howled through his blood-soaked hair. The night was cold, the air fresh.
For the first time in years—
Kim Han was free.
But freedom came at a price.
The pit had taken something from him.
And what remained… was no longer human.
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