It had been a year and a half since Vael was first imprisoned in the facility. In that time, many things had changed.
First, his strength.
Through relentless training and brutal experimentation, Vael had pushed his core to the peak of the second stage. In the early days, he relied solely on blink, his short-range teleportation, to survive battles. But over time, he discovered more.
A year ago, after breaking through to Stage 2, he unlocked a new technique — the ability to channel space mana into his blade. When infused with this power, his rapier shimmered with a violet hue, warping the air around it. They called it Sword Aura, but for Vael, it was something more. It was the edge between life and death.
Second, the truth behind the facility.
He eventually learned that the one running the operation — the one behind his pain — was none other than Marquis Veltren, the same lard-shaped noble who had burned down his village. Veltren rarely appeared in person, but when word spread that he was visiting, it took all of Vael's self-control not to track him down and end it right there.
Not yet, he would tell himself. Not until I'm strong enough to finish it properly.
Third, his reputation.
His ranking among the inmates had skyrocketed. Once considered a weakling, he was now ranked in the top twenty. Unlike before, where he relied on blinking and raw panic, Vael had sharpened his technique — he had become a true swordsman. The rapier was no longer just a weapon. It was an extension of him.
And finally, the stone.
Whispers spread through the facility about a strange artifact — a black stone that pulsed faintly with energy. The scientists were fascinated, but its purpose remained a mystery. Rumor had it that it was to be delivered to a noble soon, a reward for their "investment."
But Vael knew what it truly was.
The Regression Stone.
His mother used to speak of it in bedtime stories — a relic that could turn back time for those desperate or foolish enough to use it. A myth. A legend.
Until now.
And this time, it was real.
The day began like any other.
At exactly 6 a.m., Vael woke to the sterile hum of fluorescent lights and the distant echoes of steel boots on concrete. He ate the same tasteless mush with the other inmates, nodding absently to those brave enough to meet his eyes. Then came the lab, where needles and questions awaited.
But today, no fight was scheduled. No blade, no arena, no blood.
That didn't mean he was resting.
Back in his white-walled prison cell, Vael sat cross-legged on the cold floor, deep in meditation. His breath was steady, slow. Inhale. Focus. Exhale. Endure.
The stillness wasn't peaceful — it was a war of patience. Drawing mana from the other dimension was like trying to drink from a storm — chaotic, untamed, and slow. His core, now sharpened through pain and pressure, absorbed it bit by bit. He'd done this routine thousands of times, and every drop of mana mattered.
But then… everything changed.
A shrill alarm pierced the silence.
WAHHH– WAHHH– WAHHH–
Red lights bathed the hallway outside. From the overhead speakers, a panicked voice echoed throughout the facility:
"Warning! Containment breach in Sector Seven. Multiple Class-3 beasts loose. All personnel evacuate immediately—"
Vael's eyes snapped open.
His instincts flared like fire in his veins.
"Now. This is it."
He'd been planning this moment for months — escape routes, guard rotations, mana reserves, all memorized like scripture. But he hadn't expected an opening this perfect.
He stood in a flash, his heartbeat syncing with the alarm's rhythm. Calm. Sharp. Ready.
One blink — the air warped with a crackle, and he was on the other side of his locked cell door.
Outside, chaos had already taken root. Scientists fled in all directions. Automated defenses buzzed with confusion. In the far distance, near the reinforced beast containment zone, inhuman shrieks echoed — wet, feral, terrifying.
He ran in the opposite direction.
His boots pounded against the sterile tiles as he made for the research sector. That's where they kept it. The stone.
His stone.
One more blink carried him through the glass of a restricted lab. The room was a mess — overturned tables, shattered vials, and the unmistakable black glimmer of the Regression Stone glowing faintly on a pedestal.
He didn't waste a second.
He seized it and shoved it into his personal space pocket, hidden in the folds of his prison trousers. A breath later, he blinked out of the room.
So far, too easy.
The upper facility was crumbling under the weight of panic. But Vael knew it wouldn't last. If they regained control, he'd be trapped again — maybe forever.
He sprinted through corridor after corridor, reaching the exit tunnel carved into the mountain itself. There, standing guard at the steel gates, were two soldiers.
Real ones.
"Halt!" one of them shouted, already reaching for his comm. "We've got an inmate—!"
Vael didn't let him finish.
His hand gripped the hilt of his rapier — scarred, worn, familiar. In a blink, he was behind the first man. A clean thrust through the ribs.
The second guard raised his weapon — too slow. Vael blinked again, this time reappearing mid-air. The blade slid through the man's collarbone before he even registered the attack.
Both bodies collapsed.
Vael didn't look back.
The gate was open. The mountain forest yawned beyond — dark, wild, free. His legs carried him into the woods, lungs burning, heart pounding with adrenaline and fury and something close to hope.
But then he heard it.
A heavy rustle. A branch snapping like a bone. Trees trembling.
Something was following him.
Something big.
Vael stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, slowly, narrowing his eyes.
And then he saw it.
Massive. Covered in dark brown fur. Its body was all wrong — limbs too long, joints bent backward, and where its face should've been… there was nothing. Just a blank, fleshy void.
"That's… not one of the usual ones."
It wasn't just any beast.
It was one of them — a unique anomaly, maybe even a failed experiment. And now, it was here, hunting in the same forest he had just escaped into.
Wrong place. Wrong time.
But Vael didn't run.
He reached for his blade again, narrowing his stance.
"If I have to fight for freedom… so be it."
The creature didn't move at first.
It simply stood there, its faceless head tilted as if sniffing the air — sensing something that should not exist outside the labs. Then, with no warning, it charged, each step shaking the ground like distant thunder.
Vael raised his rapier, breath held.
"Low third stage," he muttered, eyes narrowing. "Perfect."
The moment the beast lunged, Vael blinked to the side, narrowly dodging a tree-shattering swipe of its grotesque claws. The sheer force behind the attack was terrifying — had it connected, his body would've been torn in two.
But he couldn't rely on blinking alone. His core was still stabilizing after the escape.
He landed, spun, and slashed at its leg — a deep, clean cut. Space mana flared around his blade, Sword Aura distorting the air like a heat mirage.
The beast screamed — a soundless vibration that rattled his skull — and twisted, bringing down a clawed arm in a brutal arc.
He blinked again.
Too slow.
Its elbow clipped him mid-air, sending him crashing into a tree with a sickening crack.
Pain exploded in his ribs. Something was broken. Maybe more than one thing.
He coughed, tasted blood, and rolled to his feet.
Too fast. Too strong. Too damn heavy.
The beast pounced again — this time, no room to blink. Vael barely parried with his rapier, but the force drove him to his knees, blade screeching under the pressure. The creature leaned in, its fleshless face just inches from his.
"Not yet," he growled. "Not like this!"
With a roar of desperation, he pushed back, space twisting around his body. He blinked — not to escape, but through the beast's arm. The rapier cleaved cleanly, slicing through corrupted muscle with magical precision.
The creature howled again, stumbling, arm severed.
But Vael was staggering too. His left arm hung limp. A gash ran across his thigh. His breathing was shallow. His vision blurred.
Is this it? After everything…?
No.
No.
Deep within his core, something stirred — not just mana, but conviction. Rage. Grief. Hope. Years of torture. His family's laughter, long gone. Veltren's voice. Dr. Smith's cold smile. The memory of flames swallowing his village.
His mana surged.
Pain was replaced by pressure — unbearable, suffocating pressure building in his chest, like his core was expanding too fast, too violently.
Then—
Boom.
The forest around him bent. Space rippled outward in every direction like a stone dropped in water. Trees twisted. The air shimmered.
His core ignited anew.
Stage three.
The beast stopped in its tracks, as if sensing the shift — as if realizing it had just lost the upper hand.
Vael's eyes glowed faintly with violet light, hair lifting slightly as space itself danced around him. He raised his rapier. The aura around it now solidified into a razor-thin layer of shimmering purple force, crackling at the edges.
He blinked again — faster, sharper.
Appeared above the beast.
His blade came down in an arc that split the air.
A clean cut — diagonal, shoulder to hip.
The beast let out a warped screech — part roar, part dying breath — as its body slid apart and crashed into the forest floor.
Silence followed. Heavy. Cold.
Vael stood there, chest heaving, blood dripping from his side. But he was upright.
Alive.
Victorious.
He looked at the corpse, then at the path ahead — deeper into the woods. No alarms. No walls. No chains.
He was free.
As he looked up, he saw the stars, the night sky for the first time in a long time. He smiled, as if he knew what was coming. And he did:
Revenge.