Chapter 286: Exodus to the Second Fortress

The corridor lay steeped in a dim, oppressive half-light, lit only by a sparse line of crystal sconces embedded in the ceiling. Luke leaned against the cold stone wall, his heartbeat ticking in time with the silent countdown in his head. Mason’s signal had arrived quietly, a paper with singed edges sliding under the door, simple yet unmistakable. He drew a slow breath and counted off in his mind: one… two… until the full two minutes of the plan passed.

Even here, in a secondary hall chosen for its obscurity and distance from patrol routes, he felt painfully exposed. Luck had been on his side so far, but luck had teeth, especially after his tense, unexpected run-in with Erza Grimhart.

At the appointed moment, Luke exhaled and let the transformation roll over him. His body unraveled into a stream of mist. He slipped across the floor and seeped under the door like a whisper, a fraction of himself scouting the other side. Nothing. No footsteps. Only the muffled hum of distant music and voices from the main hall. Mason was doing his part, pulling eyes away.

He reformed in a crouch, pretending to adjust the heel of a shoe. Rising slowly, the room came into focus, velvet drapes, glittering light, faces turned toward the center. And then he realized something was wrong. Allison was speaking, but not the way they had rehearsed. Not the measured reveal they had planned. Her words cut through the hall like blades, spilling secrets meant to stay buried for days yet. The improvisation was bold, but devastating.

The plan had always been to unveil the second mechanism after moving the Haven’s people, after fortifying their position. Force Bartholomew’s hand carefully, corner him with his own public image. Instead, Allison was shattering the façade here, in the king’s stronghold, with every power broker and soldier listening. A direct strike, a blade to Bastion’s heart.

The faces in the crowd showed it, shock, disbelief, fear. More than anything, Bartholomew’s mask was cracking in real time. The impenetrable king now trembled in silence. The party had dissolved; no more speeches, no more dancing. When Allison finished, the hall sank into a low, electric murmur.

No one stopped her as she walked out. The onlookers were frozen, flooded with questions but paralyzed by the weight of her answers. Her silence became part of the spectacle, feeding the tension even more.

Luke took the opening. He slipped into the restless crowd, moving with the current toward the gates of Bastion. His breathing didn’t steady until he was beneath the night sky, free of the fortress’s suffocating walls.

Outside, the wind carried the scent of cold stone and rusted iron. The chatter of the crowd swelled into a chorus of questions and pleas. Each step felt like both a release and a new burden, the future tilting into the unknown.

“Lady Rhiannon, please, wait! Explain what you meant!” a woman called, her voice trembling with hope.

“Please, I have to know,” said another, a Bastion soldier with a rumpled uniform and feverish eyes. “Is it true? Can we really go back to Earth?”

Allison stopped. The motion was almost choreographed: footsteps ceased, the air itself seemed to lean toward her. She turned, torchlight flickering across her face, a mixture of conviction and exhaustion etched into her features.

“My words won’t be enough,” she said softly but with steel beneath it. “Even if I answer one question, ten more will follow. So I’ll be direct.”

She drew in a long breath. When she spoke, her voice rose above the crowd like a blade slicing through noise.

“At dawn I leave. Anyone who wants to come with me, meet me at the Haven faction hotel at six a.m. See it with your own eyes, the new Safe Zone… and my own Bastion.”

The words rolled over the crowd like a muffled thunderclap. Before anyone could react, she leaned forward and, in a single smooth motion, dashed away into the night, vanishing like a streak of light.

For a heartbeat no one moved. Then voices swelled into a storm of fear, doubt, and excitement. Luke slipped into the confusion, lowering his head and letting the tide of bodies carry him away from the epicenter. Around him, the crowd formed an unintentional wall, shielding Allison’s retreat, while her silence fermented new questions.

The night grew colder as Bastion’s walls receded behind him. He didn’t look back, he didn’t want to brand that fortress into his memory. Every step away was another weight gone from his shoulders. By now, according to the plan, he should already be beyond the Safe Zone, and he wasn’t about to argue with his instincts.

He was starting to taste the thin air of freedom when a familiar voice, laced with irony, cut through the night.

“Excuse me, lovely lady. Want some company?”

Luke let out a sigh that came out more like a tired smile.

“Cute,” he said, turning.

Eleanor stood there, Bastion armor fitting her like a second skin, eyes a blend of reproach and amusement.

“I didn’t say much back there, but did it really have to be here?” she asked, one eyebrow arched.

They were standing outside the old tavern where they had first met. Now nearly silent, it looked like a ghost of its former life.

“I didn’t have time to think of anything better,” Luke said, still wearing the shape of Lucy.

They started walking down the empty street, distant lights flickering as if the city itself was holding its breath.

“And now?” Eleanor asked. “Where do we go?”

Luke cast a quick glance toward the fortress, memories of the night still pounding in his skull.

“You’re about to be officially branded a fugitive,” he said, his tone almost casual. “So you can’t stay another second inside the Safe Zone. Lucky for you, I know a thing or two about being on the run. I can give you some tips.”

Eleanor gave a short laugh. “I’ll take your tips, miss. Though, how do you plan to move fast in those gorgeous heels?”

“I… I’m taking them off soon,” Lucy muttered, embarrassed but keeping her stride steady.

***

Lucy and Eleanor left behind the last stone walls and crumbling ruins of the Safe Zone. The night air of the forest wrapped around them like a living shroud, dense with damp scents and nearly invisible sounds. Luke, still wearing Lucy’s body, had traded the dress for his adventurer’s gear: lightweight fabric, flexible boots, a muted cloak. Every step on dry leaves felt louder than it should, and the moonlight, fractured by the canopy, scattered silver patches across their path.

“Now we just have to cross the forest,” Lucy whispered, eyes sweeping the darkness. “It’s nighttime, and the Midnight Wardens will be active in the Wild Zone city. We need to stay quiet. I don’t want to deal with a swarm of them… they’re like bees. Kill one and the whole hive comes running.”

Eleanor widened her eyes at the casual way Lucy said it. “Kill a Midnight Warden?” she murmured. “You make it sound easy.”

Lucy kept walking a few more paces before answering. “You were in the elite hunting unit. You never tried to take one down?”

“They’ve got those super-armor suits,” Eleanor replied, stepping over a thick root. “Even if we could lure one out, it was forbidden to try. Not just to avoid pointless deaths, but because it draws in more of them. Starting a fight with a Warden isn’t something anyone does for fun. And poisons don’t work. We tried.”

Lucy gave a half-smile, eyes still scanning the tree line. “That’s because they’re undead. Their armor regenerates. Magic barely scratches them, and they’ve probably got more health than anything else out here. But I’ve killed a few. I know a couple tricks.”

Eleanor let out a low whistle, admiration and unease tangled together. The forest seemed to breathe around them, leaves trembling in silence, tiny glimmers of magical insects flashing in and out of sight.

“Just one question,” Eleanor said after a while. “You planning to stay a woman?”

Lucy stopped, breath misting in the cold air. “Look, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Eleanor replied, hands raised in mock innocence.

“Okay, but just to be clear,” Lucy continued, “I’m wearing makeup. Once we’re farther from the Safe Zone and reach the river, I’ll wipe it off. One little magic trick and I’m me again.”

***

The sound of running water ahead told them they were close to the rendezvous point. Their steps through the undergrowth slowed, becoming more deliberate. When they reached the edge of a cliff above the river, the distant glow of the city had vanished behind the trees, replaced by the moon’s reflection rippling downriver. The noise was deep, steady, almost hypnotic. Lucy and Eleanor exchanged a look without speaking, then hurled themselves off the narrow ledge and plunged into the river.

The cold water sliced against their skin like blades. For a few seconds there was only liquid darkness, bubbles, and the muffled roar of the current. They swam hard toward the far shore, bodies trembling, breath coming quick and shallow.

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On the opposite bank, Lucy wiped away the makeup, her features slowly hardening back into Luke’s. His voice dropped an octave, his posture shifting with the change. He exhaled like someone shedding a weight no one else could see.

“I don’t know how you even move in the dark like that,” Eleanor whispered, still rubbing her arms against the cold.

“It’s a skill,” Luke replied in his own voice now. “And you don’t have to whisper. This is a makeshift Safe Zone. At worst we might get a giant crocodile… or a dinosaur.”

They walked side by side, wet ground squelching underfoot, the river’s roar fading into a low echo behind them, replaced by the guttural songs of nocturnal creatures.

“After what your friend Allison did…” Eleanor’s tone wavered. Luke had already told her part of what happened. “I imagine tonight’s going to be rough for Bartholomew.”

Luke stayed silent for a long moment, eyes fixed on the shadows between the trees. “You know the people who lived there,” he said finally. “The ones who actually wanted to return to Earth… what do you think happens now?”

She took her time before answering. “Honestly? I don’t know. They’ll want to see it for themselves, that’s for sure. What happened tonight will spread, not just in Bastion but across every Safe Zone. I bet the news is already flying. People waking each other up just to tell it. If Bartholomew didn’t want the secret of the mechanisms out… I can’t imagine what he’ll do now, or what the people under him will do.”

Their conversation faded into the rhythm of their steps. Minutes later, the forest broke open and the second fortress rose before them, hidden deep in orc territory. Eleanor stopped, eyes widening at the silhouette ahead, surprised by the resemblance.

“It really is… just like Bastion,” she murmured.

“Inside and out,” Luke answered, gaze never leaving the dark walls.

The path ended at the foot of high, black walls. The second fortress loomed above them, eerily identical to Bastion: the same watchtowers, the same grid of inner streets, the same air of power and secrecy. But here the darkness was absolute. No torches burned, no windows glowed. Only shadows, as if the entire place were holding its breath.

Luke and Eleanor crossed beneath the stone arch of the gate. The cobblestones beneath their boots were slick with moss, cold seeping through the soles. A shiver ran through Eleanor, the instinctive chill of stepping into unknown territory despite recognizing every line of the architecture.

A sudden shift in the towers snapped her out of it. Ropes whispered, shadows moved. An arrow thudded into the ground a few feet away, its shaft quivering with residual energy.

“Identify yourselves!” a voice barked from above—steady, but taut with tension.

Shapes peeled themselves from the dark. Weapons clicked, crossbows leveled. Footsteps echoed across the silent courtyard until a small light crystal dropped at Luke’s feet, spilling a muted glow over his face.