A cold breeze whispered across the plains as Kana marched into the hidden camp.

  She hadn’t expected anything like this.

  The camp sprawled across the frozen earth like a parasite—far larger than any bandit operation she’d imagined—its crude wooden buildings outlined by ghost-blue moonlight. Winter winds bit sharply through the seams of her clothes, numbing her fingers. The smell of damp wood, smoke, and too many unwashed bodies clung to the air. Surprisingly, she preferred the weather back in one of the empire cities.

  What amazed Kana was the bandit base… was perfectly concealed.

  Enchanted runes flickered along the perimeter like dying embers—symbols carved into stones and half-buried pillars, glowing faintly beneath layers of frost. They hummed with magic every time the wind scraped across them, a shimmering distortion that made the camp look as if it wavered in and out of existence.

  Kana swallowed hard.

  This wasn’t a ragtag group of highway thieves.

  Someone was behind all of this.

  The largest structure—some hybrid of a longhouse and a fortress—loomed in the center like a crooked titan, its silhouette bristling with watchtowers and burning torches. The river beside it cracked with sheets of ice drifting downstream, the water’s surface reflecting lines of white light. The occasional shout or clang of metal echoed across the camp, mixing with the howling of winter wolves far out in the forest.

  The prison was impossible to miss.

  Mostly because unlike everything else, it wasn’t hidden.

  A crude row of cages sat directly beside the grand structure, openly displayed like livestock pens. Chains rattled in the breeze. Inside, the prisoners shivered violently, their breath fogging in the cold night air—young girls barely older than Kana, a woman in her twenties, a man wrapped in worn-through rags.

  The bars themselves were thick, almost overbuilt—steel reinforced with faint scratch marks. The kind meant to hold desperate people with nothing but raw strength left to rely on.

  The bandit with crooked teeth shoved her forward.

  Her wrists stung as the rope was removed.

  “There you go,” he said with a grin too wide for his face. “New prisonmate.”

  He shoved her inside and slammed the metal door shut. The lock clicked like the closing of fate.

  Kana calmed herself and touched the bars. Cold shot through her fingertips, sharp as needles. The metal didn’t budge, not even with a tentative push. She sensed the metal might not be enchanted, but enough to resist almost anyone's raw strength. Maybe, except for Zia.

  The man in the cage shook his head at her.

  “It’s useless,” he muttered. “You need something heavy. A weapon. Anything.”

  Kana resisted the urge to smile. Her [Inventory] was full of it.

  She sat, pulling her knees close, letting the cold seep into her clothes but not her resolve.

  “I’m Ana,” she lied softly, voice steady despite the winter chill. “Class: [Scout]. How did you all end up here?”

  The woman in her twenties didn’t even open her eyes. “Same as you. Taken as payment. Sometimes travelers can’t afford the toll. Sometimes the bandits just get greedy. Either way… this is where we end up.” Her breath trembled out. “In a week, they’ll ship us downriver. Empire buyers will be waiting.”

  The two teenage girls curled into themselves, sniffling, trembling. Their shoulders shook—not just from the cold, but exhaustion. Kana guessed they hadn’t slept for days. Fear could do that.

  Kana gritted her teeth.

  Anger—not hot, but cold, clean, focusing—settled in her chest.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice quiet but sharp enough to cut. “I’m planning to destroy everything here.”

  The man huffed a tired laugh. “Sure. I’d believe you more if you weren’t sitting here with us.”

  Right.

  She couldn’t blame him.

  Kana scratched her head, exhaled fog, and stood up. Frost glimmered over her boots as she moved.

  In a voice colder than the winter wind, she said,

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  “I’m as strong as the Royal Knights.”

  The prisoners stared up at her—four faces pale in the moonlight, eyes wide. Confusion. Skepticism.

  And a flicker—just a flicker—of hope.

  They aren’t going to believe me.

  Kana looked at the enchanted runes, at the guards, at the darkness-coated camp surrounding them.

  Good.

  Let them underestimate her.

  It would make what was coming next far easier.

  …..

  Kana titled her head.

  For some reason, they believed her.

  Maybe it was the tone of her voice—flat, cold, absolute.

  Maybe it was the way she held herself—balanced, alert, not like a frightened captive.

  Or maybe it was something deeper… the sense that the winter wind bent around her rather than against her.

  Whatever the reason, the other prisoners looked at Kana differently now.

  Not as another doomed soul.

  But as a possibility. As a hope.

  Kana noticed it immediately—and took advantage.

  “How many bandits are here?” she asked, lowering her voice. Frost drifted from her lips as she spoke. “And are we the only prisoners they’ve got left?”

  The man answered first, rubbing his hands together for warmth. The air was so cold that the metal bars had begun to gather a thin layer of hoarfrost along their lower edges.

  “Yes. We’re the newest batch,” he said. “The last group was taken away a few days before we arrived. Sold to the empire.”

  Kana clenched her jaw.

  Sold. Like livestock.

  He continued, “I didn’t count exactly, but there should be around four hundred bandits in total. Fighters and a few who handle food and chores.”

  The woman snorted softly. “Don’t let the word ‘chores’ fool you. Those ones can be worse than the fighters. Cruel types. They enjoy having power over people who can’t fight back.”

  Kana stored every detail.

  Four hundred.

  Non-combatants included.

  A week until the next transport.

  A plan would form. Slowly. Cleanly. Like frost patterns growing across glass.

  “Are you… really planning to get us out of here?”

  It was the first time one of the girls—wrapped in a threadbare cloak, trembling—spoke. Her voice was small but carried a fragile thread of hope.

  Kana nodded once. “Yes.”

  The girl shuffled closer until her breath warmed Kana’s ear. She whispered, “They get drunk every few days. All of them—Sun included. It’s… it’s the only time they get sloppy. If you’re going to do something, that might be the moment.”

  Kana’s eyes sharpened.

  Now that is useful.

  “Thank you,” Kana whispered back. “That helps a lot.”

  The other girl exhaled sharply, disbelief clouding the air. “If you’re really as strong as a Royal Knight… why did you let them capture you in the first place?”

  Kana lifted her shoulders in a tiny shrug. “I’m planning to steal coin from them. They clearly have plenty.”

  Silence.

  Not the cold, heavy silence of despair—but the baffled, wide-eyed silence of four people realizing they might have been thrown into a cage with someone far stranger than a bandit.

  The man blinked at her.

  The woman pinched the bridge of her nose.

  The two girls exchanged a look that bordered on fear.

  For a moment, all four captives silently wondered the same thing:

  Is she worse than the bandits?

  Kana sat back against the frozen metal bars.

  Outside, the winter wind moaned across the camp, carrying the smell of smoke and cheap liquor. The guards were already beginning to gather near the fires—laughing, drinking, unaware of the storm quietly forming inside their own prison.

  Kana waited.

  Watched.

  Listened.

  Her fingers twitched with patience.

  Soon.

  All of them would burn.

  ..

  Kana had kept her eyes closed for three days.

  Not asleep—never asleep.

  Her breathing was slow, following the ancient pattern Zia had taught them.

  A rhythm meant to sharpen the mind, quiet the body, and hide one’s intent. Hide the presence.

  To the bandits who checked on her—soft steps, breath held, trying not to rattle the metal bars—she must have looked harmless. A girl curled in the corner, conserving warmth, shivering in the winter cold like the rest of them.

  But Kana felt them.

  Every step.

  Every shift of weight.

  Every held breath.

  Her [High Awareness] flared like a second heartbeat, painting the camp in layers of sensation: the snoring guards, the flicker of failing torches, the sour smell of alcohol drifting across the frozen night.

  Someone checked on her again—third time in an hour.

  And that was when Kana opened her eyes.

  Two sharp red irises cut through the darkness.

  “It’s time.”

  Her voice was soft but carried a chilling certainty.

  The man in the cage jerked upright. He’d been pretending to sleep—and failing miserably—clearly waiting for this exact moment. He scanned the surroundings with an urgency born from days of fear.

  Kana stood slowly, stretching as if waking from a nap.

  Then she shifted her weight, and a dagger slipped into her hand.

  Smooth. Seamless. Almost as if it had grown out of her leg.

  The woman stared. “How… how did they miss your dagger?”

  Kana tilted her head, a faint smirk touching her lips. “I have my ways.”

  She turned toward the iron bar she had been subtly weakening for the past few minutes—right where frost had gathered thickest.

  Kana breathed in.

  [Dagger Pierce]

  The blade glided through the cold metal with a dry whisper.

  No clang.

  No spark.

  No struggle.

  Just a clean slice—like cutting through damp parchment.

  The four captives froze. Their breath fogged in the cold air. Fear shifted into awe.

  Outside, the camp slept under the weight of drunken revelry. The firepits burned low. Shadows danced lazily between makeshift houses. There were no watchtowers—only runes etched along the perimeter, a false sense of safety making the bandits overconfident.

  A dangerous comfort.

  Kana stepped back, brushing her fingers along the cut bar. “Now,” she whispered, “I want all of you to go down. I will follow you. Hide there.”

  The prisoners hesitated.

  Then, Sherry—the youngest girl, who had barely spoken in days—moved forward. She bowed her head slightly.

  “I’m Sherry. Class [Tailor].”

  A trembling smile. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

  Kana reached out and gently patted her head. “I would’ve doubted too if I were in your situation.”

  Sherry swallowed hard and crawled out.

  The others followed, slipping into the winter night like fleeing shadows.

  The woman—sturdy, observant even under stress—paused halfway through the gap and turned.

  “Wait,” she whispered, “You’re… you’re really serious about stealing their coin? Even now?”

  She understood her. After all, they could easily escape since all of the bandits were drunk.

  The cold wind rustled the loose strands of Kana’s hair.

  Her red eyes gleamed with quiet mischief.

  Kana simply grinned.

  That is the plan.