Threshold of Revelation

"This thing is gonna tastes so bad…"

On the cold floor of the cell, Isaak sat with a bowl of mushy, gray texture on his lap that definitely did not look like corn or porridge. The guard had thrown it into his cell with scorn and disgust visible on their face, and now it sat in front of him, uneaten. But since he had nothing else to eat and was hungry, he had no choice but to eat.

"Bleh…" Of course, as expected. It tasted so bad that the young man wanted to vomit immediately after the first bite, but his hunger wouldn't let him. "Taste like shi— ACHOO!"

The young man shivered as a sudden cold wind blew through the cell, causing him to sneeze uncontrollably. He felt water dripping from his hair, soaking into his so-called clothes.

"Argh… So cold…"

It had been two days since he had awakened in this place, and each morning began with the same routine: guards bursting into the room and splashing him with cold water, treating him as if he weren't a human.

Guess that counts as my bath… He thought bitterly, wiping droplets from his face with the back of his hand.

The cell had a terrible smell of sweat and dried blood, which wasn't really surprising since he hadn't had a proper bath. Only cold water alone wouldn't get rid of that terrible smell.

After finishing the terrible breakfast meal, Isaak leaned against the wall, his eyes shifted to the barred window. A gust of cold wind blew through the bars, but it brought no comfort to Isaak. He could hear prisoners walk past in chains, most were mumbling curses, while some were silent.

"Today's workday." He muttered silently.

The prisoners would be forced to work like slaves under the freezing weather while he remained chained in this cramped cell. The reason? The Warden still banned him from all activities to prevent further chaos, though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Meanwhile, Frode had been taken away early that morning, leaving Isaak alone to fight with boredom and his thoughts. 'YOU LUCKY BASTARD—' He recalled Frode yelling before being dragged off for labor. To be honest, it was a pretty funny scene.

Days here passed slowly. Meals were infrequent and rarely edible, interactions with others aside from the old man were briefly, and moments of loneliness stretched like eternity.

"This is the worst…" Isaak sighed deeply. He stood up and walked to the barred window, trying to glance at the outside world just only to see another execution unfold in the yard below.

He flinched as screams pierced the air, a reminder of how his future would be if he didn't do anything to save himself. The gallows, the guns, the blades… which one awaited him? Isaak's heart raced as he thought about it: how long before it was his turn? He didn't feel the same fear as on the first day anymore, yet, the thought of his own death still crept him out.

"How many lives have 'I' ended to received this fate?" He imagined, picturing a noble with blood-stained hands standing in a pool of blood, beside piles of endless corpses.

"What a monster 'I' am…"

Suddenly, a loud noise pulled him back to reality: a giant prisoner was aggressively shouting at the guards who tried to escort him to his execution. It wasn't a rare scene, as they were being pushed to their deaths and they need to do something; however, he knew very well what happened to those who dared to resist.

"How annoying." Isaak then heard a cold voice, a voice he couldn't forget since their first meeting.

He clenched his fists tightly on his knees and forced himself to breathe steadily. He still remembered very well how that man had threatened to kill him with just his fingers, his blades on Isaak's throat. His cold voice and sharp eyes were enough to scare any prisoner, not just him.

"Heh… Am I getting PTSD or something…?" He joked to himself to lighten his mood a bit.

Just then, the yard below Isaak suddenly went silent as the giant prisoner—or what remained of him lay on the ground. His head roll on the ground, next to a saw blade soaked in blood, and in front of it stood the Warden, Dmitriy Morozov himself.

"He clearly in the bad mood—!" All of a sudden, Isaak felt the warden's gaze shift directly to him, making him completely jump away from the barred window to avoid eye contact.

Isaak sank onto the cold floor, feeling the rough stone wall scraping into his skin. He clenched his jaw, forcing his mind to stay calm as panic threatened to rise again. He could still see the giant prisoner's head rolling away from the body as the blood pool spreading across the yard.

"That could be me." The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

He needed a plan. "Think." He whispered, force himself to focus. Days ago, Frode had mentioned the prison's layout during one of their conversations, but now those details seemed foggy. Isaak inhaled deeply, steadying himself before starting to recall.

The old man had talked about Moroznaya Bashnya, the maximum-security prison nestled high in the mountains. It had three floors, each layer fortified with thick walls designed to keep prisoners trapped and crush any escape plans.

'They built it to break you, not just to keep you.' He recalled Frode's words.

Isaak pressed his palm against the rough surface of the floor and then moved it up to the wall beside him. His fingers traced the cracks of the stone, feeling its coldness on his skin. The wall felt solid, surely there were cracks all over the surface, but they were too small for him to exploit. Digging would take too long, he couldn't risk it being discovered before he made any progress.

He recalled Frode's warning about their cell's location on the third floor: 'It's too high for digging. Even if we somehow got rid of the bars on the window, it's still too far down to jump without just breaking ourselves. They've trapped us perfectly!'

His heart slowed down as he considered each boundaries that stood between him and freedom: one foot-thick walls covered him on either side, preventing escape by sheer force alone. Even if he could somehow pry open the rusty bars on the window, which were impossible to do because they clung so tightly to the frame. He would face an even worse fate outside: a ridiculous height and cold winds that could cut through flesh like knives.

And then there were the guards; they were watchful and relentless, patrolled on the wall like hawks waiting for their prey. He feared that if he wasn't cautious enough, he would be shot instantly the moment he attempted to cross the line.

Not to mention the K-9s, the violent guard dogs bred trained to hunt down escaped prisoners. Even though Isaak hadn't seen them yet and only heard about them from the old man, they were still something he needed to consider if he wanted to escape from this hellish place.

Finally, the Warden himself was the main problem. Isaak didn't fully know about his abilities, and he didn't hear anything more from the old man after listening to Disciplines and other stuff that night. Because of this, he had no idea what that man was truly capable of, just simply knowing that he was incredibly dangerous was not enough. Furthermore, he afraid that if he got caught during his attempt, he might face a more horrifying death than the giant prisoner…

This is so hopeless… He thought bitterly, but quickly shook off that thought.

"No, I shouldn't just give up. I must survive."

He forced himself back to reality, examining every inch of his cell for possibilities, no matter how small. There had to be something, some way to get out of this prison.

"Focus." He murmured under his breath.

As he glanced down at the puddle on the floor, he couldn't help but see his own reflection. No, not his, but Isaak Semenov's. That face, that hair, all of it was not his, yet he was that person, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

Every time he looks at it, he can't help but feel a mix of emotions inside him: sorrow, confusion, anger… all of them. Yet, for now, he must remain focused on the main task ahead. Escaping this hellish place, and he will deal with everything else later.

"Everything had its flaws, and I just need to exploit the weakest one..."

Isaak leaned against the cold stone wall as he started to analyze the prison's layout in his head.

Let's see…

He turned to look at the corners of the cell, searching for cracks or any noticeable signs in the walls. And lucky for him, he soon spotted a flaw: despite the prison's ominous structure, it was clearly decomposing and showing its age without proper maintenance. Rust had begun to crept along the bars of the window, another sign of years of neglect. The pipes twisted along the ceiling, with some parts barely hanging on and maybe threatening to drop down at any moment.

The prison's construction overall looked rusty and decayed. Isaak take note inside of his mind. It wasn't much of information, but it was a good starting point.

Next came into the young man's mind is the Warden himself. Isaak knew how much hatred this man had for him through his terrifying cold expression and killing intent hanging in the air. Therefore, he must be extremely careful when dealing with the Warden.

What had I done to provoke such deep hatred? A grim thought crossed his mind.

Maybe Isaak had killed someone close to the Warden, someone important enough to make a man like that turn into a beast. As the young man tried to recall, based on what he had said during their conversation, it might be Isaak's sister. He remembered how the Warden had been triggered a lot when he mentioned her.

Wonder what kind of relantionship they have? He thought.

Putting it aside, the fact that the Warden held such a deep hatred for Isaak was dangerous, but perhaps it could be used against him somehow...

The Warden would be watching for mistakes, even the smallest one. Isaak thought over that possibility as he paced back and forth in his cell. If only he could somehow turn that hatred to his advantage... But how? The chances seemed slim at best, but still, he took note just in case it became necessary in the future.

Then there was the yard, the only time he could get some fresh air and sunlight, and of course… people that wanted to beat him up. But despite all of that, it also seemed to be an opportunity for him. Though he was currently banned from participating in workdays or yard time, Isaak knew those moments could hold a lot of potential for him to exploit.

When I'm allowed to go out again… He imagined himself blending into groups of prisoners while gathering bits of information or maybe… get his ass beaten up by some muscular prisoner again.

God, I hate that Mikhail man for a reason….

If only Frode would return soon... The old man had already been a bit friendlier to him throughout these days, sharing important info about how this prison worked and even details about the Disciplines and other stuff.

"At least I've gained an ally in this hellish place… and that's a good thing…" He muttered, unable to suppress the slight curve of his mouth that began to rise, though he'd never admit it.

Isaak glanced out the barred window again. This time, the daily execution seemed to have ended. The Warden was nowhere to be seen, while the guards hurriedly cleaned up the scene.

Huh…? Why do they look so hurried?

Not only were the guards hurriedly cleaning the messy scene, but Isaak also noticed that he could hear footsteps and guards shouting around his cell from outside. Clearly, something was happening.

Isaak pressed his face against the cold bars, trying to understand what was happening outside. The footsteps and shouts soon faded away as he was able to catch a glimpse of the unfolding event.

Then, he saw it. The tall gates of the prison swung open, reavealing an elegant car driving through the entrance. Its smooth, polished surface gleamed under the sunlight, capturing Isaak's attention. The car had a stylish look, with rounded edges and a long body that give off the luxurious vibe. It rolled smoothly across the cobblestones, drawing the eyes of all the guards toward its presence.

Isaak leaned closer to the bars, feeling his heart race as it approached the main building. He saw the Warden standing at the entrance, adjusting his tie with practiced precision before bowing slightly as the passenger door swung open. His posture was unyielding and authoritative, everything about him radiated with immense power. Yet, he was not the main character of the show.

As a figure stepped out from the shadows of the car, Isaak couldn't help but gulped. A man dressed in a royal gray suit that highlight his status, he wore a blazer woven with luxurious materials that blended blue and black. But what stood out most were his striking features: the silver hair smooth as silk and his green eyes that glimmered with a playful hint.

Who is this person? Isaak thought. And why does he feel so… familiar...?

But before he could even fully see the man that had suddenly appeared, the heavy cell door creaked open behind him.

Three guards suddenly stormed in without warning. They wasted no time, grabbed Isaak by his arms, and dragged him away without saying a word.

Huh? Huh?! What the hell!?

"Ah hell nah, let go of me!" Isaak, who knew exactly what was about to happen again to him, protested weakly. But the guards' grip was too strong for him to even budge if not resisting.

NO NO NO NO NO! This cannot be happening again! I REPEATED! THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING AGAIN!

The guards remained silent but unyielding, their grip tightening around him like iron chains as they dragged him forward into the corridor outside his cell. saak glanced back one last time at his cell, his mind couldn't help but screaming loudly.

WHY THE HELL DO THESE SITUATIONS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?!?