Jacob wasn't a traitor at all—he had been set up from the beginning.

  The crew member who had let Arata enter the top floor hadn't been negligent or easily fooled. He had been following Alexander's explicit instructions, manipulating Jacob into baiting Arata exactly as their boss had requested. Every step had been orchestrated, every detail planned to ensure Arata would walk directly into their trap while believing he was the one controlling the situation.

  But Arata had planned for this eventuality as well.

  Despite Mika's unpredictable death, despite the circumstances being radically different from what he had originally envisioned, he had known that the worst outcome would be capture. He had also known with absolute certainty that Jacob wouldn't be imprisoned alongside him given his status as Alexander's son. Which meant Jacob would remain free, positioned perfectly to act when the moment came.

  This was the moment.

  Alexander had successfully trapped Arata exactly where he wanted him—isolated, weakened, surrounded by hundreds of barriers in a prison designed to break both body and spirit.

  But he had underestimated both Arata's foresight and Jacob's determination.

  ***

  Jacob stared at the message again, his mind racing through possibilities.

  Death to Alexander, with nowhere left to flee, left with a sword piercing his core, for the right to ascend.

  He had realized something crucial while discovering Thomas and Travis's betrayal—though he still had no idea how Arata had figured out their intentions so quickly. Arata was gifted at reading people, understanding their motivations and capabilities with unsettling accuracy. Which meant Arata had perfectly adapted his plan and cipher to match Jacob's abilities. He could decipher this message. He was certain of it.

  What does Arata need? Jacob thought, approaching the problem methodically. What does he need from me specifically?

  The answer seemed obvious at first—rescue, escape, help getting out of his current situation. But as Jacob considered it more carefully, he realized that wasn't quite right. Arata was trapped, yes, but he was also incredibly resourceful. If he'd managed to get a message out at all, it meant he had some kind of plan already in motion.

  So what would he actually need from Jacob? Information? Resources? Or...

  Location assistance.

  Jacob's eyes lit up as the pieces fell into place. Arata would need Jacob to find him. The message wasn't just a cry for help—it was a set of coordinates designed to guide Jacob directly to his cage.

  He laughed nervously as the solution began to form.

  It's actually simple.

  "Death to Alexander" was the premise—shocking enough to guarantee the message would be relayed to Alexander directly. But it extended beyond that basic function. Even if Jacob hadn't been present during the dinner, such a message would spread between crew members rapidly, because people naturally gravitated toward sharing shocking information. It was basic human behavioral psychology.

  For the next part—"with nowhere left to flee"—Jacob stared at the phrase, his mind working through the possibilities. What did it mean exactly?

  If someone had nowhere to flee...

  He sat back in his chair, turning the words over and over. Nowhere to flee. His eyes traced the letters on the paper as if they might rearrange themselves into something clearer.

  Minutes passed. The phrase felt important, but the meaning remained elusive. Was it literal? Metaphorical? Some kind of reference he wasn't catching?

  Nowhere left to flee.

  Then it struck him. If you had nowhere left to flee, you were trapped. Cornered. Pressed into a corner with no escape routes.

  He's in a corner section!

  Jacob felt a small surge of pride. Even if it was just the first part, he'd actually figured something out. Maybe he wasn't as hopeless at this as he'd thought.

  Jacob was intimately familiar with the Undercroft's construction since he had visited frequently while it was being built. He visualized the layout in his mind—the Undercroft was a large rectangular area divided into six individual square sections, arranged symmetrically as:

  [A][B][C]

  [D][E][F]

  Each section was its own distinct zone with separate guard rotations and monitoring systems. Being cornered would eliminate both middle sections [B] and [E], since corners only existed at the outer edges of the rectangular layout.

  But that still left him with four possibilities: [A], [C], [D], and [F]. Time was running out—Arata was probably in serious danger, and Jacob didn't have time to check all four areas in the gigantic Undercroft. Plus, his chances of getting caught increased the longer he stayed down there.

  He looked at the next part of the message: "left with a sword piercing his core."

  Jacob read it once. Twice. Three times. The words made no sense to him.

  Left with a sword piercing his core.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? A sword? Piercing his core? Was it some kind of metaphor? Was Arata talking about being stabbed?

  He rubbed his forehead, frustration mounting. This wasn't helping. Arata wouldn't waste words on poetic imagery when his life was on the line.

  Jacob stared at the phrase until his eyes started to water. Left. Sword. Piercing. Core. He tried every combination, every possible interpretation he could think of.

  Then, gradually, most of the words seemed to fade from his vision until only two remained sharp and clear: left and core.

  Left and core.

  Something clicked in his memory. Left didn't have to mean direction. It could mean... leaving. Departing. Moving away from something.

  And core meant center.

  Leaving for the center.

  But leaving for the center from where? Jacob's mind raced. Arata didn't have access to much information down there—Jacob knew that better than anyone, having experienced the isolation himself. So what could Arata actually observe that would be reliable enough to base coordinates on?

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Then something shifted. Jacob closed his eyes and opened them again, letting his consciousness seem to fuse with Arata's through memory and imagination. He looked around and found himself inside Arata's cell, seeing through Arata's perspective. No sound, only visions. Infinite cages scattering everywhere and guards resting in the middle sections. He silently observed for a minute.

  Then... eureka!

  Arata's available information was limited. The only data that actually changed and wasn't static was the guards' movement pattern. "Left and core"—that meant they leave for the core. The center!

  Jacob visualized the corners again. He remembered the guards' pattern being clockwise, which meant he could eliminate corners [C] and [D], since the guards would come from the center to those positions, not leave to the center. That left him with two possibilities: [A] and [F].

  But how could he determine which one was correct?

  He thought longer than he had for the other clues. Finally, he gave up, deciding he would have to try both and hope he didn’t get caught if he chose wrong. He didn’t have much time left, and with each passing second, Arata’s chance of surviving diminished.

  He moved to the final part: "for the right to ascend."

  This one was easy—4 the right, 2 ascend. That meant 4 to the right and 2 up, surely from the center point, since it was the only reliable reference inside an area.

  He drew a square on the paper representing the area where Arata was located and split it into four equal sections. Given the position relative to the origin—the center area where guards and crew members rested and operated—4 right and 2 up meant the upper-right quadrant. He drew a cross marking Arata's exact position.

  Now all he needed was to try areas A and F.

  Jacob stood up and ran toward the Undercroft entrance.

  ***

  Meanwhile, back when Arata had first begun planning his message, his mind had been operating in that temporarily boosted state, trace amounts of Aura enhancing his cognitive capabilities despite the enormous risk to his energy reserves. He had made all the necessary calculations with methodical precision.

  From his cage, Arata could see through multiple layers of barriers in all four directions, the translucent golden walls allowing limited visibility despite their opacity. From two of those directions, he could glimpse rocky walls in the distance—the Undercroft's outer boundaries. That confirmed he was positioned at a corner, which significantly simplified the coordinate system he would need to communicate.

  "With nowhere left to flee," he thought, crafting the first part of his message. It was accurate—cornered prisoners literally had nowhere to flee—and cryptic enough to avoid suspicion.

  But simply knowing he was at a corner wasn't sufficient information for Jacob, who could potentially approach from any of the Undercroft's possible entrances. Arata needed to provide coordinates that would work no matter which approach Jacob took, which meant referencing something consistent throughout the facility.

  The guards' movement pattern was the obvious solution.

  Arata had observed them cycling through their rotations with careful attention, tracking the same groups of guards and crew members as they moved between sections. Every hour, a new group would arrive to replace the previous shift. After six complete rotations, the original group returned to his section, confirming that the Undercroft was divided into six distinct zones with guards cycling between them in a predictable pattern.

  From his corner position, he noticed that guards always entered his section from the left side and departed toward the upper direction. But this pattern alone couldn't differentiate between any of the four possible corners—all corner sections would show similar guard flow relative to their position.

  He needed more specific information.

  Looking at the two remaining directions where cages extended into the distance, Arata used his enhanced vision to analyze the opacity differences. As his eyes tried to penetrate through the layered barriers, he noticed that one direction appeared slightly more opaque than the other. This indicated there were more barriers stacked in that direction, or that they were positioned closer relative to where he was. The second possibility was more probable. That meant when he faced the “more opaque” side, he was probably looking at the other corner area.

  But it was only a hypothesis for now. He needed something better to confirm it.

  The crucial observation came from timing the guard rotations more precisely. When the first half of an incoming guard group arrived at his section, one of the crew members would raise his walkie-talkie to confirm their arrival. The departure group from his section consistently took twice as long to reach their next destination compared to the time it took for the incoming group to arrive from their previous position.

  This timing discrepancy confirmed everything. The incoming group was traveling from the adjacent corner section—a shorter distance. The departure group was traveling to a central area—roughly twice the distance.

  Given the ship's dimensions and the rectangular layout of the Undercroft, an efficient architectural organization would place two sections along each of the shorter sides and three along the longer sides. The longer sides naturally allowed greater distances between sections, while the shorter sides were more compact due to limited space. This confirmed that the departure group was moving toward a central area in a clockwise rotation pattern.

  "Left with a sword piercing his core," Arata formulated, satisfied with the metaphor. The guards left his section toward the core—a central area. The "sword" imagery would mask the true meaning while preserving the directional information Jacob needed.

  For his exact position within the section, the calculation was straightforward. He could determine his coordinates relative to the central monitoring area through simple geometric observation, then transmit that information using the numerical cipher embedded in his message.

  Four cages to the right of the center. Two cages up from the center.

  "For the right to ascend."

  Finally, he needed a hook—a vector for propagation that would ensure the message reached Jacob while simultaneously providing one final piece of location data. "Death to Alexander" would guarantee immediate relay up the chain of command, but it also served a more subtle purpose. The word "death" implied the end of a cycle—the final stage of the guard rotation when they were fully dressed, alert, and ready to complete their shift, rather than just beginning it. This timing reference would help Jacob distinguish between the two remaining possible corner locations, since only one would align with guards at the end of their rotation cycle.

  The message was elegant in its simplicity—complex enough to avoid detection by guards who weren't looking for hidden meaning, but straightforward enough for Jacob to decode using information only he would possess about the Undercroft's internal structure and operations.

  Now all that remained was to see whether Jacob's determination was sufficient to reach him before the guards standing outside his cage decided his continued existence was more trouble than it was worth.

  ***

  Jacob descended through the secret elevator hidden within the most protected section of the LeVIATHAN. The transparent glass chamber carried him down through the ship's core, past the main compartments where wealthy passengers slept in luxury, deeper and deeper until he reached the bowels of the vessel.

  As he descended, the view through the elevator's crystal walls revealed the Undercroft in its entirety—a massive, humid chamber that resembled an underground grotto more than any part of a ship. Hundreds of small golden lights scattered across the rocky floor below, arranged in six perfectly symmetrical squares that glowed like constellations against the darkness. The pattern was almost beautiful if you didn't think about the people suffering inside each point of light.

  Jacob had made sure he was ready for this mission. He wore the standard uniform of the Undercroft guards—dark maritime clothing with security patches, a cap pulled low over his face. In a small bag at his side, he carried medical supplies—bandages, antiseptic, painkillers—anything that might help treat Arata after the beating he'd probably endured.

  The elevator chimed softly as it reached the bottom.

  Jacob stepped out into the vast cavern. Even though he'd visited the Undercroft dozens of times over the years, the sheer scale never failed to impress him. The space stretched nearly nine hundred feet in length, the ceiling disappearing into shadows high above, supported by massive stone pillars that looked more like they belonged in some ancient cathedral than aboard a modern ship. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of unwashed bodies, fear, and despair.

  Now he had to make his choice. Section A or Section F.

  He removed his cap and scratched the back of his head nervously.

  Sorry, Arata.

  He decided randomly, turning quickly toward Section F. He knew Arata would hate depending on luck—it was obvious given how meticulously planned everything else had been. But Jacob was out of time and options.

  The journey to the corner section took him nearly ten minutes at a fast walking pace, weaving between the geometric patterns of golden cages. As he moved deeper into the prison, the inmates began to look progressively worse. Near the center, prisoners appeared merely beaten and malnourished. But here, closer to the corners, they looked near death—skeletal figures with hollow eyes and sallow skin stretched tight over protruding bones. Some had been here so long they barely looked human anymore, as if the Undercroft itself was slowly transforming them into something else entirely.

  They all shrank back when they saw Jacob approaching, pressing themselves against the far walls of their cages, thinking he was just another guard coming to deliver punishment. Their fear was palpable, radiating through the golden barriers like a physical presence.

  Jacob continued toward Arata's calculated position. According to the coordinates, his cage should be 4 units right and 2 units up from the section's central monitoring area, using the corner walls as the reference axes of a simple coordinate system.

  He approached the center of Section F discreetly, moving between the cages with practiced stealth. Jacob counted carefully from the center point: one cage to the right, two cages, three cages, four cages. Then up: one cage, two cages.

  He approached the cage nervously, hoping desperately that he'd made the right choice.

  His eyes widened.

  Arata was there.

  But he was motionless on the floor, covered in blood. His eyes were closed. His chest wasn't moving.

  He was dead.