As Cal clings to the ceiling, gripping the vent's edges firmly, he swiftly examines each side with his free hand. Probing cautiously, he inserts his finger into the opening, exploring the four corners of the vent. His touch encounters the presence of screws securing the ventilation panels. An understanding dawns upon him that the vent would require a slim and sturdy tool, such as a screwdriver, to manipulate and open.

"Does anybody have a necklace that could work as a screwdriver?" Cal asked.

"We're all stripped of our possessions," Rowan crossed his arms. "What are you talking about?"

"Disregard what I said," Cal sighed loudly.

     Cal pokes his finger through the vent's linings and twists the first screw on the diagonal-left side, employing the strength of his hardened, elongated nail. Gradually, he senses the screw loosening from its designated hole. Maintaining his grip on the ceiling, Cal unscrews the counterpart on the opposite side, seamlessly transitioning from one task to another.

"Is he using his fingernails to unscrew those screws in the vent?—" Rowan's eyes widened in surprise.

"He's slick," Nelson said.

     Nelson, Rowan, and Joel stood in awe as they watched Cal skillfully unscrew each fastener in the vent, maintaining his grip on the ceiling without faltering. Their mouths were held agape, mirroring the intensity in their wide-eyed gazes. With furrowed brows, they remained engrossed, feeling the tension building within them.

"Last one," Cal smirked.

     Cal swiftly starts unscrewing the final screw on the bottom-right side of the vent. The strain in his left arm becomes apparent, with his nail poised to tear apart. Despite the pain, Cal keeps going, growling defiantly as though challenging gravity.

     Hurried yet muffled footsteps reach Rowan's ears. Raising an intrigued eyebrow, Rowan strains his ear to listen and notices the sound growing louder with each passing moment. His gaze quickly darts to the wooden doorway that serves as the pathway out of their prison chamber.

"Someone's coming," Rowan alerted Cal.

"Cal, get down!" Nelson's voice trembled with anxiety as he urgently told Cal to stop.

     Cal releases his grip on the ceiling vent, descending from a great height. But, as he touches the ground, his landing remains silent, without a heavy stomp. Quickly, he straightens his back and screws his mouth shut.

     The wooden door bursts open, allowing light to beam into the dim chamber. A guard in a striking silver-to-gold uniform cautiously holds onto the doorknob, scanning the surroundings before finally releasing his grasp. Taking a deep breath, the guard crosses his arms and steps forward, venturing further into the chamber. Suddenly, his eyes lock on Cal, and he halts, fixing his attention squarely on him.

"Is everything alright, men?" the guard asked.

Cal remained silent, offering no response.

Rowan and Joel exchanged glances, perplexed. "Huh?" they raised their brows.

"I'll ask again. Is everything in order here, boys?" the guard's irritation was starting to show.

"Yes, everything's fine," Rowan replied.

The guard shifted his stern gaze towards Nelson.

"...All good!" Nelson stepped back from his cell, distancing himself from the iron bars.

Unexpectedly, a young guard burst through the door, breathless. "Sir!" he called out.

"What is it?"

"We require your assistance in the commander's office. There's a fire to be extinguished! An oil lamp spilt!"

"Damn it. It's the third time this month!"

The two guards hastily departed from the chamber, slamming the wooden door shut behind them.

     Once the door slammed shut, Cal swiftly propelled himself back up to the ceiling. Gripping the vent tightly, he deftly inserted his finger into the crevices, diligently untwisting the final screw. Finally, with a nail on the verge of cracking, he unscrewed the last one.

"Dang, this guy got it," Rowan murmured.

     Suspended from the ceiling, Cal swung his body in a pendulum-like motion. With the force of a shark breaching the waves, he channelled his power through his arms, commanding the vent to move. It obediently shifted aside, granting him an eagerly awaited opening.

     Cal's hand seized the opportunity, plunging into the opening. His body morphed into a fluid ascent, limbs deftly navigating the confined space of the ventilation shaft. His torso and legs were about to slip through the vent. But, suddenly, Nelson's deep, sorrowful voice called out for him.

"W-wait, Cal! You're not leaving me here alone, are you?" Nelson called out, his voice trembling with fear and desperation.

Cal poked his head through the venthole. "Huh?"

"Could you help me out here, Cal?" Nelson asked, slightly concerned.

Cal's eyes narrowed, his lips tightening as his gaze hardened. "None of the people here are worthy of my rescue; you've proven yourselves to be utterly worthless."

"But we've been partners for so long!" said Nelson.

"I do not care," Cal coldly retorted.

"Please, Cal. Please! For the sake of everything we've shared! Take us with you," Nelson implored, folding his hands together. "Together, we can be of invaluable assistance to you, we swear! If you help us escape, we'll help you get that Remaining Podeshire!"

Cal let out a deep, weary sigh. "...No."

Nelson's expression turned from hope to shock and disappointment. "But please—"

"No. Unless..." Cal interrupted, his voice taking on a more intense tone. "Unless you submit to me."

Unexpectedly, Joel stepped forward. "Take us with you..." Joel said, bowing before Cal. "Master."

     After a decade of desolation, Cal felt the surge of power coursing through his veins again. His gaze swept across the men confined within the prison chamber, his mind weighing the consequences of his impending decision. As Cal's resolution solidified, a malicious grin crept across his face, spreading like an ominous shadow consuming his features.