Restart:Untalented Man



"Behold!" exclaimed Admiral Stormrider. "Once, this was a humble farming island with little significance. However, our wise king envisioned it as the perfect location to incarcerate individuals, as any attempts to escape would be near impossible. Thus, this formidable prison was built."

The admiral continued to expound upon the history of the prison's construction while Sarika and the other prisoners glanced at their surroundings as they stepped inside the building.

A series of checkpoints immediately greeted them. The interior of the building was vast and imposing, stretching up multiple stories with a network of interconnected pathways that unfolded before them.

The walls were made of rough, grey stone, giving the impression of solidity and strength. Torches lined the walls, casting flickering shadows that danced eerily across the surfaces. The air held a lingering dampness, carrying a faint scent of mildew.

The pathways snaked through the building like a labyrinth, leading the prisoners deeper into the heart of the complex. The ceiling stretched high above them, supported by massive concrete pillars that seemed to reach towards the heavens. Dimly lit lanterns hung from chains, their feeble glow offering just enough light to navigate the intricate maze.

Sarika's footsteps echoed in the empty corridors, their sound swallowed by the vastness of the building. As she looked around, she noticed rows of heavy iron doors lining the walls, each one guarding a separate chamber. The doors were adorned with intricate patterns of forged iron, hinting at the craftsmanship that had gone into their creation.

The atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive as they descended further into the depths of the building. The air became stale and heavy, suffused with a sense of isolation and imprisonment.

Sarika couldn't help but feel a shiver crawl down her spine as she observed the intricate network of pathways, each turn leading them deeper into the labyrinthine structure.

"Aren't we supposed to go up? Why are we heading downward?" Sarika's whisper echoed in the dimly lit corridor, a hint of anxiety in her voice. 

"How the hell should I know," Victor replied with frustration, his brows furrowing. "They don't exactly give us a tour guide to this place."

"I don't like this," Sarika whispered, her voice barely audible. "It feels like we're descending into a place of darkness and despair."

Victor nodded in agreement as his eyes scanning the surroundings with caution.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the group arrived at a heavy iron door. The guard produced a set of keys and unlocked it, revealing another row of cells within it.

"Welcomed to your new home," said the admiral. The prisoners stood frozen, their eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor that stretched before them. "This is a place befitting the prisoners of war of your status." 

Staring at their scared expressions, the admiral continued, "Now, now, perhaps most of you must be wondering why you were led underground instead of to the upper floor. Well, our king decided that the more heinous the crime, the lower and deeper the cells. And for you, dear prisoners, this deepest section has been opened. Furthermore, this place is closer to the torture chamber."

He gestured toward a series of cells, "Feel free to choose whichever cell you want. Note that some of them were already occupied."

The guards prodded them forward with the tips of their guns, urging them to hurriedly make a choice even though every cell is identical to each other.

As Sarika walked past the occupied cells, a wave of despair washed over her. The faces that greeted her were marked by a haunting emptiness as if the light within them had been extinguished long ago.

Their eyes had a hollow gaze that spoke of endless suffering and anguish.

The prisoners bore the physical remnants of their torment, their bodies adorned with countless scars and bruises as if the pain and brutality were etched into their flesh.

The cells themselves were a reflection of the prisoners' neglected state. They were unkempt, with dirt and grime coating the cold stone walls. The air hung heavy with the stench of despair and decay.

"Wait!" Sarika called out, her voice laced with trepidation. "Am I expected to live in close proximity to these men?"

The admiral turned to face her, his expression indifferent. "What's the problem? Each of you has your own cell," he retorted dismissively.

Sarika hesitated, her eyes darting nervously from one cell to another. "But the iron grilles... they aren't fully concealed. People can still see me from outside."

"And?" he replied, his tone dripping with apathy.

"I am a young woman. I deserve some semblance of privacy, some protection from prying eyes."

The admiral's expression hardened, "No, you are a prisoner. You either choose your own cell or I will decide which cell to put you in. Believe me, you wouldn't like it."

Sarika's frustration boiled within her, but she knew arguing further would only worsen her situation. Reluctantly, she gritted her teeth. "Fine! The farthest cell is at the back. That's the one I choose," she declared, her voice laced with defiance.

"Suit yourself," said the admiral, nonchalantly dismissing the situation. It was clear that he couldn't care less.

Arriving at her cell, Sarika found herself standing before the thick iron door, its cold surface reflecting her own apprehensive gaze. She took a deep breath, summoning her inner strength, and entered the confined space that would become her home.

As she stepped into her assigned cell, the iron door clanged shut behind her, sealing her fate within the grim confines of this fortress-like prison.

The cell was small but enough to stretch her limbs, allowing her some room to move within its confines. A narrow cot occupied one corner while another corner of the cell was designated for the necessary bodily functions.

Though it seems to have some sort of piping and sewerage system, it still embarrassing nonetheless. 

Sarika glanced at the iron grilles, their imperfect alignment allowing glimpses into the neighbouring cells. She sighed, realizing that her desire for privacy would remain unfulfilled. 

"F*ck!" Sarika swore under her breath, frustration and desperation mingling in her voice. She couldn't help but cling to a glimmer of hope, yearning for the prince, her father, or anyone who could come and rescue her from this wretched place.

As her emotions threatened to consume her, a voice reached her ears from the neighbouring cell.

"Calm down, young lady," a man's voice offered, its tone tinged with a weary yet empathetic undertone. "You will soon get used to this place."

Sarika turned her attention towards the source of the voice, her eyes searching through the dimness for a glimpse of her unseen companion.

"Get used to this?" she retorted, her voice laced with bitterness. "How can anyone get used to being locked up like a caged animal?"

The man's response came, filled with a resignation born from experience. "When you have no other choice, you learn to adapt. Survival becomes your only focus."

"Who the hell are you, old man!" Sarika blurted out.

The man's response came, laced with a hint of amusement. "How rude, I'm not even fifty yet," he replied with a wry chuckle. "My name is Wagner Fischer, the admiral of Blande's fleet."

Sarika's eyes widened in surprise. The realization that she was speaking to someone of authority. "You're the admiral of Blande?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes, indeed," Admiral Wagner Fischer confirmed, his tone holding a trace of resignation. "But in this prison, I am nothing more than a fellow inmate, stripped of my rank and authority."

"How the hell did you get captured?" Sarika asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

Admiral Fischer sighed heavily, the weight of his past defeat still lingering in his voice. "It was during the fierce battle in the gulf," he began, his eyes distant as he recounted the events. "The day was plagued by heavy rain and thick fog, severely limiting our visibility on the ocean. Our lack of more advanced weapons became a glaring weakness, hindering our ability to fight effectively."

He paused for a moment, "Ryntum show no mercy. They bombarded us relentlessly with the intention to completely destroy us. I was fortunate enough to survive, clinging to life amidst the wreckage. Had it not been for my status as an admiral, I would have likely met my end."

Sigh—

He let out a sigh, "I hope that my friend, Braun would be fine without me."

"I don't know about that," Sarika replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "The last time I heard he was at Napuna. But, when we were sent to this island, we depart from the very same city he encamped himself which was already in Ryntum's control. So, I guess Blande has been defeated. He's either dead or captured."

Admiral Fischer's face fell, his worry etched deeply into his features. "If that's the case, then Braun may actually be captured, considering he is a general of Blande's army. Though I sincerely hope he manages to escape."

Sarika nodded, her brows furrowing with concern.