Leo's wild grin and triumphant declaration hung in the air, met with utter, bewildered silence. He looked at the faces of his tenants, a small community now paralyzed by a siege of patient waiting, and saw not a flicker of understanding. They just saw a man who had possibly, finally, cracked under the pressure.
"Move the property?" Lyra asked cautiously, taking a half-step towards him as if approaching a spooked horse. "Leo, what are you talking about?"
"He's talking about a plan," Leo said, his voice ringing with a newfound, almost manic energy. He strode to the central table and unrolled a piece of parchment he'd taken from the library, though he had nothing to write with. It was a prop, a focal point. It was time for a pitch meeting.
"Everyone, please," he said, his tone shifting back to the calm, commanding presence of a top-tier agent about to present a life-changing deal. "Gather around."
Warily, the residents of the Inn—the knight, the thief, the dragon, the blacksmith, and the alchemist—drew near.
"Here is our situation," Leo began, tapping the blank parchment. "Outside, we have an enemy that will not attack. They have us in a cage, and they are waiting for our supplies to run out or, more likely, for our sanity to crack. A passive defense, waiting for them to make a mistake, is a losing strategy. We are on a clock. Do we all agree?"
There were reluctant nods all around. Silas's earlier outburst had made that painfully clear.
"Good," Leo continued. "So, we need a proactive solution. But we cannot fight our way out. Therefore, we must leave our way out. But not through the front door." He looked up, his eyes meeting each of theirs. "We're not going to break their cage. We're going to make it irrelevant. We are going to build a new door."
Borin the dwarf scoffed, stroking his thick, red beard. "A new door? Lad, they've surrounded the whole building! Where would you put a new door that they couldn't see?"
"That's the beauty of it," Leo said, a grin spreading across his face. "It won't open into the Greywood Mists. It will open somewhere else entirely."
Anya's eyes widened behind her spectacles. "You can't be serious! The energy required to punch a stable wormhole, a dimensional egress, to another specific physical location… it's theoretical! The potential for catastrophic failure is over ninety percent! You could open a door into the heart of a star, or the bottom of the ocean!"
"The backlash could tear the Inn apart!" Lyra added, her tactical mind seeing all the risks. "And even if you could control the destination, the energy surge would be immense. The Hunters would detect it instantly. They would attack while the Inn is at its most vulnerable."
Their objections were valid, logical, and based on every known law of magic and warfare. But Leo wasn't playing by their rules anymore.
"Your concerns are noted," Leo said calmly. "And you're right. It is a massive risk." He then turned his gaze to Silas. "Silas. I need a location. A neutral port city, far from here. A place with no significant ties to the Wyvern Hunters' Guild or their benefactors. A place that's crowded, chaotic, and easy to disappear into. Can you give me that?"
Silas was quiet for a long moment, his green eyes studying Leo intently. He saw the logic chains snapping into place, the sheer, beautiful audacity of the plan. To not just escape, but to do so in a way the enemy could never predict. It appealed to the core of his thief's soul.
"Zahar," Silas said finally, a slow, impressed smile spreading across his face. "The Free Port of Zahar. It's on the southern coast, a hive of smugglers, merchants, and spies. No one government controls it. It's perfect chaos. I can give you the exact coordinates of a securely secluded alleyway behind a spice merchant's warehouse."
"Excellent," Leo said. He then turned to face the rest of his tenants. "I know this is insane. I know it's a gamble. But look around this room. Look at what this waiting is doing to us. Sitting here is a guaranteed loss. This plan… this plan is a chance. It's our one, unexpected move. I am asking you to trust me. Not as a wizard or a warrior, but as the manager of this property. Let me do my job."
He looked at Elara, whose golden eyes had been watching him with a quiet, unreadable intensity. The fate of everyone in the room rested on her shoulders. It was her presence that had brought the hunters, her life that was at stake.
She gave a single, elegant nod. "The hunters think in terms of pursuit and combat," she said, her voice a soft melody. "They would never anticipate a strategy of… relocation. I will place my trust in my landlord."
That was the final vote of confidence he needed. One by one, the others nodded their assent, their fear now tempered by a spark of desperate hope.
"Alright," Leo said, his voice firm. "Everyone stand back."
He led them away from the main lobby, down a short, unremarkable service corridor near the kitchen—a part of the Inn no one ever used. He stopped in front of a plain, featureless wooden door, the kind that might lead to a broom closet.
"This one," he said. "This will be our back door."
He closed his eyes and focused, calling up the system menu. He navigated to the [Domain Management] tab, a section he had never dared to touch before. He found the option his conversation with the Guide had revealed. His finger hovered over the confirmation button. The cost was staggering.
[Create Temporary Dimensional Egress - Target Coordinates: Zahar - Cost: 10,000 Value Units]
It would drain almost everything he had gained from the Duke. It was an all-or-nothing bet.
He took one last look at the hopeful, terrified faces of his tenants. His family.
He pressed the button.
[CONFIRMED. DEDUCTING 10,000 VALUE UNITS.]
His Value count plummeted. A deep, soul-shaking groan echoed from the very foundations of the Inn. It was not a sound of damage, but of immense, reality-bending effort.
The plain wooden door in front of them began to glow. Faint blue lines of light etched themselves across its surface, forming a complex, swirling vortex. The air around it grew thin, and the scent of saltwater and exotic spices, the smell of a faraway port city, began to leak into the hallway.
The process had begun. Their escape was in motion.