At the same time, in the Newkama Land, a flamboyant okama animatedly retold the story of how a prisoner who had arrived with him once jumped into the sea.
"It scared me half to death! Those Sea Kings are terrifying! In a place like this, once you're locked in, you're here for life! Breaking out… only someone like the Golden Lion Shiki could do that!"
Ivankov happened to pass by and immediately slammed a fist into the okama, knocking him flat.
"Spreading panic before the battle—do you want to stay here for the rest of your life!?"
The crowd fell silent, not daring to speak further, though Ivankov himself remained deeply worried.
But once the arrow is nocked, it must be released.
From the moment Magellan caught sight of Inazuma, Level 5.5's concealment was already gone.
Inside the room, the pirate Yujin was making his final preparations.
He had obtained a jacket full of small pockets, and inside each pocket was a vial of antidote.
This was the key to whether he could stall Magellan long enough to retrieve the remaining antidote.
To prevent the vials from breaking during intense movement, he even padded each pocket with cotton.
"Inazuma, remember—free the old man first."
"Understood."
Yujin exhaled deeply, his gaze firm.
"Alright then… let's begin."
In the dim, damp prison cell, the old man—thin to the bone—sat quietly in the corner, staring blankly into nothing.
His body was hunched, his skin loose and dull, as though the endless years of imprisonment had drained away every trace of life.
The tattered prison uniform hung loosely from his frail frame, swaying slightly with each faint breath he took.
Suddenly, the ceiling began to tremble violently.
The solid brick structure seemed to lose all support, shaking like quivering jelly.
This eerie sight made a flicker of surprise flash through Redfield's once-empty eyes.
He jerked his head up, staring intently at the trembling ceiling, curiosity rising within him.
But before long, his tightly furrowed brow slowly relaxed.
A faint smile curled at his lips, mysterious and unreadable.
A flash of lightning shaped like a club from a playing card burst out from the sliced-open wall like a ghost slipping through the dark!
Inazuma's gaze swept across the cell, locking onto Redfield without a trace of hesitation.
Her arms instantly transformed into gleaming metal scissors, cold and razor-sharp.
With a blur of movement, she vanished and reappeared before the cell door.
Her arms swung down.
The supposedly unbreakable cell door was cut open effortlessly, a wide gap torn through it.
Redfield watched the scene unfold, the smile in his eyes growing deeper.
He slowly stood up.
Though his body was weak, an unmistakable excitement and anticipation glowed within his gaze.
He reached out, his bony fingers trembling lightly, yearning for the freedom just inches away.
Inazuma didn't pause for even a moment.
She raised her scissor-blades and sliced through the seastone shackles on Redfield's wrists and ankles.
With a soft metallic snap, the shackles broke apart and fell heavily onto the ground.
After finishing everything, Inazuma removed the sword from her waist and handed it to him.
"This is the blade that kid Yujin left for you," she said softly. "Take it."
Redfield looked at the sword, a glimmer of light flickering in his eyes.
He slowly reached out, accepted it, and gently brushed his fingers along the blade.
"A fine sword," he murmured. "Feels a bit like the one Shiryu used."
Redfield read Inazuma's memories, the light in his eyes flashing sharply.
"I understand."
He looked at Inazuma once more.
"Then, let this old bone shine one more time!"
"Red the Aloof, reporting for duty!"
The biting wind cut through the frozen landscape like thousands of sharp knives, howling mercilessly and slicing through every inch of air.
A group of human-demons huddled tightly together.
Their bodies trembled violently in the cold, uncontrollably shivering.
Most of their faces were etched with exhaustion and fear.
Their lips had turned blue and purple, and their teeth chattered uncontrollably.
Every breath they exhaled froze instantly into thick white clouds that hung in the air.
They trudged after Ivankov, each step sinking heavily into the snow beneath them, the crunching of ice underfoot echoing like a mournful drum.
Ahead of them, rows of prison cells loomed dark and sinister.
The outer walls were covered with long, jagged icicles, sharp like fangs, reflecting a cold, eerie glint in the faint light.
Through the blurry layers of ice, the prisoners inside could be vaguely seen—frozen solid into ice sculptures.
Their bodies were twisted into all sorts of shapes, as if time had stopped at the most agonizing moment.
Some prisoners curled into corners with their hands over their heads, futilely resisting the cold.
Others had their mouths open, frozen in silent screams, faces etched with despair and helplessness.
Yet these prisoners were not ordinary.
Their bodies were extraordinarily resilient.
Though frozen into ice, they remained stubbornly alive.
Every day, the prison's heating system would release a faint warmth, slowly melting the ice around them.
But this brief comfort was the cruelest mockery imaginable.
As the ice melted, their bodies regained sensation—only to be met with unbearable pain and torment.
The piercing cold would return swiftly, freezing them once more into ice statues.
Round after round, they suffered in the endless cycle of fire and ice, unable to live, unable to die.
This hellish routine was all too familiar to the human-demons.
Most of them came from the frozen depths, handpicked by Inazuma, and sent to the 5.5th level.
Seeing such a scene again made them shiver violently, dreading the thought of being imprisoned in such a nightmare.
Beside the rows of cells was the guards' room, steam visibly rising from it.
No snow clung to the ground here—just puddles of melted snow.
Through the glass, the guards could be seen playing poker, completely at ease.
The contrast between the prison cells and the guards' room was stark—a few hundred meters felt like the distance between hell and heaven.
Ivankov silently approached this "heaven," then kicked the door open with a single, decisive blow.
The prison guards were stunned by the sudden attack, frozen in place with wide eyes.
They scrambled to stand, their playing cards scattering across the floor, faces full of fear and confusion.
"You… who are you!?" one guard shouted, trembling.
But Ivankov didn't answer. He snorted coldly and moved like a phantom, his hands slicing through the air with deadly arcs of his sharp nails, striking mercilessly at the guards.
"Adah! New Okama Kenpo 44—Beauty Secret Art: Dream Strike Handling Fist!"
Ivankov shouted as he swung his hands. The guards had no time to dodge, watching helplessly as the glinting nails hurtled toward them.
In an instant, screams erupted throughout the cell.
Ivankov's nails rained down on the guards like a storm, their bodies flailing like battered sandbags, thrown this way and that.
Before long, all the guards lay gravely wounded, unable to move.
Ivankov looked down at them coldly, his eyes devoid of any mercy.
He bent down and swiftly pulled the keys from the guards' waists, while his okama subordinates activated the cell's heating system.
With a low humming sound, warm air slowly filled the cell.
The prisoners, frozen into ice sculptures, gradually began to thaw in the gentle warmth.
Their consciousness slowly returned, and they blinked, confused, taking in the unfamiliar yet oddly familiar surroundings. Shock and bewilderment were written across their faces.
At that moment, Ivankov strode to the front of the cell. He raised the keys high and shouted loudly, "Everyone! Join us and embrace the sea!"
"For freedom!"
Tears welled up in the prisoners' eyes as they echoed, "For… freedom."
****
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