The Rogue System [BL]
Chapter 305 - The art of escape

Chapter 305: Chapter 305 - The art of escape

The firelight flickered, casting wavering shadows across the camp. Soldiers murmured in low voices, laughter occasionally breaking through the quiet hum of the night. Horses shifted in their tethers, their hooves stamping idly against the damp earth.

Eric sat hunched by the fire, his wrists bound, his shoulders trembling with exhaustion. His body ached from the bruising ride, but that wasn’t what made his chest feel tight. The chains, the hunger, the way no one looked at him as a person—just a captured prince, a thing to be transported and used—it was suffocating.

And Ryan.

He sat a few feet away, sharpening his blade, his expression unreadable. The same hands that had once held Eric in warmth now wielded steel, cold and distant. Eric had spent the entire ride clinging to the hope that something—anything—would break through that indifference.

But the moment Ryan had caught him—caught him effortlessly—that hope had shattered.

Eric dropped his head, silent tears slipping down his cheeks, disappearing into the dirt beneath him. He hated this. He hated himself for breaking like this.

A shadow shifted beside him.

A sheepskin waterbag landed by his knees with a dull thud.

Eric flinched, blinking rapidly, lifting his gaze. Ryan stood above him, the firelight casting sharp edges along his jaw, his expression obscured in darkness. He didn’t speak—just waited.

A lump formed in Eric’s throat. His fingers twitched toward the sheepskin bag, the thought of cool water almost painful in its temptation.

Then, his pride kicked in.

With a sharp inhale, he grabbed the sheepskin waterbag—and hurled it aside.

It landed with a soft thump in the dirt.

Ryan’s jaw tightened. His gaze flickered, something unreadable in his eyes. But he said nothing. Didn’t scold him, didn’t force him. Instead, he simply turned, walking away as if he had expected it.

Eric bit his lip.

Damn him.

Damn him for not reacting, for making this feel like a fight Eric had already lost.

He curled into himself, arms wrapped around his knees, waiting for sleep that never came.

The soldiers worked quick and a few tents were hoisted near the fires. Ryan pulled him up and into his tent making sure to anchor his chains deep into the ground.

Eric watched him with a glare.

"this is just a precaution," Ryan mumbled. But the man removed the shackles on his hands. "sleep. We have a long journey ahead,"

The night stretched on, silent and thick. The warmth of the fire had long since faded, leaving only the damp chill of the river air.

Eric lay curled on the rough ground inside a cramped tent, his body sore, his wrists and ankles aching from the metal restraints. A chain had been hammered into the earth, securing his leg like a tethered animal.

He turned onto his side, shifting restlessly, rubbing his ankle against the opposite foot in an attempt to soothe the dull ache.

And then—he felt it.

The iron ring around his ankle.

It moved.

His breath hitched. He stilled, heart pounding.

Slowly, carefully, he rubbed his foot against the restraint again. The metal shifted slightly, scraping against raw skin, but it was loose.

A spark of adrenaline shot through him.

Eric swallowed hard, suppressing the surge of hope clawing at his chest. He had to be careful. If he made a sound, if he moved too fast, the guards outside would hear.

He braced himself, biting down on his lip so hard he tasted copper, and began working his foot free.

Every movement sent shocks of pain through his ankle as the iron scraped against inflamed skin. He clenched his fists, not daring to make a sound.

After what felt like an eternity—it slipped off.

’yes!!! Fuck I’m leaving!’

This man was not Kai and he had no reason to stay here. If he had to die to leave this world it was better to do it on his own term.

Eric lay still for a moment, listening. Outside, a soldier laughed softly, deep in conversation. Another yawned loudly. No one had noticed.

Moving inch by inch, Eric shifted onto his stomach. His muscles burned, his body sore from the ride and the cold. He pressed his palms into the dirt, crawling forward like a shadow.

The entrance of the tent was just a few feet away. The flap swayed slightly with the wind. Beyond it—freedom.

Careful. Slow. No sound.

He reached out, fingers curling around the fabric. He paused, listening. A log crackled in the dying fire. A boot scuffed against the ground outside. Then—silence.

Now.

Eric moved in a single, fluid motion. He slipped out, rolling onto the ground beside the tent. The cold air hit him like a slap, but he barely noticed. His pulse thundered in his ears.

The soldiers were facing the fire, their backs to him. One sat on a log, lazily sharpening a blade. Another leaned against a crate, head tilted back, eyes barely open.

Eric flattened himself against the ground, barely breathing.

He scanned the camp. The horses were tethered just ahead, their ears twitching as they shifted restlessly. The river lay beyond them. Past that—the trees. If he could just reach them, he might have a chance.

His fingers dug Into the dirt.

Now or never.

Moving with the precision of a hunted animal, he crept forward, using the tents as cover. Every step felt like an eternity. His bare feet barely made a sound, but every crunch of grass, every whisper of movement, made his chest tighten with fear.

A soldier shifted In his sleep.

Eric froze.

The man mumbled something incoherent, rolling over. Then—silence again.

Eric swallowed hard. His hands were shaking.

Just a little more.

He reached the horses. The animals snorted softly, sensing his presence, but they were used to men moving around them at night. He ducked low, using their bodies as cover.

The river shimmered ahead, moonlight rippling across its surface. The forest loomed beyond it, dark and endless.

He had to run.

Taking a deep breath, Eric darted forward. His feet hit the damp earth, his body tense with the effort of staying silent. The riverbank was slick, but he didn’t slow down.

He plunged Into the cold water, swallowing a gasp as it closed around him. The current tugged at his limbs, threatening to sweep him away, but he fought through it, kicking hard.

The other side was so close.

His arms burned as he clawed at the muddy shore, dragging himself up, gasping for breath. The cold clung to his skin, but he didn’t stop.

He stumbled into the trees, heart hammering, breath ragged. The branches lashed at his arms, his legs. The damp scent of earth and pine filled his nose.

Behind him, the camp remained undisturbed.

For now.

Eric kept running.

Branches lashed at his arms, his legs. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, of crushed grass, of pine. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.

Then—

A sound was heard behind him

It was too fast.

The next thing he knew, something slammed into him from behind.

He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs as strong arms pinned him down. He thrashed, but the grip around him was unyielding.

Eric gasped, trying to twist free, but a heavy weight pressed against his back, keeping him trapped.

A voice, low and breathless, rasped against his ear.

"You really thought you could get away?"

Eric froze.

The familiarity of that voice sent a bolt of something sharp and painful through his chest.

Ryan.

His body was taut against Eric’s, the warmth of his breath brushing against the back of his neck. Too close. Too familiar.

Eric’s breath came in ragged bursts. His body trembled—not just from exertion, but from something deeper.

He felt Ryan shift above him, the grip on his wrists tightening before easing just slightly. His voice dropped lower, something strange edging into it.

"I warned you."

Eric clenched his jaw.

His chest heaved. His hands curled into fists against the dirt.

And for the first time in his life, he truly understood what it meant to have no escape.