I Died and Received an SSS-Rank Unique Ability-Chapter 99: Escape

Vale, realising who had just entered the courtroom, snapped the mana-suppressing cuffs apart with a single motion. As the shackles shattered, his prisoner robes dissolved into his armour, and a weapon materialised in his hand with a spark of light.

"Need a hand, old friend?" Dain called out with a wide grin. He now wore a set of black steel gauntlets, his once-severed arm fully restored, just as Vale had expected after their return from the second trial.

Ayla’s hair had grown long, now tied neatly at the back. In her hand, she carried a dagger the colour of obsidian, its slender blade shimmering faintly with violet light. The cross-guard curled like twisted thorns, and at its center glowed a blood-red gem, casting a soft, eerie radiance. The weapon’s design was both elegant and lethal, made for swift, silent kills.

Her armour resembled a gothic battle dress, hugging her torso with dark, enchanted fabric reinforced by lightweight metal. The sleeves were sheer, patterned with swirling black markings that clung to her skin like living ink. Her shoulders were bare, framed by a high, flared collar. The lower half of the outfit flowed in layered, shadowy fabric that rippled like smoke with each step.

Klein... looked exactly the same as the last time Vale had seen him. Had they met anywhere else, Vale might have believed it was just yesterday since they last crossed paths.

But there was no time for reunions or warm greetings.

The guards surrounding the courtroom surged forward, weapons drawn, ready to subdue the intruders—and Vale.

Ayla was the first to act. With a single activation of her ability, the air in the courtroom thickened—it was as if gravity itself had shifted. Weaker guards collapsed face-first to the floor, groaning as they struggled against the crushing force. In the crowd, the unawakened followed, gasping as they hit the ground, unable to lift their heads.

Only a handful of guards remained standing, staggering forward through the invisible pressure with strained expressions. But before they could take more than a step or two, Dain moved like a bolt of lightning. His gauntlets tore through the air, each swing brutally efficient. By the time Vale even considered picking a target, every guard was either unconscious or pinned down by Ayla’s ability.

"YOU—You will pay for this!" one of the judges hissed, their face pressed against the wooden desk they had once ruled from.

Vale didn’t even glance at the judges. His eyes had locked onto someone far more important—Sir Tyne.

The knight who had served the man responsible for destroying Vale’s family.

Tyne stood frozen, only his eyes moving. They met Vale’s gaze—no plea, no defiance. Just grim acceptance.

Before he could speak, Vale’s blade, Hellfire, came down in a single, merciless arc. A head hit the floor and rolled, the glow of its final moment extinguished.

Gasps erupted from the crowd. Panic spread like wildfire.

But Vale’s group was already moving, perfectly in sync as if they’d rehearsed this escape a hundred times. They bolted from the courtroom and into the hall beyond.

As they ran, Vale and Ayla exchanged a brief glance—silent but full of understanding—before their momentum came to a sudden halt.

A lone figure stood at the far end of the hallway.

Silver hair. Cold blue eyes. A face carved from still stone.

Emotionless.

Vale’s expression darkened.

"Careful," he warned his companions, his voice low. "This one is... dangerous."

The others shifted instinctively, their footsteps quieter now, weapons raised. The atmosphere grew taut with unspoken tension as the silver-haired woman began walking forward, each step sharp and deliberate, her heeled boots clicking against the marble floor.

"Dismiss your weapons and drop to the ground if you wish to live," she said evenly, her voice devoid of emotion but heavy with promise.

Vale narrowed his eyes. "If you kill us, we’ll just face the Third Trial," he said, voice edged with grim understanding. "That’s why you haven’t killed me yet, isn’t it? You’re buying time. Making preparations. Ensuring someone’s waiting on the other side... in the Demon Realm."

Something flickered across the woman’s expression—a twitch, almost imperceptible—but then it vanished, washed away beneath her stoic mask.

"Very well," she said.

The ground beneath them cracked.

Twelve thorned vines erupted from the floor, each one barbed and writhing—three aimed at every member of the group.

Vale ducked under the first vine, its serrated tip slicing through the air just inches from his head. He swung his blade at the second, but Hellfire merely skidded across its surface, unable to pierce its bark-like hide. Before he could adjust, the third vine whipped across his back, slamming him into the wall with bone-rattling force. Bricks cracked, debris rained down, and his vision spun. But he didn’t stay down.

Gritting his teeth, Vale pushed through the pain and rolled to his feet just as the vines lunged at him again.

His eyes flicked to his companions.

Dain—despite his immense strength and sharp reflexes—was struggling. His broad frame made him an easy target. The vines lashed at him relentlessly, tearing at his armour and drawing blood in sharp streaks. Klein was faring no better. One arm had already been ensnared, and two more vines surged toward him like hungry serpents.

Only Ayla was holding her ground. She moved like a phantom, her body a blur of motion. Every vine that came her way missed by a whisper. Her eyes locked onto the silver-haired woman, and without hesitation, she darted toward her at blistering speed, obsidian dagger gleaming with violet light.

Vale knew they needed to turn the tide.

He summoned his unique ability and activated Voidstep.

Black flames surged around his weapon, but before they could fully bloom, he vanished.

He reappeared beside Klein, his blade trailing a shadowy arc.

Hellfire, now engulfed in dark flames, tore through the first two vines in a single stroke. They collapsed with a heavy thud, writhing on the floor like dying snakes. Vale spun on his heel and cleaved the third vine in half, freeing Klein before it could tighten its grip.

Across the hall, the silver-haired woman’s expression shifted—just barely—a frown creasing her otherwise unreadable face.

Then Ayla reached her.

Their blades clashed, a burst of energy exploding outward. Metal screamed against metal, and the shockwave from Ayla’s strike shattered the floor beneath them, cracks spiderwebbing across the marble as if the hallway itself recoiled from the force.