[: 3rd POV :]

Once Daniel had finished healing them, the change was almost instantaneous.

The children's bodies, once weak and tortured, now appeared whole and full of life.

The color returned to their skin, their breathing steadied, and the trembling that had once gripped them slowly began to fade.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, they were no longer in pain.

They weren't bound by chains, nor were they tortured by the cruel hands of the guards.

Despite their healed bodies, something deeper had been scarred—their souls.

But Daniel's presence, his calm and unshaken aura, seemed to ease their fears, even if only slightly.

Though they didn't fully understand who he was, aside from the name he had told them, there was something in their instincts that told them they were safe.

They trusted him.

One by one, they gathered close to him, some still uncertain, but all instinctively reaching out to him.

Their small hands grasped at his clothes, his arms, as though afraid he might vanish and their nightmare would return.

Daniel smiled softly, his violet eyes warm, and he gently placed a hand on each of their heads, reassuring them with his touch.

His voice was calm, yet it carried a warmth that seemed to resonate within their hearts.

"Are you all alright?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm to their shattered nerves.

The elf child, her eyes wide with disbelief and gratitude, looked up at him and nodded, her voice still shaky, "Y-Yes…" she whispered.

"Is it really over?" the beastkin girl asked.

Her voice was trembling with raw emotion as she clung to his side, like a child afraid to wake from a bad dream.

"It is," Daniel responded softly, kneeling down to meet their gaze.

His voice held the weight of certainty, but also a tenderness that melted through the cold walls they had built around their hearts.

"You're safe now."

"I—I don't want to let go," the demon boy murmured, his tiny hands clutching the fabric of Daniel's armor as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping the world from crumbling again.

"Please... don't leave us."

Daniel's heart tightened, but he forced himself to stay composed, offering them the only thing he could his presence.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured them, his hand gently brushing the hair from the young boy's face.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore."

Daniel stood tall in the dimly lit chamber, his gaze never wavering from the children who had clung to him moments before.

They were healing, yes, but the trauma lingered in their eyes.

He could feel it, the weight of their suffering, and he knew what needed to be done.

His voice was gentle but firm as he pointed toward a narrow, dimly lit path behind him.

"Do you guys see this path ahead?" he asked.

The children, their faces still pale from fear and exhaustion, glanced at the path.

They nodded in unison, though their bodies trembled from the uncertainty of what lay beyond.

They didn't want to leave him, not after everything they had just been through.

But he could see the need for something more—something that would keep them safe while he dealt with the rest of the horrors that awaited.

"I need your help in walking toward the path," Daniel continued, his voice soft, coaxing, like a father trying to ease his children through a storm.

"There's a door at the end. If you exit right through it, you'll find a little girl around your age"

"Stay with her, stay around her, and she'll keep you safe. Do you understand?"

The children exchanged wary glances. They hesitated.

They wanted to stay with him, the one person who had saved them, the one who had given them hope when everything seemed lost.

Their eyes were filled with uncertainty and the fear of abandonment.

"But we don't want to leave you," the elf child murmured, her voice small, almost pleading.

"We're scared... What if something happens to you?"

Daniel's heart ached at the sight, but he knew the only way they could move forward was if they trusted him now.

He knelt down in front of them, making sure to meet each of their eyes—eyes filled with fear, but also the faint glimmer of hope.

"Don't worry," he said, his voice low and steady.

"Nothing will happen to you all. I will let no harm befall any one of you, and I promise that."

His words hung in the air, carrying with them the weight of an unspoken vow.

The children's expressions wavered, and though fear still lingered in their eyes, they could sense the sincerity in his voice.

"W-Will you come back, Mister?" the demon child asked, his voice trembling but filled with desperate hope.

"Of course, I will,"

Daniel replied, his voice unwavering.

He needed them to believe that, needed them to know that he wasn't leaving them behind.

"You have my word."

The children stood in silence for a moment, as if weighing his promise against the darkness that had taken so much from them.

One of them, the smallest demi-human, looked up at Daniel, his eyes wide with fear.

"P-Promise?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Daniel placed a hand on the child's shoulder, his touch firm but gentle.

"I promised," he repeated, his gaze softening. "I will return. You're safe now."

One by one, the children nodded, their faces still filled with uncertainty but now tempered with the smallest glimmer of trust.

They clung to him for a few more moments, as if trying to absorb the last bits of safety before the uncertainty of the world awaited them again.

"Alright... w-we will wait for you," the demi-human girl finally said, her voice shaky but resolute.

Her small hands clutched Daniel's arm one last time before she let go.

"It won't take long, I promise," Daniel reassured them, his voice gentle but filled with the promise of swift action.

He watched them as they hurriedly left the cell, their small feet echoing softly against the cold stone floor.

As they disappeared down the path, Daniel's heart twisted with a mix of emotions.

He didn't want them to see the horrors he was about to unleash on the people responsible for this place.

They had been through enough.

He would handle this on his own.

The children didn't need to witness the massacre that was about to unfold.

His gaze hardened, the remnants of warmth in his eyes fading, replaced with something darker—something colder.

He had a promise to keep.

With a final glance toward the path where the children had vanished, Daniel turned and began walking toward the heart of the building, where the real battle awaited.

The screams of the tortured, the blood on the walls, the agony that had been allowed to fester for too long—it all fueled him now.

This place would burn.

As Daniel continued his grim journey through the facility, the deeper he went, the more horrific the sights became.

Each cell he came across held more suffering, more atrocities, but his response remained the same.

His violet eyes burned with fury and emptiness, a cold resolve overtaking him as he surveyed the horrors.

With a flick of his hand, entire groups of torturers were wiped from existence, their bodies incinerated or eradicated as if they had never been.

His eyes scanned each victim, finding them, healing them, and restoring them to life with the same cold efficiency.

In one cell, a woman, gaunt and broken, looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"W-who... are you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I'm Daniel," he answered, his voice calm yet firm.

"You're safe now. Go outside. There are others waiting."

A gaunt man, barely able to stand, was one of the first to approach Daniel after his healing.

"I... I thought we were dead," the man muttered, his voice raspy, broken.

"I thought we'd never escape this hell."

Daniel's eyes softened, though his face remained stern.

"You're free now. Go. Find shelter outside," he said, his voice gentle but unyielding.

The man nodded, a tear escaping his eye as he limped away, moving toward the exit.

As Daniel turned, a group of children, no older than eight or nine, gathered hesitantly near him.

Their faces were dirty, tear-streaked, but there was something in their eyes—hope.

Daniel crouched down to meet her eye level. "You're safe now," he reassured her.

"But... will we ever see our families again?"

Another child, a boy with messy brown hair and tear-soaked cheeks, asked.

His hands shook as he clutched the edge of Daniel's cloak.

"I'll help you find them," Daniel promised, his voice firm yet kind.

"But right now, the most important thing is getting you out of here"

"Go, find others who are free, and stay with them. No one will hurt you again."

The children, still unsure, hesitated for a moment, but then one by one, they nodded, their faces still shadowed by fear, but beginning to reflect a small spark of trust.

As they left the cell, the girl from earlier turned back to look at Daniel.

"Thank you... mister," she whispered, before running toward the exit with the others.

As more adults came forward, shaking and weak, a man who looked to be in his forties gripped Daniel's arm with trembling hands.

"Are you... are you a god?" he asked in disbelief.

"How could you be real? How could you save us?"

Daniel shook his head.

"I'm not a god. Just a man who's doing what he can. Now, get out of here while you can."

Another woman, younger than the man, approached with a trembling child clinging to her side.

"We… we were just waiting for someone to end our suffering," she admitted softly. "I can't believe it. I can't believe you're real."

Daniel looked down at the child, his violet eyes softening.

"You don't need to suffer anymore. Go. Be with others who are safe. The pain is over now."

The woman nodded, tears running down her face as she pulled her child close and walked toward the exit.

After each encounter, after every grateful word, Daniel's resolve grew even stronger.

He knew that this building was vast, and there were countless more victims left behind in the shadows, but he would not stop.

He would not let this go unpunished.

"Go," he told the next group of freed souls, ushering them down the path to safety.

"And don't look back. You're safe now."

One by one, the prisoners—adults and children alike—were healed and set free.

Some were too weak to move at first, but with a touch from Daniel, they regained their strength, their eyes alight with disbelief and gratitude.

They nodded silently and shuffled toward the exits Daniel had shown them, the path of freedom he had promised.

In the span of an hour, over a hundred lives had been saved.

But Daniel knew this was only the tip of the iceberg.

The building was vast—its depths endless, and each room, each hallway, held countless more.

The cries of the suffering still echoed through the halls.

He had only scratched the surface.