The boulder covering the entrance made a cracking sound; soon after, it exploded into pieces. Thankfully, the process was instantaneous, giving Rupert no time to get closer to the boulder. Pieces of stone scattered around the room as Rupert blocked his head with his forearms while standing up straight. Debris hit his forearms, legs, and abdomen, each piece leaving a bulging dent on his body before bouncing off his flesh, leaving behind reddened skin. His body was battered as the debris flew aggressively toward him. Rupert stood his ground and blocked them all with all his might. The pieces were small, palm-sized. He flexed his muscles and endured the pain, adrenaline rushing throughout his entire body, helping him push through.

He lowered his guard and peeked through the gap between his forearms. Light had reached the room—it was blinding. The single entrance let in so much light that it covered the stairs and part of the floor. He was momentarily flashed, his eyes taking time to adjust. After blinking a few times, he made out the shadow of a man cast on the stairs, the outline rippling as dust moved through the air, trying to settle on the ground.

"Get out!"

"Huh?" he murmured.

"Get out now!"

It was the voice of a young man, probably in his 20s. Rupert, confused but at the same time relieved, followed the young man's order without a second thought. He was saved from this grave—what incredible luck!

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He moved from the farthest corner to the entrance, skipping stairs and climbing two at a time.

"How many are down there?"

"Huh?... It's only me."

The man wore a dark blue, slightly gray military uniform—a heavy, double-breasted coat with high collars and straight trousers tucked into knee-high leather boots. A leather belt carried square, small pouches, and a peaked cap with a visor sat atop his head.

Rupert couldn't see his face clearly, as the sun cast a shadow over it, but he could make out the structure of his features. Rupert was surprised—for he had never seen an elf before. The man had pointy ears—not long, but the tip was clearly pointed.

Rupert knew elves lived in the western borders, yet he had never seen one in person.

"Get moving," the elf said, grabbing Rupert's wrist and forcefully guiding both his hands behind his back.

"What are you doing?"

Rupert tried to resist, but the adrenaline had worn off, and the pain he had suppressed surfaced all at once. He had no energy left to move his body. He was on the verge of collapse—his vision blurred and darkened, his sense of smell faded, and all he could hear was static noise.

The elf then cuffed him with metallic cuff.

Under the sunny, blue sky, the air was tight and heavy. Above ground, the atmosphere was moist, filled with hues of brown, yellow, and red. Rupert caught a glimpse of this in the corner of his vision before passing out. There was much he wanted to ask, but the environment he had crawled out of and into was not his highest priority.