The sunlight from the entrance was long gone. He briefly recalled the morning darkness he had awoken in. He tightened his grip on the handle of the pickaxe. He patted down his body with his other hand, ensuring the sack was tied securely around his waist. You never know.

The metallic clanks in the air were his only guide. He carefully followed the wall on his right, wary of unseen holes. The coolness of the cave soothed the rope burns on his palm. Occasionally, his hand brushed against a wooden beam, likely supporting the cave’s structure. After slow progress, he finally spotted a light. Just around the corner, the source of the clanking was revealed: two slaves digging for diamonds, with a third holding a torch.

“By the Gods, you scared me!” one said.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get a torch,” he responded.

The three men looked at each other. Then they smiled.

“That’s devious,” one commented.

“Hope the Werewolf tears their head off,” another added.

“Whoresons, the pair of them.”

They were clearly talking about the Adventurers, unfazed by consequences. Is it because they are not coming down here?

Noticing his discomfort, one man spoke.

“They did a number on you, didn’t they? I can tell.” He pointed his index finger on his lips. “Don’t worry, you can express yourself freely down here. In two years, those goblinshits never stepped foot inside the mines.”

He recalled Varyan’s words.

“Don’t let them catch you saying that.”

The men laughed, and he joined in hesitantly. The man in front patted his shoulder.

“You’re alright, Recruit,” he said. “You’re alright.”

His tone turned stern. “But don’t you ever disrespect Lord Blitz again.”

The miner’s large hand gripped his shoulder firmly. He swallowed. “Of course not.”

“Well then…” The man released him. “Who are you with?”

What?

“Which group are you assigned to?” another miner asked. “You’re with us Goblin Hunters?”

Goblin Hunters?

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“I’m with PP and Montgomery,” he answered.

They chuckled again. “They must really hate you!”

PP isn’t particularly popular, is he?

The torchbearer lit another torch and handed it to him. “Follow the mine shaft, take a right at the first fork, and go all the way back. You should hurry. They’re deep in. Five gems, remember?”

He thanked them and continued on his way. The men resumed their work.

“Mind the holes!” one shouted from afar.

He walked for quite some time until he heard pickaxe clinks again. He passed a group of miners who ignored him, so he moved on silently. Eventually, he reached another group of slaves. Despite the cave’s cold depths, the men were shirtless, their rags strewn on the ground. Varyan’s brother sat on them, while Varyan held the torch. The old man from before handed Jacoby a green stone. The men paused their labour, staring at him. The cave fell silent except for the distant clinks from further up the shaft.

image [https://i.imgur.com/fF7YuQE.jpeg]

“It’s alright,” Varyan said at last, “let him through.”

He slowly passed the miners, pausing in front of the white-haired twin. The old man gave a hostile look. Mimicking the servant’s bow he’d seen in the shanty town, he saw the old man relax. The slaves resumed work, the metallic rhythm filling the air again. Varyan nodded slightly, and he continued on his path. Minutes later, he found the fork and took the right shaft. Down here, holes in the ground were abundant, invisible without a torch. One pit seemed bottomless. The light didn’t reach the bottom. I could’ve died down there.

He carefully navigated around the pit. His body was weary from the journey, and he maintained a steady posture to avoid stumbling. He approached a steep decline, sliding a bit. The more he continued forward, the thinner the air grew, causing him to cough uncontrollably. This cave is way too deep! How is anyone able to work down here?

He knelt briefly, taking slow, calming breaths. Once settled, he stood and continued until he heard a voice.

“We didn’t dig caves; we explored them!”

The narrow path lacked support beams, likely a recent excavation. At the edge of his torch’s light, he saw PP and the slave with the long hair who’d given him breakfast.

The man continued, “Besides, when we mined for ore, we didn’t have to use rusty pickaxes.”

PP responded with a grunt, toiling with two pickaxes while the other sat on the ground. So that’s Montgomery?

Montgomery noticed the torchlight. “Hey, put out the damned torch! We barely have enough air to breathe down here.”

He rubbed the torch against the wall, extinguishing it. The men recognised him just in time.

“Hey Recruit, how’s the uprising going?” Montgomery asked sarcastically.

He replied with a question: “Why aren’t you working?”

“Well, I can’t see a damn thing for once, and I don’t have a pickaxe in hand, do I? How could I work in such a narrow space next to the big guy?”

The snark was audible over the clinking pickaxes.

“What should I do then?” he asked.

“Well, you might fit in beside him.”

He attempted to move to where he had seen the large man, but a sharp pain made him wince. He’d stepped on something sharp, yelping in pain.

“Careful now, there are a few gems lying around. PP’s found seven already.” Montgomery’s warning came too late.

Shit, I think I burst a blister.

“Is that why you gave him your breakfast?”

“You’re an observant one.” Montgomery clicked his tongue. “You’ll learn to navigate the rules eventually. But you should really get to work now. Time’s running out for your quota.”

That guy is a piece of trash.

Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. He wasn’t sure what the full picture would be but knew it would be formed here, in the mine’s deepest recesses.

“Eight,” the big man said, tossing something that clinked as it landed.

What? Already?

He squeezed in beside PP and started hitting the wall with the pickaxe.