Kaelen bolted out of the building, greeted by pure chaos. The mine was in shambles, with wyverns swooping down from the sky, tearing through everything in their path. Screams filled the air as the creatures wreaked havoc, destroying buildings and scattering the workers like ants.

Kaelen looked around in shock, the chaos overwhelming his senses. Everything had unraveled so quickly, and now he found himself surrounded by wyverns. Heart racing, he sprinted through the mayhem, dodging the massive, ash-colored beasts as they tore through the mine with savage force.

As he ran, Kaelen caught glimpses of the carnage—slaves and supervisors alike being devoured or crushed beneath collapsing debris. The brutal reality of it all hit him like a hammer, but he pushed forward, determined to survive.

Kaelen had always known the man now known to him as his father was a sadistic bastard, but this went beyond even what he expected. What were his true motivations? This seemed too extreme to be just a test.

He kept running, blocking out the desperate cries for help from those trapped beneath the rubble. He had neither the time nor the reason to help—stopping now would be a death sentence.

As Kaelen neared the outskirts of the town, a familiar voice pierced the chaos, screaming for help. It was Bradwell.

"Get over here and help me, you damn dust devil!" Bradwell shouted, his voice laced with desperation.

Kaelen slowed for a moment, his instincts urging him to ignore the man. He wanted Bradwell to die, and trapped as he was, death would find him soon enough. Kaelen just wouldn't be the one to deliver it.

But before Kaelen could pass by, more slurs and obscenities flew from Bradwell's mouth. Kaelen ignored him, continuing to run—until the man shouted one last time.

"Don't think you can change anything, boy!" Bradwell spat, struggling beneath the rubble. "You'll die a slow, painful death, just like your mother, if you leave me here!"

Kaelen froze for the first time since the attack began. Slowly, he turned back toward Bradwell and walked over to him. The man's face twisted into a malicious smile.

"Seems my commands finally got through your thick skull," Bradwell sneered. "I swear, that slave mark is worthless. Sir Alexander needs to hire a new slave bearer."

Kaelen stopped just before him, extending his hand to reveal the back of it—where the slave mark had vanished.

Bradwell's eyes widened with sudden fear as the reality set in. "W-Wait, Kaelen… we can talk about this. I have money. I'll do anything you want, just spare me!"

Kaelen glanced at the sword his father had left behind. Bradwell's pleas grew more frantic, but Kaelen was unmoved. With a calm expression, he brought the sword's tip down onto Bradwell's throat. The man gurgled on his own blood, dying with a whimper—the only death he deserved. Kaelen was certain no one would mourn him.

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A small smile crossed Kaelen's face as he wiped the blood off his sword. The bastard was finally dead. But there was no time to revel in the moment—he still needed to escape.

Pushing forward, he felt the cold desert sand slipping through the holes in his tattered boots as he sprinted through the night. He knew the real danger wasn't over yet. Powerful predators prowled these sands after dark, and he had to find shelter before he became their next meal.

As Kaelen ran through the desert, a voice called out in the distance. "Kaelen, over here! There are other survivors!"

He looked over to see Eldon standing in front of an overturned carriage. Without hesitation, Kaelen sprinted toward him and followed him beneath the carriage, where several survivors had already gathered.

To his surprise, Eliza was among them, clutching a dagger with a bloodied hand. Her leg was injured, and she sat with a grim expression on her face.

"Ah, Kaelen, you made it out. How lucky," Eliza stammered, her voice strained with pain but still laced with mockery. "Did you happen to see Bradwell?"

Kaelen smirked, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "The bastard's dead. Crushed by rubble, bled out like the dog he was."

Eliza nodded, her expression unreadable, though a flicker of fear crossed her face as her eyes lingered on the greatsword in his hands. She said nothing, clearly hoping Kaelen didn't plan to deal with her the same way.

Kaelen found her irritating, but he had no reason to kill her. Rude as she was, constantly mocking him, she had never caused him any real harm.

Eldon spoke, shivering in the chill of the desert night. "We need to survive until dawn. There are far too many predators out tonight, and those wyverns should be gone by then."

Kaelen noticed Eldon's trembling but felt no cold himself; he never did. He was always comfortable, never too hot or too cold—just perfectly balanced.

The people beneath the carriage noticed Kaelen's lack of reaction to the cold and began making remarks about sandwalkers barely being human. But Kaelen ignored them; he was used to it by now. Slaves rarely held their tongues around one another.

Kaelen watched as the other survivors drifted off to sleep, leaving only Eliza still awake. "So, Kaelen, what do you plan to do from here?"

He turned to the irritating woman and decided to respond. "For now, just survive and maybe find a town. Once I can stand on my own two feet, I'll hunt down that bastard Alexander and shove my sword through his skull."

The woman chuckled lightly before coughing up some blood. "What a vengeful soul! It really doesn't match your pretty face." She laughed at her own remark, but Kaelen's expression twisted in annoyance. He had no idea why she was so insistent on teasing him.

Turning away from her, he replied, "Go to sleep. You'll have a lot to deal with in the morning." With that, he drifted off into slumber.

Kaelen awoke the next morning to the soft sounds of the desert breeze. The other survivors still slept soundly beneath the overturned carriage, oblivious to the dangers that lurked outside. He had no intention of staying with them any longer.

With a quiet determination, Kaelen crawled out from beneath the carriage, the cool morning air brushing against his skin. He surveyed his surroundings, taking in the desolate landscape before him. With only some tattered clothes, worn shoes, and the greatsword hoisted over his shoulder—its weight a comforting reminder of his newfound freedom—he set off. He didn't even have a scabbard for his sword, but that was a concern for later; right now, survival was his priority.

As he walked, Kaelen couldn't help but feel a sense of purpose beginning to stir within him. The memories of his past weighed heavily on him, but with each step, he left behind the remnants of his former life. He glanced back at the carriage one last time, a silent farewell to the shackles of his past. Ahead lay uncertainty, but it was a chance to forge his own path, free from the chains that had bound him for so long.