“Bron,” Owen approached and said over the sounds of mining. “How are we getting on?”
“Good,” he replied, hefting his pickaxe over his head, and swinging it as hard as he could against the wall. Rock split, sweat by the beads splashed off of his skin. “Should be done mining the iron in a couple weeks time. Would be quicker, but–” Bron smashed the wall again, refusing to continue his words.
But he didn’t have to say them as Owen already knew. –but I’m all alone.
Owen thought for a moment, listening to Bron transmit his rage into the rock in front of him. Then, like a light bulb going off in his mind, Owen picked up a nearby pickaxe which belonged to one of the Miners named Rick, and stepped beside Bron.
He gave Owen a questioning look.
“I know I can use my Skill,” said Owen, resting the pickaxe against his shoulders. “But where’s the fun in that? How about a little friendly competition? My raw strength against your knowledge. What do you think?”
Bron suddenly laughed and wiped the sweat from his face. “You seem confident, my Lord.”
“Well, if it was before, then I’m not so sure. But now?” Owen flashed a smile and took off his shirt, revealing an iron body made of bundled muscle akin to grouped steel-wire. Bron looked at him in shock. Not long ago, Owen was a scrawny, below average young man. Now he had the muscles a professional soldier could only dream of.
“The power of a Lord truly is remarkable,” Bron said. “You’re on. Don’t believe that because you’re a Lord that I’ll go easy on you.”
Owen wielded his pickaxe at the ready and grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“What are the rules?”
“First to 100 tonnes of Sandsteel wins?”
“Aye, I like the sound of that.”
“Okay, on Go. 3, 2, 1—go!”
The competition erupted in full force. Owen hefted his pickaxe and swung it at the wall with all of his strength and instantly realised that was a mistake. The wall exploded as a result, along with it, the pickaxe he relied on. The Sandsteel behind it was also ruined beyond reparation.
Bron laughed and struck the wall accurately, rapidly chipping away at the will as if he was a human excavator. It was subtle, but each swing of his pick was calculated, each swing aimed at a fault in the wall that was almost impossible to see from the naked eye. As a result, Bron stripped away the ore from the wall without damaging anything. Everything fell out of place; like he was pulling out the correct blocks from a mountain sized jenga. Bron’s eyes were no longer glazed over in fury, but one born out of excitement. Owen had ignited his competitive spirit, and he wasn’t one to lose.
Owen recalculated. If this was to go on, he’d lose on the first day. Pulling back his new-found strength, Owen started chipping away at the wall. But if before he had used too much strength, now he was using too little. He realised now just how out of sync his body and power were.
It took him half of the day to grow accustomed to the power he had gained, and by the end of the day, he had mostly gotten used to his body completely. It was like going from a new-born bambi, struggling to walk on its own legs, to a full sized stag.
Yet as he gazed into the darkness where Bron had disappeared into, it was clear as the desert day that Owen was to lose this battle. Sighing with a smile, Owen headed back. In truth, he didn’t really want to win. He just wanted to help Bron forget about the grief for a while.
If Owen understood anything, it was that clinging to the past was the quickest path to one's own undoing.
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Owen was so engrossed in refining his own muscles and plinking away at rock and ore, that 4 days had passed by in the blink of an eye. During that time, he’d only spend his time mining. Even his lunch breaks consisted of grabbing only a fruit, then eating raw meat in his storage to get back to striking rock. If he wasn’t doing that, he was talking to Pyris and checking up on everyone else for a few minutes a day.
As a result, Owen’s body had undergone a sizable change. His bulging muscles that although appeared awe-inspiring, were quite unwieldy. Because of the intense exercise and the fine utilisation of his muscles, instead of growing, ended up shrinking. Now they suited his frame a lot more. Instead of an exaggerated sculpture of a god, he was now more in tune with the Greek statues carved in history. His body was very slowly catching up to his supernatural reflexes. It still had a long way to go, but it was better than it was.
During that time, Bron had returned back to his usual self. He was a bit more quiet than before, which often meant complete silence, but a spark of life had returned. And as a result of the maddened competition, Owen had completed his quest much faster than he had thought it would take.
Standing in the main mining room which Owen had learned was named the ‘stope’, Owen held his hands behind his back as he took in the result of their hard work. Dusty metal lay by the piles against the back wall, of which Owen had to extend considerably using the power of Unlimited Plunder.
And it wasn’t just the ore they received, either. After mining so much Sandsteel, they had also passively earned 3 more Mining Summoning Tickets. Owen had ripped them the moment he got them and put them to work straight away. Owen placed them on his team as he needed all the help he could get in an attempt to beat Bron.
Now it was time to reap the rewards of their hard work. Bron arrived just in time, a proud and victorious smile adorning his exhausted face. Owen chuckled and turned his attention to the new System notification.
Quest Complete: Harvest 250 tonnes of Sandsteel.
| Reward gained: 1 Summoning Ticket: Blacksmith.
Seeing the golden ticket arrive in Owen’s hand, Bron said, “So this is the reward for our competition? Of which I won, by the way.”
Owen laughed. “It is.”
“So, what do I get?”
Owen looked at the lead Miner and tilted his head with a playful smile. “Get? Did we agree on a reward?”
“You–”
Owen laughed and grasped Bron’s sweaty shoulder. “I’m joking. What do you want? If it’s something I can get my hands on, I’ll get it done.”
Bron looked at the ticket for a second longer. “How about you get the new blacksmith to make me a new pickaxe?”
Owen nodded. “No matter how precious the next metal is we find, it will go to getting you a new pickaxe.”
“Now that sounds like a deal.” Bron finally collapsed on a stack of Sandsteel.
The other Miners followed suit, all of them sitting down. Pod, one of the Miners, said, “Then I want Leader Bron’s old pickaxe.”
Hadrom, another Miner spoke up while frowning, “Ey, that’s not fair. I was going to ask that.”
“Hadrom, if there’s something my other brothers and sisters would say if they won the race, it’d be ‘if you’re not fast, you’re last.’”
At Pod’s words, everyone erupted in laughter. After a few seconds of recovery, Owen tossed everyone a fresh fruit and water cactus, and then ripped the ticket.
Flashes of light erupted through the large mine until they rested on a 3-Star Emberkin Blacksmith named Cindrelle.
She was a demonic woman that shimmered with obsidian skin, glowing like embers. Her fiery hair flickered between crimson and gold, while a smouldering heart pulsed visibly in her chest, casting a warm glow. Molten amber eyes and flame-tipped horns completed her fierce, demonic presence. She wore a slender metal armour that covered most of her body, apart from her heart that was proudly put on display. Owen couldn’t help but stare at her in shock.
Realising his mistake, he shook his head and offered his hand in greeting. “Welcome, Cindrelle, to my home. It’s not much, well, at least not yet. Later, please find Balthus. He’ll fill you in on the situation. It saves me having to explain everything in detail all the time.” He laughed awkwardly.
Cindrelle brought her hand, which was lined with fiery veins, forwards. She was about to grasp Owen’s hand when suddenly she pulled back. She lowered her hand and balled it into a fist.
“I can’t, my Lord. My blood runs hot.”
Owen paused for a moment before he reached out his hand and gently placed it into his own. She panicked and instinctively pulled back, but how could she stop a Lord with an Emblem in overwhelming strength?
With a smile, Owen shook her hand for longer than usual and felt the heat sizzle his hand. Because of his high Vitality, he resisted, but it was still extremely hot. Not to mention painful. But he ignored that, and didn’t let an ounce of pain show on his face. After a long handshake, he finally let her hand go. She stared at him in shock and confusion. Evidently, she wasn’t used to physical touch.
“Not hot enough to harm me, it seems,” he said with a kind smile. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, Cindrelle.”