The slave camp was a grim and wretched place. A faint stench of rot and despair hung in the stagnant air, mingling with the acrid scent of burning coal and damp earth. The ground beneath Ai's feet was uneven, littered with shattered rocks and grime that clung to her boots with every step. As she and her maids were dragged through the camp gates, their wrists raw and aching from the binds recently removed, an unsettling quiet fell over the laboring prisoners.
The camp's overseers prowled like predators, their leather whips snapping occasionally to keep the workers in line. The prisoners, gaunt and hollow-eyed, labored under the oppressive glare of overseers and torchlight. Many were shirtless, their sun-scorched skin scarred from repeated lashings. The iron cells they slept in were rusted and cramped, barely more than cages. Yet, the sight of Ai and her maids caused the workers to falter, their hammers and pickaxes slowing as recognition dawned on their faces.
“That crest…” an elderly man rasped, his frail hands trembling as he pointed at Ai’s attire. His voice, though weak, carried across the oppressive silence. “That’s House Ignis! She’s a noble—she can help us!”
The murmurs spread like wildfire through the crowd, rising into a wave of desperate voices.
“Lady Ignis, save us!”
“Help us escape!”
Ai stood motionless for a brief moment, taking in their pleading faces. The weight of their suffering pressed against her chest, but her defiant amber eyes burned with resolve. “I will help you,” she said, her voice steady but low. The words were not shouted—they were a quiet, solemn promise meant only for those close enough to hear.
Her declaration only fueled the workers’ hope. Some of them began moving closer to her, their chains rattling as they shuffled forward. Tears streamed down the face of a woman clutching her malnourished child. “Please,” she begged, reaching out with trembling fingers.
The overseers noticed the gathering crowd and acted swiftly. “Back to work, you filthy worms!” one barked, his voice sharp and venomous. The crack of a whip followed, lashing at the nearest prisoner’s back. The man cried out and stumbled forward, his knees hitting the rocky ground.
A goon shoved Ai forward, forcing her to stumble. “No speeches, princess,” he sneered, before tossing a pickaxe at her feet with a loud clang. Another whip cracked near her maids, narrowly missing them but drawing startled gasps from the prisoners.
The workers recoiled under the violent discipline, their fragile hope extinguished in an instant. The overseers barked orders to the prisoners, herding them back to their tasks like cattle. The sound of pickaxes striking stone resumed, but the energy had drained from the air.
Ai bent to pick up the pickaxe, her hands trembling—not from fear, but from anger. As she straightened, she glanced at her maids. They returned her look with subtle nods, their expressions resolute. Though their weapons and tools had been confiscated, Ai knew that each of them was a master of martial arts, trained in both offense and defense. For now, they would wait, bide their time, and endure.
Her gaze shifted to the elderly man who had first recognized her. He struggled to lift his pickaxe, his frail arms shaking with the effort. Ai’s hands tightened around her own tool as she silently vowed that this place would not break her. She had seen enough suffering.
The time to strike would come soon.
——
During one grueling shift, Ai’s attention was drawn to a frail old man who collapsed under the weight of his pickaxe. He struggled to rise, his trembling arms betraying his exhaustion. A guard, instead of offering aid, strode forward with a cruel smirk, raising a whip high into the air.
“Get up, you worthless worm!” the guard snarled, bringing the whip down with a vicious crack.
Before Ai could think, her anger took over. She dropped her pickaxe and rushed forward, her fist colliding with the guard’s jaw. The force of her punch sent him sprawling to the ground.
The guard’s face twisted in rage as he scrambled to his feet, kicking Ai with enough force to make her stumble. “You’ll regret that!” he hissed, and aimed his whip at her face.
Just as the whip arced toward Ai’s face, a figure stepped between her and the blow. The sharp crack of the whip striking flesh echoed through the cavern, and Ai’s eyes widened in horror as a young man cried out in pain. His back bore the brunt of the attack, but he turned to face her with a pained smile.
The whip cracked once, twice more, each strike landing on the young man’s back with a sickening thud. The goon paused, a smug grin stretching across his face as he surveyed his handiwork. With a final act of disdain, he spat in Ai’s direction. “Get back to work, you worm,” he snarled, his tone dripping with menace. He leaned closer, his sneer widening. “Next time, if you dare to touch me, it will be your last.” Then, with a haughty chuckle, he swaggered off to join his comrades.
Ai immediately moved to the man’s side, her maids following closely. “Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice trembling with anger and concern as she knelt beside him.
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The man winced as he sat up, his movements slow and deliberate. He gave her a lopsided smile, tinged with pain but full of resilience. “Someone had to,” he said simply. “Name’s Leo.”
Ai’s gaze softened as she took his hand to help him stand. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger for me,” she said. “But thank you, Leo.”
Before they could speak further, a shout cut through the air. “Stop talking and get to work!” another goon bellowed, his whip coiled menacingly in his hand. Ai gave Leo a small nod, signaling him to move away as she and her maids dispersed.
——
Later, during the brief meal break, Ai spotted Leo sitting alone, his posture hunched as he clutched his injured back. Without hesitation, she ran toward him, her maids close behind.
“Vienna, tend to his wounds,” Ai instructed as she crouched beside Leo.
Vienna nodded and knelt beside him, her hands glowing faintly as she began to chant a sacred art in a low whisper. The glow intensified, bathing Leo’s injuries in a warm, healing light. Meanwhile, the other maids formed a protective circle around them, keeping watch for any guards who might approach.
Leo glanced at Ai, his expression a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. “You’re not like the others here,” he said quietly. “What’s someone like you doing in this hellhole?”
Ai hesitated, then leaned closer to him. “I’m here searching for the Elysium Ore,” she admitted.
At her words, Leo’s eyes widened slightly. “The Elysium Ore…” he murmured. He glanced around cautiously before leaning in as well. “You’re in the right place. This camp sits on top of the richest vein of the ore. But only Trian, his goons, and a few handpicked slaves ever go into the deeper mines.”
“Why only them?” Ai asked, her brow furrowing.
“Rumor has it the lower mine is like a labyrinth,” Leo explained, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And there’s something down there—something alive. Some say it’s a Titan, trapped in the depths. Whenever slaves are taken inside, they don’t come back. But Trian and his men always return unscathed. The whispers are that the slaves are just bait—lures to distract the Titan while Trian mines the ore.”
Ai’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as a wave of fury and resolve surged through her. “If that’s true,” she said, her voice low but charged with determination, “then I’ll uncover the truth, find the Elysium Ore, and end Trian’s tyranny for good. No one deserves to suffer like this.”
Leo blinked at her, stunned by her fiery declaration. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’re crazy, lady. Taking on Trian? That’s a death wish.”
Ai turned to him, her gaze unwavering. “Maybe,” she admitted, “but if no one stands up to him, nothing will ever change. People like you will keep suffering, and Trian will keep growing more powerful. I can’t let that happen.”
Leo hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “You really are serious about this, huh?” His lips curved into a wry grin. “Alright, crazy lady. I’ll help you. Someone’s gotta keep you alive.”
Ai’s expression softened, but the fire in her eyes didn’t waver. “Thank you, Leo. Together, we’ll put an end to his reign of terror.”
The faint hum of Vienna’s sacred art faded as the glow from her hands dimmed. Leo flexed his shoulders gingerly, a look of relief crossing his face. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice tinged with gratitude.
Vienna gave him a small smile, but the maids quickly urged Ai and Leo to disperse as the guards began patrolling nearby. Ai stole one last glance at Leo before stepping back into the shadows, her mind already formulating the next steps in their perilous plan.
——
As night fell, the oppressive quiet of the slave camp was broken only by the occasional crackle of torchlight and the distant snoring of exhausted prisoners. Ai, sitting silently in her cramped cell, glanced at her maids before gently nudging them awake. “It’s time,” she whispered, her voice steady with resolve.
The eight women gathered in a tight circle, their faces illuminated by the dim, flickering light of a single torch outside the cell. Ai reached into her robes and revealed a small ring, the golden band gleaming faintly. “We move tonight,” she said, her voice barely above a murmur. “Candice, it’s your turn. Use your Sleeping Light Art. Make everyone fall asleep—guards, slaves, all of them.”
Candice nodded, her expression firm. “Understood.”
The maids covered their ears as Candice took a deep breath and clasped her hands together, her fingers interlocking in a sacred gesture. She began to chant, her voice soft yet imbued with a resonant, sacred energy. The air seemed to shimmer, vibrating with the power of her incantation. A faint hum filled the camp, spreading outward like ripples in water.
"By the will of the Eternal Flame,
Let shadows fall and silence claim,
A lullaby to pierce the night,
Guide their minds to dreams' delight."
One by one, the surrounding slaves and guards began to falter. Their movements grew sluggish, their heads nodding as sleep overtook them. Even the most stubborn of the guards succumbed, their bodies collapsing into deep, unnatural slumber.
Two of the goons, stationed closest to the cells, noticed the strange sound emanating from Candice’s chanting. They staggered toward her cell, shouting incoherently. “Hey! Stop that—” one barked, but his voice slurred mid-sentence. The other guard fumbled for his weapon, his knees buckling as the chant washed over him. Within moments, both slumped to the ground, their snores joining the chorus.
Ai let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and slipped the ring onto her finger. Closing her eyes, she focused on its dormant power, channeling her will into the artifact. The air thickened, and from the ground around the cell, shapes began to rise—golems, their stony forms hulking and silent.
The largest of the golems stepped forward, gripping the rusted bars of the cell with its massive hands. With a low groan, it wrenched the door open, metal bending as though it were no more than paper. Ai gestured sharply, and the golems moved with precision toward Leo’s cell.
Inside, Leo lay slumped against the wall, snoring softly. The golems carefully removed the bars of his cell, their heavy hands surprisingly gentle. As one reached in to lift him, Leo stirred awake, his eyes snapping open in panic as he felt himself being moved.
Before he could shout, Ai pressed a hand over his mouth and whispered, “It’s me. Stay quiet.”
Recognition flickered in his eyes, and he nodded, his breathing slowing as he calmed. The golems set him down carefully outside the cell.
Ai and her maids, with Leo in tow, slipped through the camp under the cover of the enchantment. The sleeping forms of guards and slaves sprawled across the ground, oblivious to their escape. Moving quickly yet quietly, they reached the edge of the camp and made for the mining cave.
The group paused briefly at the entrance, catching their breath. The cavern yawned before them, dark and foreboding, but Ai’s resolve didn’t waver. She exchanged a glance with Leo, who nodded silently, and together they stepped into the shadows of the mine, leaving the sleeping camp behind.
——