Two years prior.

“SO THEN, listen up!”

Came trainer Droom, his voice booming through the cave. The tough red-head was from a mining crew that competed with my father’s, and was teaching us the basics of the art of mining.

“Today you will all learn to handle a pickaxe!” he barked, staring gloomily into our young faces.

After that, the barbed gaze of his black eyes paused on me.

“Except for Eric Bergman, obviously.” His wide toad-like mouth spread into an acrid smile, revealing a row of crooked yellow teeth.

My former classmates all looked at me right on cue and started laughing with glee. A blonde named Mia, the prettiest girl in class, laughed especially hard. Surrounded by a crowd of friends, also cute but not quite as pretty, she looked like a queen.

Mia’s father Hrut, one of the twelve elders of Orchus, was at daggers with my father. Once, he just about broke old Hrut’s face, and it was topic of discussion in the city for quite some time after. It all started when the stuffy elder started raising a stink about a Bugged cripple studying alongside his daughter.

Honestly, the matter even ended up going to trial. Hrut had the support of the other elders, and my classmates’ parents were unanimously behind them. In their words, my deficiency was slowing down the rest of the class. When hunting for example, my mere presence weakens the whole group. I don’t do damage, but still I supposedly lay claim to the spoils. Plus, they said, I am no end of trouble for the trainers, who are constantly making sure the “half-baked whelp” doesn’t accidentally get struck dead by some mob. After all, my life supply is just ten points... One bite from a large garbage rat.

In theory, that was exactly how it worked but, in practice, no one ever shared anything with me. And the trainers didn’t give a damn about my safety. If I survived, good. If I died, it was my own fault.

Gathering resources was also an issue. The tools and resources all had a restriction: minimum level one. And that was the least of my troubles! I couldn’t even eat all mother’s food. Only the dishes with a little zero. The most basic food like bread, butter and honey. Simple fare like meat or porridge, no accoutrements. Seeing the other kids wolf down sweets was a very particular kind of torture...

In the end, the court decided I should be expelled from school. But I was allowed to sit in and observe. Just be present at lessons. The basic idea was: “look, but don’t touch...” And naturally, the trainers would bear no responsibility if I got hurt...

A small pickaxe appeared in Droom’s hands. Father had shown me one like it. Little, for training. Five points of damage.

“I’ll only be explaining this one time!” the trainer barked. “You hold it here, by the handle! Wind up, swing! Hit!”

The steel, shooting dozens of tiny sparks, struck ore. Without particular effort, Droom applied pressure to the handle and popped out his first rock.

“Presto! Everyone get it?!”

A dissonant chorus of children’s voices answered in the affirmative.

“Okay then, let’s see. Who’s gonna be first?!”

A tall strong figure quickly broke off from the cluster of students.

Haakon, son of Ulvar the hunter. Hair black as tar. A supple stature. Soft animalistic movements. The group of girls headed by Mia was watching him, dazed.

They say when he was born, Random granted him a generous fourteen tablets. Exactly the same as my older brother Ivar got once upon a time... And alas I never even met him.

Thanks to the Great System’s generous gift, Haakon was progressing much faster than his peers. A week ago, he left with his father and older brother to hunt at level two. He came back five. My former classmates worshipped him for his strength and agility.

“Master Droom, could you maybe give me a better tool?!” Haakon shouted with defiance.

Chest puffed out, hands on hips. Poser...

Droom croaked back happily.

“I don’t see why not.”

And extended him a more substantial “adult” pickaxe.

“Woah!” marveled Thomas, a bigger kid, also a miner’s son like me. “Level five! Like my dad’s! That thing must be heavy!”

If Haakon was the least bit worried, no one noticed. His handsome face was just beaming with the same self-satisfied smile as ever.

Walking up almost face to face with the trainer, the hunter’s son extended his right hand for the tool. Droom extended the heavy pickaxe with ease, as if it were light as a feather.

“Better use two hands,” he said with a smile.

Despite his self-confident appearance, Haakon took the precaution, for which the teacher rewarded him with a nod of approval.

All that time we were standing in silence, holding our breath and watching Haakon. He grasps the handle with both hands. Nods at the trainer. Droom lets go. I see the veins on Haakon’s forehead bulge. His hands are quivering in strain, but still he keeps hold of the pick.

A heavy swing and the steel tip cuts into ore. It looks like he’s working a little harder than Droom, but it doesn’t matter...

Haakon leverages all his bodyweight onto the handle and, with enormous effort, to the admiring gasps of his classmates, pops out quite a large piece of stone.

“Well done!” the master barked and patted the boy on the shoulder.

A satisfied smile froze on Haakon’s face. His eyes ran over some system notifications only he could see.

“What did you get?”

“What?”

“What is it?”

Questions leapt in, vying with one another.

Haakon raised a hand demandingly.

“Quiet!” shouted Skeggi, Haakon’s best friend. “Read, bro!”

Haakon concentrated on the invisible text and began reading it at his leisure. Was I the only one who noticed how slowly he read? He must have less Mind than even me.

“Attention you have acquired four pounds of ore! Congratulations! You receive...”

Haakon ran a sly meaningful look over all of us and continued:

“Clay tablet of strength!”

Everyone shouted for joy.

“Clay tablet of agility!”

“Yeaaah!” Everyone yelled in concert.

“Clay tablet of endurance! Clay tablet ‘Mining!’ Clay tablet of carrying capacity! Experience essences — five!”

As Haakon read through his loot, I unwittingly imagined myself in his place. What must it be like to be strong and agile? To achieve everything you desire? To catch the prettiest girls staring at you with stars in their eyes?

It took me a second to realize that Haakon had stopped boasting and everyone was staring at me. I looked around, not understanding.

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“Did you see his face?!” shouted Snorri, another of Haakon’s flunkies, pointing a grubby finger at me. “That defective is drooling over Haakon’s loot!”

A wave of loud whinnying boomed through the cave. They all had their fingers trained on me. They were making faces that must have been imitating how they thought I looked.

Unable to bear it any longer, I turned and ran for the exit. Well, so it seemed to me to me. It would be more accurate to say I crawled slowly like a turtle. I mean, a turtle would have honestly been faster. My “epic” run caused another burst of laughter. Snotty Snorri and fat Thomas even cheered.

I don’t remember getting home. I only remember that I wept all night. The anger and humiliation made me want to fall through the earth. But most of all I hated myself for my shameful retreat.

That very day, around morning, before falling into a restless dream, I promised myself that I would never again show my back to an enemy...

Present day.

“Eric Bergman?”

Thin as a decaying tree, the old man stared half-blind at a rumpled sheet of paper. A little bald head, narrow bony shoulders, a hunched stature. Just level nine. I wonder what he did all his life. Another failure like me. Actually, no. I’m the only one like me. At the very least that’s what Dalia told me.

“Yes, that’s me.”

The old man finally tore himself from the paper and looked closely at the words over my head.

“What the...” the old man’s faded teary eyes went round. He even blinked a few times.

“My old lady told me to stop drinking that moonshine,” he rasped out angrily. “Now I’m hallucinating zeroes.”

A mover walking past guffawed.

“What, Burdoc? Finally drink yourself silly?”

“What are you laughing about, loafer? Now I’m gonna have to fork over a wad of cash to some healer.”

“Oh, you’ll learn what it means to force nasty stuff down your throat!” the mover kept laughing.

Burdoc spat in anger and, again frowning, started looking closer at my level.

I decided to take pity on the old man.

“Mr. Burdoc, don’t you worry. You’re not hallucinating. I really am nulled.”

I thought I was reassuring the poor fellow. Little did I know! That only horrified him further.

“How can that be? Oh, Great System!” he lamented, clutching at his head. “What will I ever say to Mr. Bardan?! He’ll flay me alive for bringing him a defective!”

“How is that your problem, old fool?” the lead mover jumped in. “Bardan made a deal with the bank. He bought the peonage certificates. If he didn’t look at who he was buying, that’s his problem. Not yours, old man.”

“That’s true!” the geezer spread his arms happily. “After all, I’m just a cog in the machine. My job is merely to transport the people on this list!”

“Exactly,” Dreher smiled. “And you were about to bury yourself.”

“Thank you, sweet man, you’ve set my soul at ease,” Burdoc quickly bowed to the lead mover and turned to me. “And you, kid, climb up on my cart. We have more peons to pick up.”

It was around evening when we finally arrived. To my surprise, I took the journey well. My head buried in a pile of sweet-smelling hay, I slept the whole way. I opened my eyes only when Burdoc stopped to pick up more peons. It was hard to sleep with all the heart-rending screaming of women and children. A family sending off one of their own into peonage is not a spectacle for the faint of heart.

I had never seen such a thing before, but Burdoc was eager to explain what all was going on. For an old man, he was actually pretty talkative.

“Let’s say a man comes to the bank and takes out a loan,” the old man said. “How does the bank stand to benefit from throwing gold around willy-nilly? Exactly, they don’t. They need to make a profit, that’s why they’re a bank. And so they give the man a little cash to grow. Then that racks up interest. If he’s got the gold to pay them back on schedule, then good. But if he doesn’t, the debt gets bought up by someone like my master. He’s always in need of more people... And when that time comes, they have to work for him until they’ve paid off their whole debt. Ahem, see I still haven’t even gotten to the worst part... It’s good when a family has strong sons. Usually their fathers give them up to peonage, and themselves try to quickly get the money together to buy their boy back. Well, that’s for good fathers... Sometimes, children spend half their lives toiling for their parents’ creditors. Sometimes they even die in peonage...”

The last family we went to had no sons. They had children, but only five girls. The very oldest looked to be about my age. And she was who we were taking. Her name was Jay and, surprisingly, her mother was not crying, though her gloomy face was affixed with a mask of pain and despair. The youngest sisters, wiping away tears and snot, were whimpering pitifully like puppies.

I looked at Jay’s old house, at her mother embracing her eldest daughter with tense arms. I saw her father, a man who looked like he never crawled out of the bottle. I realized it would be a long time before she’d be able to pay off her debt... If that ever came.

Bardan’s home was impressively large. Three stories. Granite walls. All the windows fitted with massive steel grates. Not a home but a fortress. And his fairly sizable property was entirely surrounded by a tall stone fence. At the gates and front door, there were well-armed guards. By all appearances, this Bardan was made of money.

Our cart of quiet peons rolled over to the barracks, which were a distance from the master’s home. There were people waiting for us.

Two men. One subtly reminded me of the bank clerk Sakis. An identical inkwell around his neck, the same mustache, scrutinizing gaze. Gaunt. An unhealthy tinge to his face. A born clerk.

The second was his complete opposite. Tall, broad-shouldered. Hands like excavator shovels. Green eyes burning with energy and power.

Burdoc fitfully lined us up next to the cart and extended a familiar rumpled paper to the “clerk:”

“Here you go, mister steward. Just as the list says, six new peons. Four men, one girl and one boy.”

The steward accepted the paper with disgust, using only two fingers and quickly scanned our names. When he reached me, his eyes went wide.

“What have you brought me?!” he shouted. “Doddering old fool, did you not see who the Bergmans were trying to slip you!!! What will I tell my master now?! Valgard, order this idiot flogged!”

The red-bearded giant, previously standing blankly, took a threatening lurch forward. Burdoc lost all his affinity for speech and collapsed to his knees before the raging steward. But he just flew deeper and deeper into a fit of anger. Valgard loomed over the poor man. His wide palms came down on the bony shoulders of the now weeping geezer.

“Mister steward!” I think even I shuddered at the sound of my own voice. “Permission to speak!”

Bug must have pulled that out of my big stupid mouth! But it was too late to take it back!

An oppressive silence hung over the courtyard. My companions in misfortune stared at me, dumbfounded. Even Burdoc stopped his howling.

The “clerk” squinted predatorily and barked:

“Speak! But keep in mind, if you interrupted me for no reason, you’ll be getting a lashing alongside this muttonhead! Got it?”

“Yes, mister steward. I accept the risk.” It took effort to keep my voice from quavering.

“Continue!”

“Mr. Burdoc is not at fault. As a matter of fact, he carried out your orders dutifully.”

“Then why are you here and not your father, older brother or sister?”

“Well, mister steward, I don’t have a sister and never have. My older brother fell in battle in the Wastes fighting for our Baron, and my father and mother died two days ago in a mine collapse... I am all alone... So you see, Mr. Burdoc had no choice.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught an intrigued glance from Jay. During our trip, I inconspicuously got a good look at her. Much to my surprise, she was level five. Based on her flexible figure and smooth cat-like movements, she had invested heavily in Agility. A lock of fiery red hair stuck out from under her kerchief. Her eyes are like two dark emeralds. The freckles on her slightly upturned little nose and pale cheeks don’t diminish her beauty in the slightest. Quite the opposite...

“Is he speaking the truth?” The steward was still angry but, by his tone of voice, I could tell the storm had passed.

“Yes, sir,” the old man bleated. “I swear it was so!”

Clearly having received a system message confirming the oath, the steward’s rage morphed into sweetness.

“Alright,” he crowed at the old man. “Get everyone a place to stay. Tomorrow I’ll decide what to do with them...”

Burdoc quickly hopped up and led all the peons to the farthest barrack.

I wanted to also turn and go but suddenly heard:

“But you won’t be getting off so easy...”

The barbed gaze of his squinty eyes hooked into me. I forgot how to breathe.

“Master will be outraged. The bank mucked up, and now we’re left to pick up the pieces... After all, you’re utterly worthless. Just think! Level zero! How are you even still alive...? And where are we going to stick you?”

“Ing,” the red-bearded giant unexpectedly spoke up. “Look how dainty he is. Skorx’s scout crew has been asking for someone like him a long time.”

“Have you lost your mind?” the leader replied, distraught. “Send a null like him out to the mine? For what, so he can keel over before the end of his first hour?”

I think I gulped. My heart was just about to jump out of my chest.

“Well, who cares if he does?” Valgard continued. “Then you can file a grievance against Skorx saying he damaged master’s property. You might even come out ahead.”

“Are you out of your mind? His debt is almost a hundred gold! Skorx won’t accept a risk like that. For that kind of dough, he could hire a few dozen boys like this!”

“Who are you talking about?” the big fellow laughed. “Skorx, who would sell his own mother for ten copper? Haha! You’re a funny guy! That miser would never say no to fresh meat if he doesn’t have to pay. And who’s to say the little guy is gonna kick the bucket on day one. He comes from a family of miners. At the end of the day, he’s a Bergman.”

After that, Valgard shot me a happy wink. It made a chill run over my skin.

“Yeah but why does he want small kids?” Ing asked, intrigued.

“Well, to scout out long tunnels. Only tiny bodies can fit into the burrows of the stone worms.”

“I see,” said the steward, stroking his beard in thought.

“Think for yourself,” Valgard applied some pressure, seeing that Ing was about to give in. “Did he put out a request for scrawny kids? He did. Did you send him one? You did. And now it’s up to Skorx to decide. If he sends him into the tunnels, it’s his responsibility. If he sends him back, no big deal. You can set the kid up somewhere in the kitchen before master comes around. They say he’s not coming for two weeks.”

“Yes,” Ing agreed. “He’s busy buying up new gladiators. Marshal Vestar’s supply train just got to the capital. They have lots of prisoners of war, orcs and goblins.”

“All the better. Master will hardly notice some new whelp. And you’ll have a great chance to get back at Skorx. After all, didn’t he send master a grievance against you last month?”

Based on Ing’s angry face, the seeds had hit fertile soil. To my immense pity, Valgard hadn’t only invested in strength. He had a way with words as well.

“And Skorx will also never learn the size of the boy’s debt. The kid will give us an oath not to tell,” said the big fellow, adding his final argument.

After those words, Ing shot a gaze at me. Brr... Cold as ice.

“Well then bigmouth, looks like you’ll be following in the footsteps of your dearly departed daddy.”