I grabbed the rusted pickaxe from the pile, its weight surprisingly light in my grip, and swung it through the air to test my form before striking the hard rocks. The tool felt almost like a child's toy, cutting through the air with an ease that seemed tailored to my hands. I had never swung a pickaxe before, so I mimicked Rylak's technique, recalling the steady rhythm of his earlier strikes.
I turned to Rylak, a spark of defiance in my chest, and stated, "Let us have a competition, shall we? Whoever mines the most ore wins the other's meal for today. Rarer ore counts for more toward the total. What do you say?"
Rylak's fiery eyes gleamed with a predatory intensity as he towered over me. "Looks like you are going hungry today, dwarf," he growled, his voice laced with confidence.
The competition started off rough for me, the technique of swinging a pickaxe unfamiliar and awkward at first, my peg leg wobbling with each strike. But my [Heavy Handed] attribute and high strength stat kicked in. I crushed rocks with growing ease, shards flying as I matched Rylak's pace, the hum of the moonshard I sensed earlier vibrating through the tunnel wall.
My pace quickened as I reached the moonshard, its faint glow pulsing through the rock, and once I broke through to the shard, a soft hum reverberated off the tunnel walls, sending a shiver down my spine. Rylak froze mid-swing, his crimson scales tensing under the torchlight.
I raised my pickaxe above my head, ready to extract the shard, my heart pounding with the thrill of the find. But as I brought the tool down, Rylak's voice boomed through the tunnel, "STOP!" Too late, my pickaxe struck the moonshard, the impact jarring my arms as the metal bounced off with a sharp clang. The soft hum from moments ago transformed into a piercing screech, the sound echoing like a dying star, and a crack of silver light split the air, threatening to unravel the very stone around us.
Rylak swiftly pulled a device from his tattered pants pocket, a cylindrical tool with a turn switch gleaming faintly on its side. He rushed to the moonshard, his crimson scales flashing in the torchlight, and placed the device over the shard before twisting the switch. The tool hummed to life, extracting the shard from its rocky lodging, stabilizing its energy as the piercing screech faded back to a soft hum, the silver light dimming to a faint pulse. Rylak turned to me, his fiery eyes wide with worry.
"We have to get back to the barracks, dwarf. It is five tunnels over," Rylak urged, his voice sharp with haste.
I chuckled, uncertainty creeping in as I gripped my pickaxe. "Wait, why? Already eager to hand over my prize?
"Rylak's expression hardened, his scales bristling with tension. "No, dwarf, you do not understand. They are coming, and we have to go now!" he snapped. "FOLLOW ME," he commanded sternly, then sprinted down the tunnel I had originally come from, his heavy steps echoing in the darkness.
I struggled to keep pace with Rylak, my peg leg hindering every step, forcing me to waddle quickly while chasing the fading light of his torch and the dwindling echo of his footsteps. Both grew harder to track as the tunnel twisted, the darkness swallowing his trail. I muttered under my breath, "I should have asked him to carry me like a bride."
Hurrying down the winding paths, I prayed I had chosen the right direction, only to slam into a dead end. I halted, gasping for air, my chest heaving as sweat stung my eyes. My -3 Agility stat offered no mercy, a cruel reminder of my limitations.
As I caught my breath, a low rumble vibrated through the wall at the dead end, the stone trembling under my touch. Suddenly, the cave wall erupted outward, shards of rock scattering across the floor sending me flying across the tunnel. A grotesque creature emerged, its single, glowing eye fixed on me, insect-like limbs clicking with each movement, horned antennae quivering atop its bulbous head. Its silhouette cast a frog-like shadow in the torchlight, the lunar glow of its eye pulsing with an eerie rhythm, as if drawn by my eyes hum.
I could not help but recall the memory of the dog from my past life on Earth, though this creature was far more monstrous, my headspace eerily similar, trapped and desperate.
I pushed myself up with the pickaxe as the creature unleashed a sinister, guttural screech that echoed through the tunnel. My odds were slim. Here I stood, face to face with an eldritch horror, armed only with a rusted pickaxe. I longed to curl into a ball and hope it would pass, but I knew that was futile. A chilling instinct told me it craved my Moonshard Eye, its gaze locked on me with a hunger that ensured it would not leave me be. Every bone in my body trembled, my instincts screaming to flee.
But I had vowed to live for myself in this new life, a promise forged in the void. Anything less than standing and fighting would betray that resolve. I tightened my calloused Dwarven hands around the pickaxe, channeling my [Heavy Handed] strength, and let out a primal roar, "ARGHHRHHRHHH!" With all my might, I drove the pickaxe into the creature's single, bulbous black eye. It staggered back for a brief moment, its liquid mercury-like skin shimmering as it healed, expelling the pickaxe with a metallic clink onto the stone floor.
I cursed under my breath, "Damn it."
The creature lunged at me, its horned antennae slashing forward, and slammed me into the adjacent wall. I crashed against the rock, back first, spitting out a thick stream of blood, the coppery taste flooding my mouth. This was a decent run, I thought, surprised I had lasted this long. Farewell, Nocthys. Farewell, Korgar. Farewell, Elara, Rylak, and even you, old fart Greland. The creature loomed closer, its antennae hovering over my eye, spinning and convulsing as if ready to pluck it out. But before it could strike, a fierce shout rang out from the tunnel's far end.
"You monster! It is my job to kill that dwarf first!" Elara's voice boomed, her figure emerging in the torchlight. She wielded a spear, its tip glowing with molten magma, and hurled it with the strength of a champion athlete, piercing the creature's eye. The magma seared through its flesh, melting the surrounding body as it screeched in agony, a sound that pierced the air like shattering glass.
Elara sprinted to my side, hoisted me onto her shoulders like a sack of grain, and began running down the tunnel. My consciousness faded, my gaze lingering on the writhing creature, its pain evident but fleeting. As we distanced ourselves, I saw its form start to heal once more, the liquid skin knitting together. I tried to speak, but my vision blurred into a familiar lunar haze, pulling me into darkness as I drifted away.