Night had already fallen, but none wouldn't know it down here.
Alan took a seat in the dim cavern's far corner.
Bowls in hand, a long line of slaves shuffled toward the stew pots in front of him. Weariness hollowed out their steps, making them slow.
With a dented tin plate in one hand and a hard loaf of bread in the other, Alan sat against the chilly rock.
The stew tasted like mud and watery.
On his plate, someone spilled extra stew. Alan glanced up to see Moriko, her golden eyes glinting in the torchlight, her black cat ears twitching.
With her tail curled against the stone, she sat silently beside him and began to eat.
This was their deal, it's not out of pity, but survival. Alan got extra food to stay strong; Moriko got his protection.
He looked at her, then across the cavern at a group of male slaves. They gazed at Moriko, looking at her body through her thin clothing.
He ate in silence, his face expressionless. Moriko may have ignored it or failed to notice, focusing on her food.
She eventually set down her empty plate and stretched, yawning showing her sharp fangs. "I'm done," she said in a weary, low voice. "I'm going to sleep."
"Already?" Alan's voice was rough from the dust as he asked. He noticed how worn out she was.
"Yes," she sighed, standing slowly and with a fatigued gait. "Too tired today. Worked double shifts." She walked toward the narrow passage to the sleeping quarters, her steps heavy. She almost whispers.
"Hope I see the sun again someday…"
Alan watched her vanish into the dark passage, her figure swallowed by the shadows.
In the narrow passage, Moriko's footsteps echoed softly, her tail swaying as she walked the uneven stone.
She glanced back, seeing three male slaves behind her, grimy, big men. She ignored and kept walking, thinking they were just going to the sleeping quarters too.
The mining routes were empty at night, the overseers too lazy to patrol after dark.
Then she heard boots scuffing faster. Before she could turn, a rough hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her cry.
"Mff-"
Two others grabbed her arms, their grip hard enough to bruise as they pulled her into a side tunnel, a mining route empty at night.
"Keep quiet, beast girl," one growled
"Let me go!" Moriko screamed, her voice muffled by the hand. She thrashed, her hands shifting, nails growing into sharp claws.
"Help! Get off me, you bastards!" She slashed, her claws cutting one man's cheek, blood dripping.
"Fucking bitch!" the scarred man yelled, holding his face. He slapped her hard, sending her crashing to the ground, her head spinning. "You'll pay for that."
Tears burned her eyes as she tried to cover herself, her tail lashing in fear. One man lunged, grabbing her cloth and ripping it apart with a loud tear, revealing her skin bare.
"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be so stubborn," he sneered, pinning her down, his weight crushing her.
She sobbed, "Please… stop… someone help…"
"No one's coming, kitty," one of the other two said, laughing. "Just embrace it."
The air was cut with a sharp clink. With a rusty slave chain around his neck, the man on Moriko froze and choked.
It's Alan.
He spoke softly. "Is your dick really that hard?" He gave a violent jerk, yanking the man away from her as their bodies struck the stone floor.
"We'll see how hard your neck is."
As Alan tightened the chain, his knees slammed down, and the man clawed at it, his face turning purple. Alan twisted, snapping his neck with a loud crack.
The other two slaves froze, eyes wide, then ran down the tunnel, their footsteps fading fast.
"Motherfucking cowards!" Alan shouted, breathing hard, still holding the bloody chain.
He stood and turned to Moriko. She was curled on the ground, crying, her arms wrapped tight to cover her bare chest, her torn tunic in scraps.
"You okay?" Alan asked, his voice rough but direct. He knelt nearby, keeping his distance, checking her for injuries.
Assaults like this happened too often in the mines—pretty girls like Moriko were easy targets. The rules were cruel: victims could die in the attack, and if they lived, no one cared. If a slave got pregnant, Dekel would kill her in a fury.
That's why Moriko made their deal—food for protection.
Moriko's cries softened, but she shook, clutching herself tighter, tears mixing with the dirt on her face. "I… I tried to fight," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I couldn't… I couldn't stop them…"
Alan nodded in the direction of the deceased man's body, not caring about her monologue. "Take his shirt. Wear it."
She tugged the large shirt on with unsteady hands, the rough cloth rubbing against her skin. The dead slave's tunic hung loose on her small body, hiding her bare skin.
With an urgent tone, he said, "Go to the sleeping quarters."
"Now."
"What?" Her golden eyes widened in terror, and her ears twitched.
"Get moving!" Alan's voice reverberated off the rugged stone walls as he yelled. Moriko leaped and staggered to her feet, running toward the sleeping quarters with her bare feet slapping the chilly floor.
Alan looked at the dead slave.
Alan had previously killed someone. He had learned to use violence in order to survive because the mines made you hard. This man was new; he was too brazen, too naive, and believed Moriko was a simple target.
With the rusty chain still dangling from his rough hands, Alan's lips formed a sour grin.
The silence was broken by heavy, uneven footsteps. Alan turned, his grin widening.
With his face flushed and a vein throbbing on his forehead, Dekel Chorev strode into view, his fat man's ruthless eyes darting from the body to Alan.
His voice was filled with hatred as he roared, "You filthy, murdering rat!" "You think you can kill my property and walk away?"
Dekel raised his hand, the magic ring on his finger glowing green. A burning pain shot through Alan's slave collar, like fire in his veins. He gasped, his knees giving out as he fell to the stone floor, his body shaking. His vision blurred, his breath came short.
Dekel stepped closer, his boot smashing into Alan's jaw with a loud crack. Blood sprayed as Alan's head snapped to the side.
"You're worth ten of that scum, and you dare cost me a worker?"
"I'll carve the price out of your hide!"
Another kick hit Alan's ribs, knocking the air from him. He curled up, gasping, as Dekel's boot struck again—his stomach, his back, his face. Blood pooled on the stone, mixing with mine dust.
"You cursed wretch!" Dekel spat, stomping on Alan's hand, grinding the bones.
"Think you're special, do you? I'll break that fire in you, boy. I'll make you beg!" The guards stood back, whips ready, grinning. They knew not to mess with Dekel's anger.
The beating went on, endless—kicks, stomps, and curses for what felt like forever. Dekel's ring flashed again, sending another jolt through the collar, and Alan's body jerked, a weak groan slipping from his bloody lips.
Finally, Dekel stepped back, breathing hard, his silks wet with sweat, his face twisted with disgust. "Chain him to the wall," he snarled to the guards.
"Let him rot there for all night. Maybe then he'll learn his place, you god-damned devil's spawn."
Alan was pulled to the tunnel wall by the guards. They tied him to rusty rings in the stone by using chains around his wrists. His head hung low, blood dripping from his split lip. He didn't cry out or plead. Alan knew how to handle pain, just as he handled hunger and chains.
With a low growl, Dekel spat close to Alan's feet.
"Brat, you're a walking corpse. I'll bury you myself if you keep pushing me."
Guards trailed behind him disappearing into the passageway.
The slow trickle of blood from Alan's nose indicated that time was moving slowly. Every breath pricked his ribs, causing pain throughout his body.
After few hours.
A soft tug on his leg snapped him back. His sore eyes opened, blurry, to see Moriko kneeling beside him, her small hands grabbing his ankle as she tried to drag him to the sleeping quarters.
Alan sighed, his head falling back as he closed his eyes, letting her pull him across the rough stone.
---
After an hour.
Deep in the mines, a lone guard walked the empty tunnels, his mana lamp casting a pale glow that pushed back the dark.
His boots scraped the stone, loud in the silence. He was ready to head back, his shift almost done, when a sharp screech hit his ears, a high, creepy sound that made his skin crawl.
He froze, holding his lamp high, looking around. Nothing. Just the endless black of the tunnel. He smirked, shaking his head. "Fucking rste," he muttered, turning to go.
He paused.
Grrrrrrk
In front of him, a massive, deformed monster towered almost nine feet tall, its slender, pale limbs hunched back like a shattered doll. Its face had no eyes, only jagged cuts in the flesh, as if someone had cut it with a knife.
However, it tilted its head, sniffing the air with a low hiss, as if sensing him. Too many rows of sharp, needle-like teeth were visible when its mouth opened.
The guard's lamp slipped from his hand, smashing on the stone with a flash of light.
"No—no!" He staggered back, screamed, and reached for his sword.
With crushing force, the creature's claw sprang out, snagging him and dragging him to its mouth. With a wet crunch, its jaws slammed shut, tearing through his skull and devouring the remnants.