The silence that followed the last goblin's death was broken only by the ragged breathing of the three men in the cage. Lucian's shoulders heaved, from the physical strain. He approached the bars, the smell of old iron and sweat hitting him.
A miner's eyes, wide with terror and relief, followed his movements. Lucian's hand closed around the heavy wooden latch of the grate. It gave with a stubborn creak, swinging open to reveal the cramped space. He ignored the men's flinching as he reached in, fingers locating the coarse, dirty gags first. He pulled them free, letting the slobber-damp rags fall to the stone floor.
"Names," he said, his voice flat in the cavern's echo.
The man in the middle, his face streaked with grime and older than the others, swallowed hard. "Aye, milord. Foreman Carl's crew. I'm Tom. That's Jace, and…" He nodded to the man slumped against the back wall, barely propped up by his chains. "…Finn. They took us three nights ago during the shift change."
Three nights?
Lucian's gaze fixed on Finn. The man's breathing was shallow. A deep gash ran across his abdomen, crudely bandaged with strips of what looked like burlap. The bandage was soaked dark red. He was pale, his skin clammy. Without immediate, competent care, and probably even with it, the man wouldn't make it through the mine entrance, let alone the long ride back to the estate.
Annoyance pricked at Lucian's mind, followed quickly by self-reproach. I should've thought this through… He'd barged in, convinced he'd outsmarted the system.
I died.
But it brought me back. Of course it did. I should've seen that coming. It's literally called Rebirth.
But a power like that… in the hands of someone like me?
He swallowed. And here I was, thinking I could just end it again if I wasn't satisfied with this life…
His hand clenched into a fist. At least his first death had been private. If he'd dropped dead in front of Hildebrand, or Aldrich… or worse, the entire estate…
Lucian knelt, fumbling at the knot on Tom's bindings with his short, dirty nails. It took longer than he wanted. He clicked his tongue in irritation, then moved to Jace, working faster this time. Finn's chains came last.
"We're leaving," Lucian said, a little too loud, as the final chain hit the ground with a clatter.
Tom and Jace rushed to Finn's side, trying to haul him up. The moment they did, his legs gave out and he nearly collapsed again.
Tom looked at Lucian, panic written all over his face. "He can't walk, milord. We'll have to carry him."
Lucian stood, his movements ungraceful. He stared at Finn for a second longer than he meant to, then looked away at the wall, then back at the others.
"Just… look at him," Lucian said, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice came out sharp, annoyed, "He's not gonna make it. Not like this. Carrying him's just gonna slow you down and get all of you caught."
Jace froze, mouth hanging open. Tom's face went pale.
"I'm not saying this to be cruel," Lucian went on quickly, words tumbling out. "But he's already dying. You can drag him along until he bleeds out screaming, or you can… you know. End it fast." He hesitated, then added, quieter, "I'm not doing it. He's your friend after-all."
Tom's face crumpled, years of working in darkness folding into something brittle. He looked at Jace, then at Finn, his breath hitching.
"We ain't monsters," Tom rasped, his voice thin. "We get him home. Maybe the healer…"
"Home? Don't be a fool." Lucian's voice cut through the hope. He didn't look at them. His eyes were fixed on the dead goblin at his feet, the iron sword still clenched in its stiffening hand. He'd been staring at it longer than he should have.
He stepped over the body and grabbed the hilt, ripping the blade free with a wet, grinding sound. The sword was chipped, stained, heavy in his grip. He turned and held it out, not toward the two standing men, but toward Finn.
"Here," Lucian said. Almost bored.
Finn's eyes dragged themselves to the steel. He didn't speak. Instead he just stared, understanding creeping in slowly, as tear cut a clean line through the grime on his cheek.
Lucian set the sword on the ground, just within Finn's reach.
"I'm leaving now," Lucian said, already turning away. He didn't need to see their faces. He could feel the horror rolling off them anyway. "The goblins here are dead. That gives you two options."
He took a step toward the tunnel, his shadow stretching across the stone.
"You finish it yourselves. Fast. That's still kinder than what the goblins would do if they came back and found him hiding." Another step. "Or…" He swallowed. "Finn, you do it. You know you're not walking out of here."
Lucian stopped, one hand brushing the cavern wall. He didn't turn around. He couldn't.
"I'd love to give you time for a proper goodbye," he muttered, voice tight. "But time's a fast bitch."
Silence.
"Make your choice."
Tom and Jace hurried after Lucian, their movements clumsy with exhaustion and grief. The third miner, Finn, didn't follow. None of them looked back to see if the blade had found its mark, or if it lay still on the stone.
Lucian's breathing steadied as he led them up the sloping tunnel, his hand brushing the rough walls to guide his steps. The darkness here was stained with the faint gray smear of light filtering from ahead. It felt like climbing a throat.
"Why didn't we take the weapons?" Jace whispered, his voice thin with fear. "The swords… the spears they had. We're defenseless."
Lucian didn't slow. "If there are more of them ahead," he said calmly, like this was something he'd thought through a dozen times, "they won't charge you head-on. They'll wait. Steel in your hands won't do shit against a surprise ambush in the dark." He glanced back over his shoulder, the whites of his eyes catching the gloom. "Besides… if they kill me, I might even gain something from it."
I would be sure if the rebirth skill work the same way twice.
Tom and Jace exchanged a confused look.
"Gain something?" Tom asked, uneasy. "Milord… that's your life."
Lucian ignored him. He kept walking, mind already racing ahead of them. Rebirth was a sick puzzle. If the system refused to let him die, then death wasn't an end. It was a new chance. A violent one. His flesh torn apart, bones reduced to pulp, then stitched back together by something that clearly did not give a damn about comfort.
He'd seen it, briefly… His own body.
And apparently it cost something to be alive again.
He could feel it now, a hollow ache beneath his skin. The revival had burned through him, stripping something fundamental away. Calories, life-force, maybe even a sliver of whatever passed for a soul here. Hopefully not that last one.
Lucian rubbed his stomach, surprised at how loose the flesh felt. His breathing was easier too. Still fat, sure. But not what he had been.
Obese to… less obese. Overweight, maybe.
"It doesn't matter," Lucian said at last, cutting through the damp silence of the mine. "Don't think too hard about it. Thinking leads to questions. Questions lead to problems."
He slowed just enough to glance back at them, lips curling into something that almost looked like a grin.
"And problems," he added lightly, "have a funny habit of making people disappear. So let's all agree we didn't hear anything weird, yeah?"
He turned forward again, voice casual.
"I entered the cave alone, for all that matters people thinks the miners are dead, not make it a truth."