Turns out mining wasn't safe labour. To put salt in our misery, the crystals we collected were quite volatile—they explode into molten flames under great stress.
They tend to explode in an eruption of fiery bombardment now and then under greater stress during mining. Obviously, the occurrence of the eruption happened was quite slim on the relatively open side of the mine.
However, the deeper you went into the fiery pits, the more volatile the crystals there were. It needed very delicate hands to work with them without setting them off. Even a single picking of pickaxe at the wrong spot could set off a single crystal, which would set off dozens of them in near proximity, causing wreckage no worse than chained dynamite, destroying everything in their way.
The only consolation about this whole thing was that those crystals were worth a lot more than what I was collecting.
Imani gave me one single fist-sized crystal from the deep fiery pit to pay a day's worth of my quota. Evidently, it's worth way more than that.
Supposedly, all these crystals were known as fire crystals, some low in resonance—which I and Cameron were mining, whereas the ones with higher resonance were what Imani and the others were mining.
The higher the resonance, the greater the worth, as well as the chance of erupting into blasted molten flames.
Most slaves never survive such an ordeal. If they were in proximity to the eruption, they would be dead.
However, the person with those horrifying scars wasn't a normal person. I hadn't recognised him at first, but after discussing a little with Imani and Dele, we found out this guy was the guy who beat four guards single-handedly, even when he was strapped with the slave collar.
The A'caen.
Supposedly, he wasn't the only casualty. There were half a dozen other slaves in close distance. Unfortunately, none of them made it.
"They were already charred charcoal," said Dele as we rushed to bring the wounded person to somewhere he could be helped. "A'caen would have been fine if only he thought for a second and get back without playing the hero."
I raised an eyebrow at that comment, however, Dele didn't explain it anymore. From his tone, I understood Dele held a great deal of respect for A'caen, for whatever reason there was.
Well, I didn't even know the guy, yet I felt respect for him when I saw him beating the four guards.
Unfortunately, it seemed his luck had finally run out.
I didn't know how a person of his calibre ended up in the slaves, but he still wasn't enough to do anything about it. He was still enslaved and now damned for eternity.
I cursed inwardly. No matter how much I got used to this cursed place, it always surprised me with something new, something menacing, throwing me into the pits of depression and inevitable misery.
Dele and Imani carried A'caen hurriedly through the Collection Spot to the dwellings under the watchful gazes of the guards. They looked mostly bored, sticking to their position, no attempts to help the wounded person.
Well, A'caen or some great lord, it was nothing to them. To them, he was nothing but a slave and I figured plenty of them would be glad to find his demise.
However, some of the slaves weren't the same. Although they hadn't come to help, but they had a horrified look in their eyes. Well, there wasn't much any of them could do to heal.
They weren't a magical healer like that angel, only the cursed gods know where she was hiding now.
Anyway, these slaves had seen their share of tragedies, most tragedies in the mine couldn't phase them, but the charred man horrified a good few of them.
There were a few familiar figures present in the collection spot, probably because of the loud explosion. The hateful fellows in charge of lashing slaves, and guards, and many others I recognised through their faces were there, but my eyes were on the earthling that managed to stand out among them.
Joseph, the earthling guard, was never present most of the time, as his duty was probably somewhere else. However, today, he was here. He was staring at the figures of Dele and Imani carrying away the wounded man with all his focus. I saw fire in his eyes, a deep seethed anger that couldn't be explained by words.
The events progressed usually after they left with A'caen.
I and Cameron were just leaving after dropping our collection when Joseph stopped us. His expression was unreadable as he looked at us with unbridled superiority.
"You two," he said, not worried whether we were listening to him or not. "Your quota has been raised by one-third."
"What?" A low yell escaped from my lips before I could even understand him.
Joseph lifted an eyebrow to look at me. "Your quota has been raised by one-third," he repeated, furious eyes boring on me as if telling to challenge me, and I'll raise it another notch.
I cursed inwardly and did what most smart people would do. Suck it up.
Unfortunately, Joseph wasn't even finished. "And it will be raised by one-third every fortnight from now on," he said as the weight of the world fell on my back.
Joseph left after wishing us good luck. Nah, I'm kidding. The fellow acted like a total dick, which he was, and a monumental one at that. We'll get there later.
"Son of a bitch," I and Cameron cursed in unison and left for our dwellings with our shoulders sagged.
***
Later that night, someone knocked on my door, and it wasn't the familiar rhythm I and Cameron established to communicate.
I was still trying to meditate at that time, but the constant knock on the door didn't let me continue finding inner peace.
"Who's it?" I yelled, my voice containing irritation.
"It's me," said a manly voice with a thick accent.
"Yeah, that completely explained everything," I snorted. "So what're ya doin' knocking on my door, Me?"
The person groaned on the other side of the door. "It's Dele," he said at last. "Open up, I'm in a hurry."
This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶