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15. Shadows in the Routine

  The next few days in Ashen Valley took on an eerie atmosphere. People began disappearing near the mining area—first a miner on night patrol, then a child helping transport supplies the following day. No one knew where they had gone; only a few dried bloodstains and scattered tools were found near the mine entrance. Rumors spread like wildfire: some said the mine was haunted, others claimed the Rebirth Company itself was cursed, and a few even suspected Nick had brought some kind of bad luck with him.

  That evening, Ethan sat by a campfire next to the Dawn, frowning as he listened to the group’s discussions. Jake sat beside him, twirling his wrench, his tone light but unable to mask a trace of worry. “Things have been off lately. The miners are scared stiff, talking all sorts of nonsense.”

  Tara, cradling her steel blade, tilted her head slightly, her suspicious gaze sweeping Nick up and down. She spoke coldly, “I think someone’s stirring up trouble on purpose. Weren’t you with the colonial army before? What new tricks are you playing now?”

  Nick’s hand paused briefly as he cleaned his gun, but his expression didn’t waver. He looked up at her, his tone calm and measured. “I cut ties with the colonial army long ago, Tara. But if you’re set on thinking that way, I’ve got nothing to say.”

  With that, he lowered his head and continued organizing his weapons, his movements calm and orderly, as if the suspicion directed at him had nothing to do with him.

  The morning dust haze had yet to clear when McCollum’s figure appeared at the edge of the mining area. Leaning on a homemade wooden staff, he led a few new miners to inspect the equipment, occasionally letting out rough but warm-hearted instructions.

  “You young pups, move faster—don’t just stand there staring at the sky.” McCollum tapped the shell of a mining machine, his voice low and steady. “This old thing waits for no one. If it breaks, you fix it—don’t expect Jake to come save the day every time.” He turned to a scrawny young miner named Mason, grinning. “That ‘ghost scream’ from yesterday still got your legs shaking, huh?”

  Mason’s face turned red as he scratched his head. “Big Brother McCollum, don’t tease me. That sound was really creepy—I still feel like something’s off.”

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  McCollum laughed heartily, patting his shoulder. “Work a few more years, and you’ll get it. It’s just the wind blowing through the pipes—don’t scare yourself.” He paused, squinting toward the depths of the mine, and added, “But these past few days have been a bit strange. Keep your wits about you while working, and don’t wander off.”

  According to the miners, McCollum had been showing up more frequently lately. Unlike before, when he’d only appear during shift changes, he was now often seen leading patrols, checking equipment, clearing debris, or standing at the mine entrance staring into the distance. The miners whispered among themselves that old McCollum might be worried about more disappearances—after all, there was still no word on the people who had gone missing a few days ago.

  At noon, Ethan arrived at the mining area with Jake and Tara to check on progress. McCollum was crouched on the ground, slowly wiping the tracks of an excavator with an oil-stained rag. He looked up at them, a simple, honest smile spreading across his face. “What brings you folks down here today?”

  Ethan nodded slightly, crouching beside him. “Supplies are getting tight—I came to see if these machines can dig up anything more.” He glanced at the old excavator. “Jake was bragging that this thing can still run?”

  McCollum gave the machine a light pat, his gaze gentle and his tone certain. “It can run, alright, but it guzzles fuel. We tested it for half an hour yesterday and dug up some low-grade iron ore—barely enough to patch up a few pieces of gear.” He turned to Jake, the corners of his eyes crinkling with an appreciative smile. “Kid, I didn’t expect your skills to be this good. Even an old miner like me is impressed.”

  Jake grinned broadly, his wrench spinning deftly in his hand. “Heh, Brother McCollum, you’re speaking right to my heart! But this old thing still needs some tuning. It was shaking like a sieve yesterday—I’m worried it might fall apart one of these days.”

  Tara, leaning nearby with her steel blade in her arms, let out a cold humph. “If it falls apart, good—saves us from your constant banging and clanging that gives everyone a headache.” She suddenly fixed her gaze on McCollum. “Old man, you’ve been hanging around the mine a lot lately. What are you looking at?”

  McCollum froze for a moment, then waved a hand, a hint of helplessness on his face. “Nothing special—just checking if the equipment’s holding up. With those disappearances a few days ago, I’m worried someone might have fallen into an abandoned shaft. This place has too many tunnels—if someone falls in, they’d be hard to find.” He laughed lightly, lowering his head to continue wiping the tracks, softly humming a long, indistinct miner’s tune. But his expression gradually became somewhat vacant.

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