Mining was hard work!

  I didn’t have a pick or anything, so I had to improvise with a medical bone chisel and the hammer I received as payment for healing. The bone chisel was small, and I broke two until I figured out how to use them without damaging them. I also broke a few emeralds until I learned how to maneuver around the stoo dislodge them. The dust was choking me, so I donned a surgical mask. After about an hour, my eyes stung—the oil mp light was insuffit. After awo hours, my knees ached from kneeling—I started from the bottom—and my shoulder muscles hurt. Thank God for the Heal Muscle spell.

  As I hit the rock, a surge of old anger bubbled up from deep inside me. Memories of growing up in foster care flooded back, memories I’d tried so hard to bury. Each strike of the chisel and hammer against the stone was like a release valve for the pent-up rage I had carried for years.

  The first foster home wasn’t too bad, but I was only five and already knew I was unwahat is until the bully arrived. From that moment on, it was a nightmare of ER visits and looking over my shoulder. The sed was worse. Mrs. Reynolds had a sharp tongue and a sharper hand. I remembered the sting of her sps and the way she would lock me in the closet for hours when I dared to speak back. Hitting the rock, I pictured her face, her cruel, twisted smile, and I hit harder. The stone cracked, and I felt a small measure of satisfa.

  I worked for another hour until I needed a break. During this time, I mined an area rger than a square meter. Looking at the vast cavern, I estimated that, with my speed, it would take me at least a year to mi.

  Not good.

  The strike brought back memories of Mr. Turhe foster father who’d initially seemed kind. He was a drunk, and his kiuro violeer a few drinks. I remembered the time he threw a bottle at me, cutting my forehead open. The chisel slipped in my hand as I thought of him, and I cursed, readjusting my grip. The bottle, the blood, the cold indifferen his eyes as he told me to it up—each memory fueled my strikes, and the rock yielded more easily.

  Stretch was o be found, so I left the cave to look for him. I found him dozihe cave entrance as the sun was setting. I called him in for dinner, fed us both, id out the sleeping bag and b for Stretch, and y there thinking about a faster solution.

  Maybe there’s a light spell?

  I facepalmed again—it was being my signature move, and I didn’t like what it said about me. Why hadn’t I thought of buying the butchering and skinning skills instead of looking for people to teach me?

  I looked through the Spells list and found a few different light spells. After reading their descriptions, I chose a eled spell that allowed me to ge the light iy as needed and trol its pt. It cost two ability points instead of one, but the added trol was worth the price.

  46 ability points left.

  ADAPTABLE LIGHT BALL

  Description: Adaptable Light Ball is a versatile eled spell that grants the caster the ability to manipute light with precision. This spell allows the user to adjust the iy of the light, ranging from a gentle glow to a bright, focused beam. Additionally, the caster trol the pt of the light, making it possible to illuminate specific areas or objects as needed. Ideal for tasks requiriailed work or creating a ized lighting enviro.Cost: 2 Ability Points

  I bought the skinning, butchering, and mining skills. Just in case, I looked through the Spells and Skills again to see if anything could help my looting, but there was still nothing.

  Oh well, you ’t have everything.

  43 ability points left.

  The day, mining was more manageable but still challenging. It turned out that even with the skill, it was still tricky if you didn’t have the right tools. At least I progressed faster, and the light spell was terrific. Stretch spent most of his time outside; he didn’t like to stay in the cave.

  A custrophobic dog?

  The days blurred together as I mined, each strike of the chisel against the rock chipping away not just the sto the anger inside me. I thought about the other foster kids—how they would form alliances and protect each other when they could, but ultimately, everyone was out for themselves, and I was an unwanted outcast from the start. The betrayals stung the most. I hit the rock with renewed force, the chisel biting deep.

  As the days turned into weeks, I thought about one of the st homes where they pced me. The Petersons. They weren’t physically abusive, but they were ful in the worst way. I remembered ing home to ay house with no food and no oo ask how my day was. They didn’t care if I came home or not. The loneliness of those years was a wound that never fully healed. The rock cracked under my relentless assault, and I allowed myself a small, grim smile. Each piece that fell away iece of the past I was letting go.

  For the few days, I kept w through my memories. Each hammer strike a cathartic release. I remembered Mrs. Kendall, who had me for a year when I was twelve. She was obsessed with liness and would make me scrub floors with a toothbrush if she thought I wasn’t thh enough. Every night, I went to bed with raw, ag hands. I eled that pain into my mining, and each k of emerald felt like a victory over those memories.

  The days blurred together, eae slightly less burdened by the past. I recalled Mr. Jenkins, who never hit me but used words as his ons. He’d tear me down, calling me worthless, saying I’d never amount to anything. I hit the rock with a fury that left my muscles burning, but I kept going, not just for the emeralds but for the sing of my soul. With each blow, I felt lighter, like I was breaking free from the s of my past. After one especially strong and angry strike, I felt like a bubble of hurt popped inside of me and dissipated. My whole being unched and a wave of intense relief washed over me.

  For almost two weeks, I worked like that until I ran out of mana-rich meat. Even though I didn’t want to leave the cave yet, I also didn’t want to dey Stretch’s awakening. I took out one of my coolers, which was full of chi, and eled mana into it. My goal was to mahe mana flow to prevent the meat from “exploding,” only saturating it. It worked partially. The smaller pieces, like chi breasts and wings, still “popped” and became minced chi, but the whole chis stayed whole. I felt very aplished—it rogress, after all.

  For aen days, I worked until there were no stones I could reach. I took out my “operating table,” climbed on it, and tio mine. I checked my profile to see the progress of my mining skill. It had progressed little, only to level 3, which was strange; I had mined a lot.

  Maybe because I was improvising and not using the right tools?

  It surprised me to see that my mana had risen another 600. It was now 6150/6900. Again, there was no rhyme or reason. I didn’t eve upset; there was no point. Some entity in the sky assigned random numbers whe felt like it. At least the number never went down, just up.

  I tinued for ahree weeks until I couldn’t reach higher while standing oable. Of course, I didn’t bring a dder; why would I? For a minute or two, I thought about leaving the rest, but my greed had a tantrum while stomping its foot and wouldn’t let me.

  I thought about it for a while and had an idea. I went outside, climbed down the mountain, and looked for trees with retively narrow but tall trunks. It took a while; I wasn’t in a forest, so I had to search for trees. Finally, I found two long and narrow trunks. At least I bought hatchets from the camping store. Without them, it would have been impossible. In addition, I gathered sturdy branches and used the bone saw from the field dressing kit to cut them to approximately oer. I received a hammer as payment for healing, which I used for mining, but I didn’t have any nails. I was feeling less self-scious about the crazy amount of stuff I bought and beginning to realize that I hadn’t bought enough.

  I should find a bcksmith or something and stock up on work tools and nails.

  I id the two trunks, arrahe branches as dder steps, and tied them with rope—at least, I bought a lot of rope. Now, I had a tall dder about 3.5-4 meters long. Carrying it up the mountain was very cumbersome, and I almost fell a few times, but I managed. As I made my way through the narrow passage, I had to push it in front of me. And when I reached the cavern, it was hard to maneuver with it because of the rock mounds resulting from my mining. Some maintenance was in order.

  With an enormous trunk and a shovel in hand, I started loading the debris into the trunk. After ten minutes of work, I facepalmed a very embarrassed. I walked between the mounds and “stored” them. When the cave was retively , I went outside and called for Stretch—I didn’t want to bury him by act—walked away from the cave, and summoned all the dirt. I created a small avanche when it all fell down the mountain, but when it settled at the bottom, it didn’t look like I did a lot of damage.

  My face fmed red when I remembered the dder I carried up the mountain. I didn’t need a mirror to know, and I fidgeted unfortably. Thank God there was no oo see. Otherwise, I’d have to leave Shimoor out of sheer shame.

  I returo the cavern and tinued mining. It took me another five weeks to mine all the emeralds I could reach. Some stones were still higher, but my greed was quiet this time; it uood the plexity. I also had to saturate with mana awo meat coolers; Stretch ate a lot. I identified him to see his progress i three months.

  Stretch

  Adult Bushnd Dog

  Progress to awakening 67%

  “You are looking good, my friend.” He wagged his tail and licked my face.

  I added mana to my light spell and walked around the cavern to see if I missed some accessible stones. I didn’t see any. Then I got an idea. I still had 6 stat points I didn’t know what to do with, so I added them to Luck.

  Luck: 28

  I checked my mana—no ge. As I thought, there was no rhyme or reason. I ehe active Luck ability and looked around the cave again. Two areas “pinged” in my awareness. I marked oh a tent peg and began w oher. I had to clear some rod dirt, but then I reached another deposit of emeralds, which were even bigger. It took me another week to mihe two hidden pockets.

  After I was done, I activated my Luck again and checked. Nothing pinged; even my Luew the stones up high were unreachable. Smart Luck. I snickered at the thought, collected all my stuff spread over the cavern, took the improvised dder with me, just in case, ahe cave. I three months, I miwo enormous chests of emeralds and was feeling very rich.

  It was midday outside, and being out longer was nice. I left the cave to relieve myself and to get a sense of the days, but other than that, I spent all my time inside. I climbed to the mountaintop again and sat down, enjoying the view. For such a long time, I focused on small areas all the time a like I was being cross-eyed. It was o expand my field of vision. I took my camera out and took some pictures.

  By evening, I returo the cave o time, fed us both, and slept. The following day, we o “visit” the bison.