Sett marched down the drift to the stope where they mined. It was at the same level as the fourth terrace, between Sett and Taban. He walked into the cavern, shooting scarred lip a glare. Inwardly, Sett sighed in relief. The plan hinged on the bastard being his guard for the day.

  Sett focused on mining, using the striking of pick against rock to calm his nerves. He was no stranger to recklessness, which meant he had all the more reason to be careful. One hundred and twenty eight…one hundred and twenty nine…

  In the absence of clocks or other indicators of time, he had to rely on his mind for plans that relied on precision. A floor below him, Taban would be doing the same. Sett wasn’t known for his ingenuity or clocklike precision, but he’d been practicing over the past two months for this. He timed his strikes on the ore with each second, the rhythm helping him keep the count.

  By the time second number ten thousand passed, Sett was struggling to focus. He knew his strikes had become too quiet, force exchanged for timing. He knew it was noticeable to those who observed him closely, like scarred lip. Ten thousand four hundred and thirty…ten thousand four hundred and thirty one…

  “You’re a little meek today, aren’t you? Decided mining our ore isn’t worthy of your exalted position?”

  Sett closed his eyes and cursed as scarred lip approached him. Ten thousand four hundred and eighty eight…Ten thousand four hundred and eighty nine…

  He struggled to keep count as he raised his pick, coming down harder than before. He knew it wouldn’t satisfy the guard. Ten thousand five hundred and eleven…Ten thousand five hundred and twelve…

  “Step towards me and get on your knees. I’ll show you how hard you must strike.”

  Sett obeyed, displaying his back so the man could finish his punishment and Sett could continue. Ten thousand five hundred and forty three…Ten thousand five hundred and forty four…

  “Such an obedient little haarn”

  The whip struck and Sett didn’t flinch. At this point, scarred lip’s whip felt like a calm breeze. The lashes came one after the other, a rhythmic pattern that aided Sett’s count. Ten thousand five hundred and eighty eight…Ten thousand five hundred and eighty nine…

  He counted each strike of the whip, internally glad to have something to correct his count against. Fifteen precise lashes in fifteen seconds later, Sett was soon back on his feet in front of the ore, his focus returning thanks to the brief rest.

  Twenty seven thousand nine hundred and ninety nine…twenty eight thousand.

  The planned time had come, and Sett knew Taban would begin his job downstairs. Sett was still mining in the stope, throwing a wrench in the plan. The mining sessions usually lasted between twenty seven thousand and twenty nine thousand, leaning closer to the former. Taban’s hard fought distraction would go to waste if they didn’t leave now. Sweat flowed through Sett’s muscles, his anxiety rising. Just when he was considering drastic steps, he heard the call.

  “Enough! Drop your pickaxes and leave!”

  Sett quietly placed his pick down, joining the crowd filing out with measured steps. He moved quickly, joining the first few out of the stope. He hoped Taban’s distraction was enough, and he would find out soon.

  He bent his head and blended into the crowd, looking for signs of something unusual going on. The sound of quick footsteps behind him gave him hope, and he glanced over his shoulder to see scarred lip storming forward with a communication crystal in hand. He broke out into a jog once he passed the crowd of slaves, disappearing into the distance.

  He glanced behind and saw the other two guards that were meant to follow his group far behind, in the middle of the line. The drift was narrow, and hundreds of slaves would take a while to pass through. Enough time for Sett to disappear and reappear.

  Ten minutes later, Sett saw the opening to a smaller drift, barely wide enough for three people to pass side by side, coming up to his left. It was a lesser used passage that led to the fifth terrace, mostly utilised by individual guards. Sett had discovered it during one of his food delivery runs, and it would be the place where he strikes.

  He leaned closer to the wall, letting the shadows embrace him. He had been practicing moving around unseen, hidden in the dark, and he had begun to feel a similar closeness to shadows as he did with steel. It wasn’t as profound, if steel felt like a welcoming friend, the darkness was more like an acquaintance. In this hellhole, against guards of their calibre, that was enough. The moment the train of slaves passed the other drift, Sett disappeared into it.

  He knew he might’ve been spotted by a few slaves, but they wouldn’t raise an alarm immediately. What they would do later was a problem for later.

  He stuck to the wall, moving as quietly as he could through the narrow passage. The fewer lights in this drift helped him, until he found a spot of darkness in the gap between two lights, halfway through the drift.

  He clung as closely to the wall as he could, calming his breathing and movement. His chains had been unwound a little to allow for better movement, and he held them still. He closed his eyes and waited, painfully aware of the sweat pouring out of him. His leg ached in anticipation, and soon he was rewarded.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  He heard a single pair of footsteps make their way up the drift. He opened his eyes, and glanced in their direction, his body almost trembling with excitement when he saw the scarred lip illuminated under the light. The man marched forward, his eyes set only ahead. He didn’t notice the hidden predator until it was too late.

  Sett lurched, feeling the mass in his arms where the chains were coiled, as he tackled his opponent. The man yelped, but reacted quickly, bringing his arms ahead of him to block.

  Sett powered through, slamming the Alfen against the wall. The impact forced the air out of the guard’s lungs, but caused Sett’s injured leg to buckle. His tormentor didn’t miss the opportunity, as he grappled Sett with both hands and threw him to the ground.

  “You bastard! I’ll flay you alive!”

  He activated his energy whip, bringing it down on Sett’s face. One, two, and three strikes later Sett blocked with one arm, allowing the rope of energy wrap around his forearm along with his chains.

  He felt the rage in him swell and he welcomed his tempestuous Ether as swung his remaining arm in the direction of the guard’s legs, his chains slamming into the man’s shins with the force of all his pent up fury. Sett heard a crack as the man cried out, his voice echoing in the drift. The sadistic bastard fell to the floor, dropping the whip.

  Sett took his chance and quickly rose to his knees. He grabbed the man’s hair and pulled him up, winding his chain around his neck. Sett pulled from both sides, all the rage and fury coursing through his arms. Bone’s face flashed in his mind as he pulled, until a satisfying crack reached his ears and Sett felt the life leave his opponent’s body. He relaxed his arms, and the lifeless body of Bone’s killer dropped on the ground.

  Sett stared at him, resisting the urge to punch the corpse till it was barely recognisable, and turned around. He hurried up the way he came, leaving the scarred lipped bastard to rot.

  The whole ordeal barely took ten minutes since Sett entered the drift, and the group he was a part of was still passing by. After confirming there were no guards in the immediate vicinity, he quietly merged with the crowd, ignoring curious stares.

  His heart pounded loudly in his chest, and sweat flowed like a river. This was the first time Sett had ever killed a sapient being, and he felt no regret. He only wished to do the same to his long list of enemies. His hands clutched his chains tightly, the fetters that bound him to servitude now a weapon against those who forced them on him.

  ****

  Sett waited for the excitement to calm down as he sat in the cavern. Brec sat next to him, the same despondent look on his face. The boy hadn’t even noticed Sett’s absence, he just mindlessly trudged along with the rest of the group.

  Sett opened his mouth to speak, but he heard movement out in the drift. He knew immediately, the body had been found. Two guards stormed in, their faces livid.

  “All you ungrateful wretches who did this! Move!”

  Their whips were out, and they cracked it on the ground. The terrified crowd hurried to their feet, filing out of the doorway they had just entered through.

  The guards led them through the internal labyrinth of the mine, and Sett could hear similar noises of crowds scrambling through other drifts. They made their way downwards, joined by more and more slaves, and their furious guards.

  Whips flew out unrestrained in the cramped space, squeals of pain coming from around the crowd. They were packed together tightly, even the guards clinging to the walls couldn’t escape the shoving. Their flailing whips gave them some space, but the crowd was reaching unmanageable levels. Sett could barely move, his position determined by the ebb and flow of the throng. Air was growing scarce, and he could hear gasps resounding from all over.

  He would’ve assumed this situation itself was part of the collective punishment for killing a guard, if the guards themselves weren’t suffering through it. He imagined they’d never had such a situation, which would explain why they forced thousands of people through such cramped passages with no airflow.

  Just when Sett noticed people passing out, unconscious bodies littering the ground, they burst out of an adit. The crowd flowed like water, and Sett used the opportunity to get some space, dragging Brec with him.

  They had emerged out of the terrace above the punishment pillars. He could see the pillars clearly from here, and he knew why the twelve bodies hung from there, Taban’s bloody face greeting him.

  Taban had started a fight between slaves in his own chamber. By the twelve people Sett saw hanging, he was more successful than expected. From their conversations with other slaves over the past few months, they learned that such fights sometimes happened, the weight of despair pushed people’s nerves on edge and the smallest spark could force suppressed emotions out.

  They knew how the guards would react, a single guard would be called in for assistance from each surrounding patrol. Scarred lip was infamous in these three terraces as a sadist who took pleasure in their torment. They had hoped he’d be called in to quell the fight, and they were right. He had showed up, swung his whip around, and returned like protocol called for. Sett ambushed him on the closest drift near the mine to the fifth terrace, and Bone was avenged.

  Sett felt no remorse for taking the life of a person, but he felt a pang of regret seeing Taban punished for his goal. The Alfen was the brains behind the operation, taking the plan from impulsive madness to precise success, and Sett hoped he’d come out of the ordeal alive. The guilt would crush him if his accomplice died.

  The rest of the crowd had exited the adit, and the guards began taking them to the pillars. The last ones to leave got no moment to catch their break, as they were dragged down the stairs as soon as they stepped out.

  “Kneel! Down!”

  The crowd was gathered around the twelve pillars holding the miscreants, Sett finding a place under Taban. The man was conscious, like the other dozen. It had been barely an hour since scarred lip was killed, so they shouldn’t have been hanging there for long.

  Sett threw a glance up at his accomplice, who met his gaze. Sett nodded, and he saw the hint of a grin form on Taban’s face before disappearing.

  “Hands! Up!”

  The second command had every slave kneeling with their arms in the air, and Sett saw confusion and terror in a thousand faces. Even Brec showed a rare glimpse of emotion as he glanced towards Sett with fear in his eyes.

  Two guards circled the crowd, dragging the lifeless corpse of scarred lip around so that everyone got a good look. Sett saw the imprint of his chains around the bastard’s neck and almost smiled. Brec’s eyes widened and he threw a look of horror at Sett before quickly averting his gaze.

  “Today! A guard was killed! One of you ungrateful wretches spat in the mercy of the Grand Duke and slaughtered one of his enforcers! You will kneel here until we find out who is responsible! If you cannot kneel any more, you will be assisted by the pillar of punishment!”

  Sett felt several powerful presences descend upon them. He knew immediately. The E grades were here.