Chapter 21: Mining Continues
Jagged mountain peaks loomed over the land, their sharp edges crowned with thick frost. The chilling winds howled through the air, their icy breath sinking into the very bones of those who dwelled beneath them.
Deep within the heart of these peaks, a vast network of winding tunnels stretched endlessly, their walls lined with glistening veins of precious ore. The tunnels pulsed with life—but not the kind that thrived.
A dim, flickering glow from wall-mounted fire crystals barely illuminated the hundreds of people inside. Their silhouettes moved in rhythmic unison, pickaxes striking stone in a ceaseless, punishing cycle.
Sweat dripped from their brows. Their hands were blistered, their bodies aching. Yet, none dared to stop.
Among them, murmurs spread like wildfire.
"It’s been a whole month, and that bastard noble hasn’t shown his face once."
A skinny man scoffed, his voice laced with resentment. "Didn’t he say something about ’only the strong surviving’? Now that we’re raking in money for him, he doesn’t even bother to check on us."
A young woman joined in, spitting on the ground. "Aren’t all nobles like that? Using people, making empty promises, then leaving them to rot."
An old man—his frame hunched from years of toil—paused his work. He exhaled deeply, then turned toward the growing crowd of frustrated workers. "You all like to complain, but none of you have the guts to do anything."
The murmurs stopped.
His words struck a nerve.