Rising god

"Tch, he even has a last name?" a grizzled mining slave sneered as Aires introduced himself. The man’s voice dripped with disdain, his ragged frame hunched in the dim cave.

"Should we beat him again?" another growled, cracking his knuckles.

"Stop!" the lady shouted, her voice cutting through the tension. She stepped protectively in front of Aires, her dirt-streaked face set with determination. Aires, still sore from his earlier beating, tensed, ready to defend himself.

"Haa, don’t mind them," she said, offering a faint smile that softened the gloom. "They’re just bitter."

Before Aires could respond, shouts echoed from the cave’s entrance. "Time to work!" Guards in gleaming armor appeared, their presence commanding immediate obedience.

The slaves rose wearily, their movements mechanical. Aires followed, joining the long line filing out of the cave. They descended the mountain, its rocky path winding toward the base. From their vantage point, a grand white cathedral loomed atop a distant peak, its spires piercing the sky.

’Is that the temple?’ Aires wondered.

"That’s the parish’s temple," the woman replied, as if reading his thoughts.

"Um, sorry, I don’t know your name."

"Oh! It’s Charis." She smiled but offered no last name. Aires noted the omission but didn’t press.

At the mountain’s foot, a small shed stood with a counter where slaves reported their daily work. "That’s where we record our progress and get our daily reward," Charis explained.

Aires nodded, joining the line to collect an axe and some sacks. The slaves were divided into groups, each led to a different mining shaft. Aires’ group entered a cavernous chamber within the mountain, its walls studded with countless black, glossy objects that shimmered faintly in the torchlight.