Chapter 38: Second battle.
Mordred opened his eyes abruptly, his body heavy and aching from the exhaustion accumulated during his evening with Jonah and the others in his home world. The contrast was brutal, icy. He was back in that dark, damp cell, the air filled with the rancid smell of sweat, dried blood and cold earth. His heart was beating violently, his breathing labored, and a dull rage was already rumbling inside him at the ongoing injustice of his situation.
The cell’s heavy metal door opened violently, revealing the massive figure of the dragon-guard, who entered arrogantly, violently striking the bars with the handle of his whip to rudely awaken the still-sleeping slaves.
- Get up, you vermin!" he shouted brutally, his tone full of palpable contempt. Today, you’re going back into the mine, and none of you will leave this place without fulfilling your quota!
Mordred waited a moment, his gaze instinctively turning to the door, secretly hoping to catch another glimpse of Akane, the strong, enigmatic woman who had saved him earlier. But this time, the door remained empty. No one came to interrupt the daily brutality of his existence. The guard seemed to sense his silent expectation and sneered cruelly:
- Were you expecting your little protector? Not today, vermin. Today, you’ll finally understand that you’re nothing but an insignificant slave!
The dragon grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him violently out of the cell without any precaution. Mordred gritted his teeth, holding back a grunt of pain as the rusty chains rubbed painfully against his already wounded wrists.
He was thrown unceremoniously into the convoy of slaves, the other prisoners staring blankly, resigned, terrified of the exhausting day ahead. The journey to the mine was made in heavy silence, broken only by the occasional crack of the dragon-guards’ whips against the slaves’ backs, slowing their pace.
The mine was still as dark, damp and oppressive as he remembered. The acrid smell of dust and sweat saturated the air, and Mordred felt his heart clench with apprehension at the thought of reliving another day of extreme suffering. Yet, as he grabbed the rusty pickaxe that was rudely thrown at him, he immediately noticed the difference.
His increased stats now gave him a new strength, an impressive ease of movement. He struck his first blow against the hard rock, immediately feeling the raw power that now animated his muscles, his increased speed enabling him to efficiently shatter the pieces of rock.
The guards immediately noticed Mordred’s unusual efficiency, approaching warily, their reptilian eyes charged with a mixture of concern and suspicion. Yet they said nothing, simply watching, intrigued by this strange development.
Before long, Mordred found his first moonstone, glinting softly in the oppressive darkness.