Chapter 296 - The March of Time (Patreon)

Zeke sagged against the wall of the barracks and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Nearby, Jasper sat on his own pallet, his forearms resting on his knees. Multiple burns decorated his bare arms, and half of his hair on the right side had been burned off. He looked even more exhausted than Zeke felt.

“This isn’t working,” Zeke muttered.

And it was true, too. He’d been back in the mining camp for almost a month, working his fingers to the bone, and he had nothing to show for it. Even after turning in the high-quality ore he’d gathered on his last solo expedition, he could barely keep his head above water. It wasn’t surprising; the whole system was designed in such a way as to make climbing the ladder almost impossible.

Never mind trying to earn some of the rare resources the dwarves had listed in the contribution store; it was all anyone could do to meet the quotas required to get enough to eat, much less save up for some big purchase. The system, Zeke had found, was inherently unfair. Not surprising, given that they were all slaves, but it still rankled on his nerves.

It wasn’t a secret, either. Everyone knew that earning anything significant was a pipe dream, but enslaved as they were, the slaves still clung to the possibility because that was all they had. Otherwise, more than a few of them would have surrendered to apathy and joined the handful of slaves who committed suicide each day.

Zeke certainly wasn’t at that point – after all, he had options – but if he’d been stuck in their situation, he might’ve considered it. As it was, he wasn’t really one of them. At any point, he could head down into the mines and survive well enough on his own. More, the senses he’d gained from his earth affinity suggested that there were other exits. They were far away and would require weeks – if not months – to reach, but he felt certain he could find his way out.

But escape was not, nor had it ever been, his goal.

Oberon had put him in the dwarves’ path for a reason, and he intended to bleed them dry before he went on his way. He’d already gained so much – his earth affinity, levels, and the bronze golems displayed in his tower – but he knew there was more to be had. He just needed to find a way to take it.

To that end, he’d been trying to earn his way onto one of the expedition teams he suspected gathered resources on the other side of the portal to the demon realm. He’d yet to see the gateway – in fact, he knew it was miles away – but as he’d leveled, Zeke had become progressively more sensitive to the corruption in the air. In the mining camp as well as the mines beneath it, it was thin enough as to be powerless, but he could feel that it grew stronger somewhere up above.

“Yes,” agreed Jasper. “I will be stuck working the bellows for years at this rate.”

Despite having been recruited in a technically more prestigious job working in the forges, Jasper hadn’t had an easier time than Zeke. In fact, given how many times he’d been burned, it could be argued that the dark elf had it much worse, despite his more robust compensation of contribution points. Most of that surplus went to pay for healing ointments needed to treat the burns.

Such wouldn’t have been an issue for Zeke, given his near immunity to fire, but he’d yet to be afforded the opportunity. Instead, he was stuck as a mid-level guard for mining teams who delved the moderately dangerous tunnels. It was better than where he’d started, but not enough to justify the increased risk.

However, the weeks hadn’t been completely wasted. In that time, Zeke had further familiarized himself with his earth affinity, and he’d also made some headway in building his level thirty skill. The foundation had been laid, and of late, he’d been working on building a frame which would support the rest of the skill’s runes. If he’d tried to do something a little less complicated, he might’ve already been done, but he refused to settle for anything but the best. More, he had no intention of rushing it.

To his surprise, the biggest issue wasn’t his knowledge. He’d spent enough time studying runes, and his path had progressed far enough that he had the requisite skill. But even in the best of situations, runecraft was a tedious, time-consuming process, and it was even more so when he was building something from scratch.

And, of course, he had the Framework’s guiding hand as well. The effect was subtle, but to Zeke, it felt like he was riding a bike with training wheels. While he appreciated it, he wasn’t so naïve that he expected that would always be the case. If what he suspected turned out to be true – and based on his experiences with the Framework, it would be – he would only get help with a few skills. After that, he’d almost assuredly be on his own. So, he needed to take advantage of it while he had the help.

Thus, Zeke had set his goals as high as he could. To that end, he’d also spent quite a bit of time studying the bronze golems he had stored away. It wasn’t easy doing so without seeing them in person, but he couldn’t very well summon the tower – or one of the golems – in the mining camp. So, he made do, and despite that handicap, his progress had been satisfactory. Not incredible, but not bad by any stretch of the imagination.

But Zeke was quickly approaching the limits of what he could do without changing his situation, so he’d begun to plan for another trip down into the mines. That wasn’t uncommon; many of the slaves did as much in order to augment their pool of contribution points. Many were killed, but the dwarves didn’t seem to care about attrition. So long as the ore continued to flow, they left the slaves mostly to their own devices.

It was an inefficient system; if Zeke was in charge, he’d have taken a much more active approach. However, for the seemingly apathetic dwarves, even their current level of effort seemed like a chore. Perhaps it had something to do with their exposure to corrupting influence of the demonic atmosphere.

Fáinn had certainly thought so.

But there was no way for Zeke to be sure, and if he was honest, he didn’t really care. Certainly, the story of the dwarves was a sad one, but he had difficulty sympathizing with them, given that their entire economy seemed to be based on slavery. Once, they might’ve been good people, but now, they were, at best, hollow shells. At worst, they were a malicious, callous people who’d built everything on the backs of slaves. Even if he hadn’t technically been one of them, Zeke would have judged them harshly.

“This has to change,” Zeke said, shaking his head. It wasn’t the first time he’d said as much, and he suspected it wouldn’t be the last. In truth, he knew he didn’t have room to complain – after all, he could leave whenever he wanted, unlike the other slaves – but the idea of escaping without getting everything he needed absolutely disgusted him. “At first, I thought I could just keep my head down and follow the rules. Eventually, my efforts would be rewarded, and I’d end up with what I want. But now? I’m not spending a decade down here.”

“What option do we have?” asked Jasper.

“I don’t know,” Zeke admitted. “Do you know where the portal is?”

“No.”

It was a predictable response. Zeke had never outright asked, but he suspected that if Jasper had known its location, he’d have already revealed the knowledge.

Suddenly, the door to the barracks swung open, and Zeke saw a wide-shouldered dwarf step inside. Everyone froze. The din of whispered conversations died down. And every single slave tensed.

The dwarves, hands-off as they were, rarely visited the slave barracks. That one was standing in the doorway couldn’t be good. At least it wasn’t one of the armored ones.

“You,” the gravelly voiced dwarf growled, pointing directly at Zeke. “With me.”

Zeke knew better than to refuse. He might’ve been able to flee into the mining tunnels and escape that way, but he definitely wasn’t in any shape to fight a city full of dwarves. Perhaps if he gained a couple dozen more levels – and the skills that came with it – but even then, it wouldn’t be an attractive prospect.

Besides, he was curious about why he’d been singled out.

So, he quickly pushed himself to his feet and crossed the barracks, keenly aware that every slave’s eyes followed him. He ignored their scrutiny as he approached the dwarf. He was dressed much as any of the others, save that he’d left his muscular arms completely bare, displaying dozens of jagged scars. His beard was long, braided, and deep black streaked with white. Otherwise, his features were similar to every other dwarf’s – prominent nose, narrow eyes, and a complexion that veered closer to light grey than a color normally associated with flesh.

Pointedly, Zeke noted that the dwarves he’d seen in the vision – at least the ones fighting on the side of the king – had more natural coloring. There was something to that, he was certain.

In any case, he didn’t have the chance to ponder that before the dwarf grunted, “Come.”

Then, without any other communication, he turned and strode away, his heavy steps clomping on the rocky ground. Zeke followed, and even his comparatively long stride had difficulty keeping up. Still, he managed well enough as the dwarf led him from the mining camp and into one of the tunnels that would lead into the heart of the city. Zeke had only been that way once, but he vividly remembered his first trek through Min Ferilik.

However, their path didn’t take them back to the crystalline bridges or the imposing spire in the center of that yawning chasm; instead, it wasn’t long before the dwarf led him to another wide chamber. This one was different than the mining camp, though. For one, it was far less populated. If there were two dozen slaves there, Zeke would have been surprised. These slaves – all of different races – looked healthier, too. Stronger.

But the most prominent difference was in the center of the chamber, where a wide, circular pit had been dug.

Each of the slaves looked up at the new arrivals, and Zeke saw more than one appraising stare. Even that brief moment gave Zeke the impression that he’d walked into a den of predators.

The dwarf pointed at a door carved into wall and said, “You sleep there now. Wait. Train. Fight. No more mining.”

Then, without another word, the dwarf turned and walked away, disappearing down a separate tunnel a moment later.

As Zeke watched him go, he muttered, “What the…”

“He’s like that,” came a high-pitched voice from behind him. He turned to see a tall, willow thin woman. Sort of. His assumption of her gender was based on her shape, which was definitely feminine. However, her resemblance to a human being ended there, as she looked like she was made entirely of twining roots. Her hair resembled moss, and she had eschewed clothing. “Name’s Eta. I’m one of the few people around here who’ll take the time to tell newcomers what’s going on.”

“Uh…what…what are you?” Zeke asked before his mind could catch up to his mouth. He needn’t have worried about his rudeness, because Eta answered with a laugh.

“I get that a lot,” she said. “I’m a dryad. You know, nature spirit given physical form. Not that it does me much good down here, what with there being a distinct lack of trees. If mother could see me now…”

“Just tell ‘im what’s goin’ on, Eta,” came another voice, and Zeke looked down to see a small, furry humanoid creature that reminded him of a possum, if said possum had a glorious mustache and an artificial arm that looked like it ran on steam power. Seeing Zeke’s surprise, the possum man sighed, adding, “I’m a dirble. She’s a dryad. And there’s a iliran running around somewhere over there. Don’t piss her off, though. She’s a bit cranky on account of there not being much water. But you’ll see.”

“Uh…”

“Leave him alone, Feran,” Eta said, rolling her human-like eyes. She pushed her mossy hair behind a pointed ear made of wood and said, “So, here’s the deal. You’re a pit fighter now. Step up from being a miner, but it comes with a little more danger. Most of the time, we get thrown into fights against monsters and such, but sometimes, they make us fight one another. If that happens, sorry – it’s nothing personal. Just survival, I’m sure you understand.”

Zeke had heard others mention the Pits, but he’d never seriously considered that an option. But now, it seemed that he was going to have to get busy wrapping his mind around the idea.

“We get weapons or anything? Do they take off the collars and cuffs?” he asked.

“Nope!” she said, her voice full of cheer.

“Fantastic,” he muttered.

“Don’t be like that,” she said. “This is a big opportunity. So long as you don’t die, I mean. But you’re here, so you’re not completely hopeless. That’s something, at least.”

“Bit skeptical of the not dyin’ part,” said Feran. “But I been surprised before. Might be one of those times.”

Zeke just shook his head. The change in his circumstances was sudden, but he wasn’t sure it was necessarily a bad thing. The pit fighters were obviously a step up from the miners, his reassignment was a step in the right direction. If he proved himself in the pits, perhaps he could finally join one of the expeditions.

Or maybe he would just die, as Feran seemed convinced would happen.

But while that was obviously a possibility, Zeke liked his chances. After all, as strong as these others were, he didn’t think they were on his level. He was prepared to be wrong, though. After all, he had little concept of how he stacked up against everyone else. Thankfully, Eta seemed to want that same question answered, so she asked, “Fancy a spar?”

“Uh…sure. I guess,” he said. “But maybe after I get settled in…”

“Oh, nonsense,” she said, grabbing his arm; he noticed that her grip was like steel. Immediately, she started dragging him to the pit in the center of the room. “I’ll go easy on you.”

“Easy, she says,” Feran muttered, following along. “That means she might only break your bones. Careful, kid. She can’t control her strength near as much as she thinks she can. Don’t be afraid to tap out’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Fantastic,” Zeke mumbled to himself as Eta hopped into the pit. Already, the other pit fighters had noticed what was going on and started to gather around the ring. He couldn’t back down, now. Not with everyone watching.  So, even though he still hadn’t gotten his bearings, Zeke hopped down next to Eta.

After she pointed him to one side, she took a position on the other and asked, “You ready?”

Zeke rolled his shoulders, then cracked his neck before saying, “I guess so.  Let’s do it.”