Chapter 50: A Desperate Gamble

Leimor’s infuriating words once again caused the Old Man to cough up a torrent of hot blood.

Reeling back several steps, the Old Man, overwhelmed by a surge of anger and the wounds Leimor had inflicted, collapsed to the ground.

****

Beneath the towering platform, the guards, tasked with overseeing the prisoners’ arduous mining to prevent any idleness, received a hushed, secret order. Instantly, their faces reverted to expressions of cold indifference.

“What are you all gawking at? Get your damn asses back to work!”

A towering Troll, its skin a canvas of deep wrinkles and its formidable fangs bared, brandished a leather whip that cracked menacingly against the earth as it bellowed.

The multitude, who had initially stood transfixed, craning their necks towards the high platform to discern the unfolding events, now frantically wielded their shovels and pickaxes, resuming their ceaseless excavation.

Observing their sudden compliance, the Troll sought out a suitable spot, crossed its burly arms, and feigned a nap, its eyes narrowed to slits.

Lost within the throng, Aric mimicked the others, striking the rock face a few perfunctory blows with his shovel.

Once assured that no one had noticed him, he swiftly discarded his shovel and sprinted towards the elevated platform.

While he remained ignorant of the precise events unfolding above, a potent intuition suggested this might be his sole opportunity for escape.

Driven by an unyielding desire for freedom, he resolved to wager everything on this moment; his very survival hinged upon this desperate gamble.

“Hey? What are you doing?”

Near the edge of the high platform, a monstrous Orc, its features contorted into a perpetual snarl, sensed a faint breeze and cast a suspicious glance over its shoulder.

Upon witnessing Aric brazenly scrambling onto the platform directly beneath its watchful gaze, the Orc unleashed a furious roar.

The Orc’s ear-splitting roar resonated through the air, causing the nearby guards to turn their heads, drawn by the clamor.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

An Elf, whose right eye was visibly festering, approached, a leather whip dangling from his hand, and inquired.

“Someone slipped onto the platform,” the Orc rumbled, its voice a low growl akin to a predatory wolf.

“Someone went up? Then why aren’t you apprehending them at once? Should the Deacon learn of this, we’ll face severe repercussions.”

The Elf’s brow furrowed in a tight knot as he fixed his gaze upon the Orc.

“Hmph, you don’t need to tell me.”

Without another word, the Orc lunged towards the high platform.

Witnessing this, the Elf ceased his remonstrations and immediately gave chase.

The remaining onlookers, the other guards, silently observed the Elf and Orc as they ascended.

It wasn’t that they lacked the inclination to follow; rather, they deemed two individuals more than sufficient. After all, the task merely involved apprehending a single prisoner whose magical energy had been suppressed, requiring minimal manpower—indeed, even two seemed excessive.

With the spectacle concluded, the guards resumed their monotonous rounds, scrutinizing the prisoners for any signs of idleness.

This particular duty was exceedingly monotonous and dull, yet it was undeniably preferable to the prisoners’ plight—mindlessly digging for ore with vacant expressions, uncertain of how long it would take to unearth anything of value.

Mana ore was exceedingly rare, particularly within their designated mining sector. Should they hope to unearth any, it would necessitate at least two or three weeks of relentless excavation, and even then, the chances of finding a single piece remained slim.

****

Perched upon the high platform, Aric gazed down at the Old Man, who lay gasping on the ground, a wave of confusion washing over him.

‘Who is this Old Man?’ he wondered. ‘And why is he sprawled here, covered in blood?’

His mind brimming with unanswered questions, Aric approached the Old Man with a hesitant, cautious gait.

Observing no movement from the prone figure, Aric slowly extended his right hand, reaching towards the Old Man’s nostril.

“Save me…”

Before his fingers could even brush the Old Man’s nostril, the sudden utterance from the seemingly lifeless figure jolted Aric, causing him to recoil a startled step.

With a face etched in wary vigilance, Aric silently observed the Old Man on the ground, who continued to gasp faintly, his mouth slightly agape.

After a silent pause lasting several seconds, and satisfied that the Old Man posed no immediate threat, Aric strode purposefully to his side and crouched down.

“Old Man,” Aric began gently, “is there something you wish to tell me, or perhaps, something you’re trying to say to yourself?”

“Save me,” the Old Man rasped, his voice barely a whisper, “and I will give… give you… a lifetime of unimaginable wealth and glory.”

The Old Man, struggling for breath, his eyes wide and fixed on the sky above, spoke each word distinctly to Aric.

“Wealth and glory?” Aric responded, settling onto the ground beside him. “Forgive me, but I have no need for such things.” He spoke with unvarnished honesty.

Indeed, he harbored no desire for opulence or renown; his sole yearning was to escape this accursed place.

“Then… what… do you desire?” the Old Man pressed, his voice strained. “Tell me… I can grant you anything, provided… provided you… you save me.”

With a trembling left hand, the Old Man clutched Aric’s arm, his eyes dimming with desperation.

“To leave this place,” Aric stated, “is that something you can offer?”

He attempted to gently tug his arm free from the Old Man’s grasp, but finding it impossible, Aric articulated his deepest desire.

“Yes… yes, I can!” the Old Man gasped, his previously dim eyes now alight with renewed vigor. “Just save me, save me!” he repeated, his voice raspy with emotion.

“Emm,” Aric murmured, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. He had utterly forgotten his own predicament: currently, he was incapable of wielding mana, thus unable to cast spells and save the Old Man.

“Quickly, save me!” the Old Man cried out, his voice tinged with desperation. “I can lead you out of this place!” Noticing Aric’s hesitation and keenly aware of his own rapidly ebbing life force, the Old Man shrieked, knowing he could not afford another moment’s delay.

“…Forgive me,” Aric stated after a brief, heavy silence, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I cannot save you; I am unable to use mana.”

“Unable… to use mana?” The Old Man’s eyes, which had briefly sparkled with hope, dulled once more.

‘It seems my death is inevitable,’ he thought, resignation clouding his gaze.

Just then, the Elf, having arrived alongside the Orc, brandished his whip, his gaze falling upon Aric, who sat on the ground beside the dying Old Man. “Hey, boy!” he bellowed. “This isn’t a place for you to trespass. Come with us now, or you’ll face dire consequences!”

The Elf’s booming voice struck Aric’s ears, instantly draining the color from his face.

This time, with an effortless tug, Aric freed his arm from the Old Man’s grip and sprang to his feet.

“Come with us,” the Orc snarled, stretching his wide mouth into a menacing grin that revealed a full set of gleaming fangs.

…

Aric retreated a single, silent step.

His reluctance was palpable, yet he understood he had no choice in the matter.

“Tsk,” the Orc scoffed. “Then we’ll simply beat you into submission and drag you back.”

Uttering another ‘tsk’, the Orc lunged at Aric.

As the Orc charged, Aric instinctively moved to evade, but just as he shifted, the Old Man’s hand clamped onto his calf.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Aric snapped, gritting his teeth as he nearly stumbled.

“Save me!” the Old Man implored, his voice thick with desperation.

“How can I possibly save you?” Aric retorted, frustration mounting. “My mana is suppressed by these wretched shackles… Ah!”

His words were cut short by a sharp cry of pain from Aric.

The Orc’s whip had cracked across Aric’s body, leaving a searing trail.

Clasping his arm, already raw and bleeding from a single whip-lash, Aric’s eyes ignited with a furious glint.

“Hmph, fighting me yet you dare to avert your gaze,” the Orc sneered. “If death is what you seek, just say the word.”

With a guttural growl, the Orc licked the remnants of Aric’s blood from its whip.

“Damn it all…” Aric muttered, his expression darkening considerably.

‘If only I could still wield mana,’ he thought, ‘I wouldn’t be so utterly helpless.’

The moment this thought flickered through his mind, Aric was struck by a startling realization: he… he seemed capable of mobilizing the mana within his own body?!

‘What’s going on?’

Despite his profound bewilderment, Aric swiftly etched a minuscule five-pointed star onto his wounded arm.

A vibrant emerald glow pulsed, and before their eyes, his lacerated arm visibly mended, reverting to its unblemished state as if no injury had ever occurred.

Indeed, had it not been for the tell-tale blood still clinging to the Orc’s whip, the instantaneous healing might have been dismissed as a collective hallucination by Aric and the others.

“You can use mana now, right?”

A frail, aged voice resonated beside him, causing Aric to immediately cast his gaze downwards.

Gazings down at the Old Man’s eyes, now gleaming with a startling, almost reanimated brilliance, Aric grasped the sudden, profound truth.

The ability to wield mana once more, he realized, was almost certainly a direct consequence of this Old Man’s intervention.

With the chain of events now clear in his mind, Aric offered the Old Man a solemn nod.

Witnessing Aric’s affirmation, the Old Man’s lips curved into a faint, relieved smile, as if salvation had finally arrived.

And with that, the light in the Old Man’s eyes began to flicker and fade.

Alarmed by this, Aric hastily crouched, pressing his clasped hands firmly against the Old Man’s chest.

A hexagonal magic array, half a meter in diameter, shimmered into existence on the ground beneath the Old Man. Beneath Aric’s hands, a brilliant emerald light began to emanate, and within its radiant glow, the Old Man’s grievous wounds slowly, steadily began to close.

“Hey, you two!” the Orc roared, its voice laced with fury. “Are you truly so… damn disrespectful as to ignore me completely? Hmph!”

Upon witnessing Aric’s brazen actions, the Orc let out a thunderous roar of indignation.

With that declaration,

The Orc, faint black energy particles crackling around its hands, surged forward with rapid strides, seizing the opportune moment while Aric was fully engrossed in healing the Old Man, and charged directly towards them.

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