The Abandoned Mine on Avela's Outskirts
The air in the mine was thick with the stench of mold, ash, and something more pungent — the reek of rotting human flesh.
Flickering torchlight cast shadows on dried bloodstains and old knife marks on the rocky walls, revealing a group of five or six ragged men, eyes sunken from hunger and exhaustion.
> "Boss… we've been stuck in this damn place for a month now." – a young man spoke, scratching at a patch of festering blisters on his neck.
> "We've dug this mine to death, not even rocks left..."
The boss — a burly man with a scarred face that looked clawed by dogs — spun around, eyes bulging in fury:
> "You're still breathing thanks to who, huh? Should be grateful I haven't tossed you out to feed the wild dogs."
> "Alright, alright..." – the other man recoiled.
A faint scream echoed — like a dying cat.
> "Ah, right..." – one of them licked his lips. "What about the girl?"
> "The whore? She's done." – the boss snorted. "Guess I went too rough. Her guts aren't moving anymore."
> "What a waste. Girls like her should be rationed…"
> "Ration your damn mother. Plenty more outside. We'll grab more on the way back."
From the darkness came a whisper, so faint it was almost already dead:
> "Please… continue with me…"
One of them stepped forward with the torch, illuminating a naked, broken female body chained to a stone pillar with rusted iron. She was no longer human — but something crushed. Skin torn in patches, burns, fingernails snapped to the flesh, lips swollen and mangled.
> "She's wrecked. We'll need a new one soon." – he chuckled.
> "Keep digging." – the boss ordered, licking his lips. "I'll finish off this bitch."
---
The sound of metal clanging against stone echoed through the mine. Sweat, blood, and even piss seeped into the cold earth.
> "Hope we find some ore. If not, we'll starve to death..." – one panted.
Just then, a shout:
> "Hey! Over here! Look at this!"
They rushed over, torches raised. A small cavern had appeared behind a crumbling rock face — inside shimmered a strange silvery light.
> "Ore… Miriter Ore!" – one of them gasped. "Formed from condensed mana… ultra rare…"
> "That whole wall… it's packed full!" – another hissed.
Their eyes gleamed red like starving dogs spotting a corpse.
> "Do you know what this is worth?" – the boss whispered, eyes unblinking. "We'll never have to beg or sniff shit again…"
> "Dig it out! Dig it all!!"
> "Wait." – the boss raised a hand. "Let's go deeper first. There might be dragon bones or demon remains — worth a hundred times more."
---
The deeper they went, the more the light distorted — and the air thickened, as if they were wading through coagulated blood.
Then they stopped.
A massive chunk of Miriter ore blocked the path, as big as a carriage. But what stole their breath… was what lay inside.
> "Boss… look..."
Within the translucent purple ore, there was a human body.
Completely naked, unmoving.
Skin as white as bone dust, hair flowing like black ink. No signs of decay, but no signs of life either.
> "Is that… a real person?" – one trembled. "Why isn't he dead?"
> "A… sealing spell?" – someone versed in magic whispered.
The boss stared at the figure inside the ore — he was… smiling.
> "I swear… I saw it smile…" – one of them gasped.
> "Don't talk crazy. You've been reading too many ghost stories…"
> "No, I swear—"
> CRACK!!!
A sharp cracking sound echoed. No one touched anything. No one moved.
The ore cracked on its own, shards dropping like eggshells to the ground.
Then blood began to flow in reverse — from the bandits' old wounds, from their mouths, their eyes, their ears — gathering around the ore as if part of some unnamed blood ritual.
One of them screamed. But too late.
A violet light flashed from the hollow eyes inside the ore.
A naked man stood amidst the shattered Miriter ore, dim light from the falling shards forming a grim halo around his body. His skin glowed pale, flawless and unwrinkled — as if freshly born from the rotting earth itself.
The bandits stood frozen. Not from awe — but the instinctual paralysis of prey facing a predator opening its eyes.
One stepped forward, threw an arm around the man:
> "Hey buddy… I don't know who you are, but showing up in front of us butt-naked like this is a bit much. So… die."
He pressed a blade to the man's neck — and slashed cleanly.
Blood gushed like a stream — but not from the man.
From himself.
He collapsed, throat slit, eyes wide in horror, not understanding what had happened. In his final moment, he saw the knife in his own hand… yet the wound was on his own neck.
> "No… impossible..."
He died not knowing how he died.
The rest panicked, backing away.
> "Everyone! Formation! Defend!" – the boss shouted.
Four men braced themselves, blood trailing down their arms as their hands trembled gripping their weapons.
The boss roared:
> "What the hell are you?!"
The man raised his head, his eyes devoid of pupils — just a dull ash-gray, like a dead sky.
> "Lioren."
A single name echoed through the blood-soaked air.
> "Attack!" – the boss screamed.
All four lunged — like starving dogs at prey.
A spear pierced Lioren's heart. A sword slashed across his neck. A dagger split his back. One leapt high and sliced at his head.
Blood splattered the cavern.
But…
They were the ones who fell.
The spearman dropped, a hole the size of a fist in his chest. The swordsman split in half from belly to jaw. The one with the dagger was chopped into pieces. And the one who aimed for the head — it was his head that rolled on the stone floor.
Lioren still stood. Unmoving. No blood. No wounds. No expression.
Only silence — the kind that crushes the soul.
After a moment, he looked around the cave — his gaze still dull like a godless sky.
> "Seems… I've slept for too long."
The shards of Miriter began to glow.
All around the mine, violet light seeped from the walls — gathering around him, like millions of glowing insects returning to their nest.
Each speck of light wove into fabric.
A pitch-black garment formed, clinging to his body — not sewn, not spun, not made of silk, but shaped from condensed magic.
His hair shortened, shifting from ash-white to deep, charred black. His muscles didn't bulge — but his presence grew unbearable to behold.
No one dared look too long.