Hours passed. The rhythm of it had become familiar by now.
Every forty five minutes an overseer would make their rounds through the tunnels, which meant the window for each session was thirty minutes at most. The remaining fifteen minutes were spent back at the rock face, picks in hand, making sure there was enough freshly broken ore on the ground to satisfy whatever overseer came through without getting suspicious.
In those thirty minutes, Zeno continued to pour mana into Oryn's heart, where the mana core resided.
At first, Zeno assumed it would take several sessions for Oryn to at least get a feel for mana. But to both of their surprise, it took only one.
Oryn convinced himself it was a perk of his transmigration, or maybe because he already knew how the basic inner working of mana. From his game knowledge, especially the academy arcs, he had been exposed to surprisingly detailed convos with npc teacher regarding mana.
In this world the heart was different for some, a few were born with a special type capable of storing and refining mana. It was one of the key ways nobles distinguished themselves from commoners. If a family possessed even one member with a mana core, they were considered middle commoners. Those whose ancestral lineage lacked one were deemed lesser commoners.
To rise further, into high commoner status, a member had to become a certified mage. That title granted official recognition and documents issued by the Arcane Tower in each kingdom, the central authority governing mages and magical education.
From what the system showed, Oryn definitely had a mana core, but it still wasn't activated. It was a white one, the base core.
Since Oryn didn't know how to sense mana yet, he couldn't gather it into his heart on his own, so Zeno had to guide and supply it for him.
Their goal was simple: survive the side quest.
For that, Oryn needed to grow stronger, even if only by a slight margin.
Both the prince and Zeno had their cores shattered after being overclocked. When Oryn asked how it happened, Zeno didn't answer.
It was clearly a sensitive topic.
Oryn glanced at Rhyno who was sweating through his shirt. Rhyno once again proved he wasn't as timid as his appearance let on. He had pushed himself hard enough for the both of them that no overseer would find reason to look twice.
Oryn realized his memory of Ryno hadn't been wrong.
But the confirmation of what kind of character Rhyno actually was, pulled from what he knew of the game, wasn't a comfortable recollection.
If anything it made him uneasy.
Oryns thought was cut short by a hoarse voice, infront of him a hunched figure appeared, taller than even zeno. Its parchment-yellow skin stretched over a powerful frame. Its skull seems fused into its upper chest, forcing its head to jut forward as its spine curls into a permanent hunch. Dark, sunken eyes with pale white pupils, and jagged teeth twist into a feral snarl.
"Fifteen... R - riva." The creature struggled to finish the word, its head jerking sideways with the effort. "Rivas need quota."
Oryn winced at the sight. He wanted to curse at how the overseer looked. If he had to compare it to anything he knew, it was closer to a goblin, but far larger. Wrong in ways he couldn't quite explain.
Zeno replied, "Understood."
For a while, it stood still, its deep, dark eyes staring into the distance where the ore was piled. Unblinking. Unmoving.
Then, without warning, its face snapped toward him.
Goosebumps crawled across Oryn's skin.
He dropped his gaze instantly, hands trembling. He didn't dare look it in the eye. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating.
The sound of steps grew nearer. Slow. Heavy.
Zeno was saying something, but the words blurred together. Oryn couldn't process them. Couldn't move.
Fuck. Why am I so scared?
I've watched The Nun, The Conjuring, The Shining, Hereditary.I fucking love horror.
So why—
His breath hitched. Sweat formed along his neck.
Fuck. Fuckkk.
The steps stopped.
Silence.
If before the torchlight barely held back the darkness of the tunnel, now it felt like the creature swallowed it whole. The shadows bent toward it, its huge frame casting over Oryn—
And then it was in front of him.
No sound. No warning.
Oryn's eyes widened.
Rot.
The stench hit first. Hot, damp, foul. Its face was inches away, jagged teeth bared, uneven and stained. He could feel its breath against his skin, thick and suffocating.
His body locked.
Don't move. Don't react. Don't—
The creature didn't attack.
It just stared.
Then, slowly, it pulled back.
"Mana… mana sense inside… h-how?"
Zeno cursed inwardly.These beasts can sense mana? Crap.
What should we do?
No. Stay calm.
Your priority is the young prince.
If the worst happens, feign ignorance.
Zeno, the tempered knight, set his priorities straight, forcing his thoughts into order within seconds.
But his worry proved unnecessary.
Oryn swallowed, forcing his voice steady despite the tremor.
"You must be mistaken… from the large amount of broken mana ore. It might be confusing you. Since I don't have a mana core, it's impossible for me to store mana."
He took a slow breath.
"They already separated those with cores and those without at the beginning. I've been here for two months."
The demon's expression didn't change.
But its eyes shifted away, as if considering his words.
From what Oryn could tell, its species was Dulvar.
Not something a single human, one who didn't even know magic yet, could take on.
But its intelligence…
Wasn't the highest.
Overseers, as the name suggested, were demons tasked with keeping the slaves in line. Even among overseers there were divisions. Labour drivers and night watch.
The labour drivers were the loswest rank responsible for managing the miners, ensuring quota was met and that no one was doing anything other than exactly what they were supposed to be doing.
The Dulvar gave a slow nod.
Then it turned and walked away.
Oryn let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His shoulders sagged as relief washed over him. He turned to Zeno with a tired, crooked smile.
Zeno didn't return it.
He simply closed his eyes, drawing in a slow, exhausted breath of his own.
But Rhyno…
Was too calm.
Oryn frowned slightly.
He's slipping up.
Rhyno's face remained still for a moment longer.
Then it twisted.
His eyes dilated sharply.
"Behind yo—!"
The warning didn't need to finish.
Oryn understood.
He turned.
0.1 seconds : I'm dead I'm actually dead no no I'm dead I'm going to die I'm dead I'm so dead shit I'm dead I'm done I'm dead this is it I'm dead I'm actually going to die I'm dead
The Dulvar was already there.
Its torso bent unnaturally forward, spine curving as if unhinged. Its jaws were stretched wide, far beyond anything natural, enough to swallow three of Oryn's heads whole.
0.5 seconds : Fuckkkkk fuck no no fuck I'm dead fuck I'm so fucking dead fuck—
The stench hit him first. Rotting flesh. Wet decay.
He could see inside it.
Strings of saliva stretched between rows of teeth. The outer set was long and jagged, built for tearing. Behind them, a second row sat thicker, flatter, interlocking like grinding plates, meant to crush and break bone before swallowing.
The throat pulsed, muscular, expanding in anticipation.
A predator built not just to kill—
But to consume completely.
I'm dead. Dead.
0.8 seconds :"Oh!"
The jaws slammed shut.
A crack like stone snapping echoed through the tunnel. The force sent a burst of dust and loose debris exploding outward, fogging the air and swallowing everything in a choking haze.
"Oryn!" Zeno screamed.
For a second, even he seemed shocked at himself. Losing an ally wasn't something unfamiliar to him.
Then why—?
Zeno answered himself instanlty. Maybe… because he's still a kid.
Drip.
The smoke began to clear. Blood splashed across the dirt surface, dark and wet.
Through the thinning haze, the outline of a pair of legs became visible.
"Dangling… not fallen?" Rhyno muttered, eyes narrowing.
He didn't scream.
He observed.
Soon a wary smile slowly etched across his face.
"An interesting turn of events."
The dust settled.
And what emerged wasn't what they expected.
There was no torn body. No scattered entrails.
Instead a figure dangled above the foor.
Shiny armor painted with fresh blood covered the lower half of the body, unmoving. The Dulvar's jagged teeth had pierced into the chest plate, biting through the grey cape draped over the back.
Blood seeped through the metal, dark lines spreading across its surface.
But the body…
Was still unbroken.
A sudden, piercing scream engulfed the tunnel, echoing violently off the walls before vanishing just as quickly as it came.
"DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE—!!"
The Dulvar's footing gave out. Its massive frame lurched forward, collapsing heavily toward its left side.
Another scream followed, this one sharper, but less loud. More controlled. More focused.
Zeno's eyes widened.
A sword was lodged straight through the Dulvar's head.
"Where did that come from—?"
The blade yanked free.
Then struck again.
And again.
And again.
A frenzy.
Each thrust faster than the last, wet impacts punctuated by dull cracks as steel tore through bone and muscle. Dark blood sprayed with every hit, splattering across the ground.
Few drops of it even reaching the walls.
The Dulvar twitched violently as it clenched its jaw tighter, its limbs jerking in broken, dying spasms.
But the assault didn't stop.
It kept going.
Relentless.
Unhinged.
Zeno reacted instantly, rushing forward and grabbing the Dulvar's upper jaw, forcing its mouth open with brute strength. The hinges resisted with a sick grinding strain before giving way just enough.
Inside, Oryn was still moving, still stabbing.
The sword drove upward again and again from within the skull, each thrust punching through soft tissue, scraping bone, bursting through what remained of the brain. Wet, choking sounds filled the air.
"DIE DIE DIE!!"
Zeno reached in and grabbed the blood-slick armor. "Oryn, stop!"
But Oryn didn't respond. He thrashed, dragging the blade free only to plunge it back in blindly.
"LET ME GO I'M KILLING THIS BASTARD LEAVE ME LET ME GOO!!"
Blood poured out around him, thick and dark, mixed with pale grey matter clinging to his hands, arms, and face. It dripped from his chin in warm, sticky strands.
Zeno tightened his grip and yanked hard. This time, Oryn slipped free.
He collapsed onto the ground with a wet thud, the sword falling from his hand. For a moment, he just sat there, breathing, shaking, covered.
His entire face was smeared with it. Blood soaked through his hair, clotted along his jaw. Bits of brain matter stuck to his cheek and lips, caught between his fingers, something soft sliding down from his temple.
He looked at his hands, then at the corpse.
The smell hit him. Rot, iron, something sour and wrong.
His stomach twisted violently and he vomited, hard. It spilled out in heaving bursts onto the dirt, mixing with blood and gore into something unrecognizable. He gagged and coughed, his body trying to purge everything at once.
Even when nothing was left, he kept retching.