After returning home, Kaelxi meticulously scrubbed the silver coin the mine overseer had given her.
Once spotless, she tossed it into the small wooden box beneath her bed.
The box overflowed with over seventy silver coins—six months of her relentless effort.
Most merchants carried little cash, and adventurers’ coin purses were rarely stealable.
Nearly all these coins came from "entry fees."
Today, Kaelxi had eyed Witt’s gold coin—the first time she’d seen such a large denomination. No wonder she’d gotten carried away.
Given another chance, she’d likely have walked away.
Better for both her and Witt.
But now, Witt was gone. Her quiet life had returned.
Kaelxi pulled out Witt’s wallet, dumping its contents into the box. Three gold coins gleamed among the silver.
Unlike others, this was probably Witt’s entire fortune.
A boy starved of love, who’d mustered courage to leave home, built savings... only to be swindled by a cruel woman, beaten mercilessly, and thrown into the mines.
It was brutal by any measure.
Curled on her bed with a pillow hugged to her chest, Kaelxi felt a pang for Witt.
That poor boy had screamed her name even as the overseer dragged him away. To her, Witt knew nothing.
Perhaps right now, icy water was being poured over him while a chili-laced whip lashed his skin.
Mine owners broke slaves this way—through inhuman torture until all defiance bled out.
An image flashed in Kaelxi’s mind: Witt, scarred and hollow-eyed.
*What a terrible person I am.*
*No. Not just a terrible woman—a terrible human.*
*"Why dwell on it? Enough. I’ll just rescue him tomorrow!"*
She buried her face in the pillow and drifted into a muffled sleep.
Dragged by the overseer, Witt replayed his conversation with Kaelxi.
Fragments echoed in his skull:
*"Worse than death." "Taste." "Enjoy." "Tribute." "Leverage."*
He remembered Kaelxi flinching from pain, her radiant smile that could melt glaciers, her kindness to beggars—angelic, like Sunblast itself.
Then he recalled her frenzied insults, her blows, and her final whisper in his ear:
*"I don’t hate you."*
*"But I’ll never love a man."*
A terrifying suspicion took root—the truth he dreaded most.
He had to know.
His arm twitched back to life. Gritting his teeth, he yanked the overseer’s trouser leg.
The man turned, yellow teeth splitting into a grin.
"Awake already? Strong lad. Better than those beggars."
"Thought I’d need a whip to rouse you."
Witt ignored him, gripping the fabric tighter. He forced his voice steady: "How well do you know her?"
"Her? Old acquaintance." The overseer was in high spirits—this sturdy new slave would earn him praise.
"But he’s nothing compared to us. Just the boss’s lapdog."
He didn’t mind chatting.
"I see..."
Hearing Kaelxi insulted confirmed Witt’s suspicion.
Veins throbbed at his temples. He twisted his body, trying to topple the overseer with his weight.
The man stumbled, his good mood shattering.
As he cursed and raised a fist, his eyes caught the tear in Witt’s trousers—and the strange marks beneath.
Recalling the slaver’s taste for boys, the overseer laughed.
"Ah! So you two were *involved*?"
"Perverts. How’d you even stand it?"
Witt misunderstood. He thought the man slandered Kaelxi.
"Shut your mouth!" he roared.
His legs found strength. He lurched upright, trembling.
The overseer clapped, amused. "Guessed right! Most just play with him for novelty. He’s used goods."
"You’re actually serious about him?"
"Bet you don’t know—he’s had over a dozen boyfriends."
"Laughable. Worth it for trash like that?"
The overseer spoke truth—some mine bosses shared the slaver’s tastes.
But to Witt, "novelty" meant Kaelxi’s Elf heritage. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head in agony.
*Unthinkable. She’d been defiled by dozens.*
Now he understood.
Kaelxi was forced to lure victims into the mines. Refusal meant beatings, humiliation... worse.
Her leverage? Only Granny Alisha, the old woman she cherished.
Witt pieced it together.
Years of violence had made her despise men. That’s why she’d never marry.
Or perhaps she believed her broken self unworthy of him.
Witt’s breath hitched.
His rushed confession must have terrified her. No wonder she’d lashed out.
Any anger he’d felt when she slapped him now twisted into white-hot fury—not at her, but at the entire mine.
He’d vowed to protect Kaelxi forever. He’d keep that promise.
Even if her body bore scars, her soul remained pure.
Witt’s eyes snapped open, blazing. "You will NOT insult her!"
The overseer sneered, pressing his forehead against Witt’s.
"I’m Blackiron Rank. Think before you speak, boy."
"Only your strong back saves you. Another word, and I’d kill you."
"Now I’ll tell you how he looked last time he serviced seven men—barely human—"
***CRACK!***
Witt’s head slammed into the overseer’s brow.
He straddled the man’s torso, bound hands useless. So he drove his skull down again and again.
***CRACK!*** "I—"
***CRACK!*** "—WON’T—"
***CRACK!*** "—LET—"
***CRACK!*** "—YOU—"
***CRACK!*** "—INSULT HER!!!"
The overseer’s head throbbed, vision blurring. Words couldn’t justify this rage.
"Sorry... I shouldn’t—"
***CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!***
Silence.
Blood soaked Witt’s tunic. He burned through his ropes with a fireball, fury blazing brighter than the flames.
He raced toward the mines. Behind him lay the overseer’s corpse—skull caved in, blood pooling over shattered tiles.
