The first step into the cave felt like crossing a threshold into another world
The air changed. It wasn't just colder—it was heavier, like it had weight. Mana clung to the skin like damp ash, thick and unclean. The light from the surface barely reached a few feet past the mouth of the cave before the gloom swallowed it whole.
Torches were handed out. Dim, rune-etched rods that sputtered with pale-blue fire. Even their flames seemed nervous to be here.
The guards led the line forward, deeper and deeper into the stone throat of the earth. The path sloped down sharply, wide enough for two carriages side by side. Ancient carvings marked the walls—sigils from a long-dead civilization, half-erased by time and rot.
He walked near the center of the line, silent, torch in hand. Every few steps, he tilted his head—listening.
Not for sounds.
For something else.
A feeling.
A whisper.
A pull.
Behind him, the other slaves trudged with lifeless eyes, chains rattling like dry bones. A few wept quietly. One stumbled and was beaten until he crawled. No one helped him.
Above them, the noble's voice echoed faintly from the surface. "Make sure they're inside before sealing the ward. We don't want the mana escaping while it's still unstable."
The magic in the air was old. Angry. The deeper they went, the more it burned in the lungs, like breathing in wet smoke and crushed stone. The torches began to flicker strangely, casting long, twitching shadows.
The first step into the cave felt like crossing a threshold into another Then the stairway ended.
They had reached floor 50 finally.
A vast chamber opened before them. The ceiling arched high, riddled with glowing veins of mana stone—blue, purple, some even crimson. Strange fungal growths clung to the walls, pulsing faintly like hearts. The ground was uneven, split by cracks and pits where light dared not reach.
This was not mine.
This was a graveyard waiting to happen.
The guards started barking orders, splitting the slaves into groups. Tools were handed out. The sound of picks hitting stone began almost immediately.
But he… he didn't move right away.
"You," he snarled, pointing his whip. "You're moving too slow, beast. Pick up the pace."
Azrael looked at him. Slowly. Deliberately.
Then he smirked.
"Your breath stinks."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Silence.
The guard's eye twitched. His face twisted into something between confusion and fury, like he couldn't believe a slave—a beastborn—had just disrespected him.
"What… Did you just say to me?"
Azrael's smirk deepened, his hands sliding casually into his ragged pockets.
"I said your breath stinks. Like moldy bread and dead rats." He tilted his head, pretending to think. "Actually… that's probably an insult to dead rats."
A heartbeat passed.
Then the guard lunged.
The whip cracked—sharp and violent—biting into Azrael's ribs, wrapping around his torso like a serpent. He grunted as the force yanked him off his feet, slamming him hard into the stone wall.
"FILTHY BEAST!" The guard roared, his face flushed red with rage. "You think you can mock me?!"
Azrael coughed, tasting blood in his mouth—but still, he laughed.
A low, broken sound, raw with defiance.
The other guards stepped forward, some amused, others disgusted.
"Throw him in solitary," one barked. "Let him rot for a few days. Strip him of his rations."
"Solitary?" The whip guard sneered. "Tch. You got lucky, beast."
Azrael met his gaze. Unblinking. Smiling.
"Yeah, I guess I did."
The solitary cell was more like a hole carved into the dungeon itself. Cramped. Wet. Cold. The walls dripped with condensation, and the air stank of mildew and rusted iron.
They shoved him in and slammed the iron grate shut with a deafening clang.
Darkness swallowed him.
No torches. No light. No sound but his own ragged breathing and the slow drip, drip, drip of water.
He leaned his head against the wall, his body aching from the blow.
For a while… he just sat there. Listening to the silence.
Then a familiar chime echoed in his skull.
Bing
System Notification
[Daily quest: body tempering ]
[100 push ups ]
[100 sit ups ]
Reward: one stat point
What are you?
[To. Know everything you must first complete the quest Become a Successor]
I fell silent, heart pounding.
Then my eyes fell on [Clan].
"…What's this?"
[The Clan function reflects Solomon's bond with his chosen. You may create your own. Their growth will mirror yours. Their loyalty is absolute.]
"And the soulmates?"
[Individuals with deep resonance. You will know them when the time is right.]
I leaned my head back against the wall, breathing slow. The cell was quiet, but my mind wasn't.