The two knights stood like statues before Morder's cell, their presence cold and absolute.
Morder leaned his head back against the damp stone, his eyes closed, speaking in a voice heavy with feigned indifference.
"Sorry… but I'm going to need a short break, if you please."
The knight gripped the iron bars, his gauntlet shrieking against the metal.
"The only rest you'll find is in Hell if you don't get up."
Morder cracked a single eye open and spoke calmly.
"Make me."
In a flicker of movement, the knight vanished and reappeared inside the cell without even unlatching the door.
He stood over Morder, tilting his helmeted head as if puzzled.
"Hmm. Something is wrong here."
Morder opened both eyes. He could feel the knight had sensed the shift.
'He noticed it,' Morder thought grimly.
"Your wounds… the blood that was painting your skin… it's gone. As if it never existed. Suspicious."
Morder remained silent, offering no explanation.
"No justification? Are you trying to play the hero in this pigsty?!"
The youth remained still, his crimson lips unmoving.
In a flash, the knight seized him by the collar, hoisting him off the ground.
Through the visor, eyes burned with a predatory, crimson light.
"Remember this well: you are nothing but a dweller from the Far Lands. To us, your kind are merely slaves to these territories."
The knight leaned in, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper against Morder's ear.
"So drop the defiance, and submit to our orders."
The words hit like a wooden sword—they didn't draw blood, but they left a dull, aching bruise on the soul.
For a fleeting second, despair flickered in Morder's mind, but he shook it off.
With a casual flick of his wrist, the knight gestured toward the cell door.
The iron bars liquefied into dark water and sank into the earth.
Then, he hurled Morder out of the cell, sending him tumbling until he slammed into the cage behind him.
Morder rubbed the back of his head, looking at the two knights with a sarcastic smirk.
"Try to be a little gentler next time."
As he moved to stand, a hand shot through the bars behind him, grabbing his arm.
A prisoner leaned out, his touch frantic and intrusive.
"You're a beauty… I can't believe you're a boy."
Fury surged through Morder.
He grabbed the prisoner's wrist and snapped the bone with a sickening pop.
Before the man could recoil, Morder slammed his head against the iron bars and drove his fingers into the man's eyes.
The prisoner's screams tore through the corridor as blood sprayed across the floor.
Morder stood there, chest heaving with unbridled rage.
"Son of a bitch."
The two knights stood right behind him.
Morder glanced back at them.
"Is self-defense forbidden here too?"
The knight didn't answer.
Instead, he pulled out a black blindfold and tied it tightly around Morder's eyes.
Then, a rough shove sent him stumbling forward into the unknown.
The knights ignored the wailing prisoner, leaving him to drown in his own blood.
Morder was led through a labyrinth—left, right, and straight for what felt like miles.
He could feel the air grow damp, but he couldn't see where he was going.
'Clever movement. They put this blindfold on so I can't map the prison.'
He exhaled deeply.
'Is there anyone who can actually escape this place? If not, then I must be the first.'
After five minutes of walking, the boredom became too much.
"Do you have any water? I haven't had a drop since I arrived in the Brooken Lands."
A knight grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against a wall.
"Do your job, and then you'll get something to eat."
"No water, no energy to work," Morder countered.
"And without a head, you can't live. Now do the damn work and shut up."
'Don't worry. When I get out of here, I'll make you drink your own blood.'
Seconds later, Morder's feet hit uneven, jagged ground.
The knight ripped the blindfold off and burned it away with a flicker of magic.
Morder blinked, his vision slowly adjusting to a sight that left him breathless.
They stood before mountains of diamonds.
The ground, the peaks—everything was composed of shimmering, raw gems.
Above them, the sky was a void of absolute black, the only light coming from an unknown source.
'A single piece of this could buy a life of luxury.'
The knights shoved him toward a massive gathering of prisoners.
At the front, a mysterious figure stood on a slightly elevated wooden platform.
The two knights vanished like mist, reappearing beside the man.
"It seems all the pigs are here. Good," the man said, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
He wore a black leather coat adorned with many medals.
One of his sleeves hung empty—he had only one arm.
Long black hair obscured his eyes.
"This is your first day. We have already executed a great number of slaves because we have no desire for the prisons to overflow; massive numbers are crawling toward the kingdom every day, so a shortage is not a concern."
He stepped down, moving into the center of the crowd.
"You all have one objective: you must level these mountains into flat ground. Two men to a mountain."
He stopped in front of a trembling prisoner, his eyes glowing a lethal crimson.
"No rest. No sleep. No food until the work is done. Anyone who breaks these rules will share the fate of this man."
Without warning, the man grabbed the prisoner's head and crushed it.
An explosion of gore sprayed over the surrounding slaves and the diamond-crusted earth.
"Now… get to work."
Morder hoisted the pickaxe onto his shoulder and treaded toward the mountain of diamonds.
Before he could strike his first blow, he was joined by another prisoner—a man whose features dripped with deceit and suspicion.
Morder had a knack for reading people through their expressions and subtle shifts in behavior.
This man was restless, his eyes darting incessantly across the horizon.
Ignoring the stranger, Morder swung the pickaxe with all his might.
The impact carved a surprisingly large crater into the gems, leaving him momentarily stunned.
'I don't want to be a fool, but it seems my strength has surged since that magic parchment appeared. My entire body feels… different,' Morder muttered to himself.
He resumed his labor, his thoughts racing.
'I must exploit this power and refine it. I need a way out of this gods-forsaken pit… but I don't even know where to start.'
While he was lost in thought, striking the diamonds with rhythmic precision, the stranger leaned in and spoke in a low, hushed tone.
"Hey, kid."
Morder didn't look at him or grant him any acknowledgement, yet the man persisted.
"You look strong. To shatter diamonds as if they were cheap pebbles… only a few can manage that. What do you say we share a plan to get out of here?"
Suddenly, a knight manifested from the void, standing over the man.
He seized the prisoner's head with a crushing grip, causing sweat to pour down the man's face in terror.
"No talking, or I'll pop your skull. Get back to your damn work."
The knight vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
The prisoner exhaled sharply and returned to his task.
"By the way, I'm Lucas. And you?"
"…"
"Seems you aren't interested in escaping… I only wish I could see the corridors that lead out of this place."
Morder froze, the pickaxe hovering in mid-air.
It was as if he had found the missing piece of a puzzle—the very thing that would lead to his freedom.
'See the corridors… right. I was dragged here from the cell, but it felt like I emerged from nothingness. There has to be a way to see through that blindfold.'
He stared intensely at the diamonds.
A smile slowly crept across his lips—a jagged, sinister grin that lacked any shred of humanity. It was the smile of a devil.
His eyes scanned the perimeter until he noticed an open gate guarded by a single knight, leading deep into the earth.
'The threads are beginning to connect. But let's save the execution for tomorrow,' Morder thought, rubbing his chin.
After hours of grueling labor, the tolling of a cathedral bell echoed through the cavern.
The sound was incredibly close, vibrating from somewhere beneath the ground.
A knight announced the end of the ten-hour shift.
Every prisoner in the vicinity collapsed in exhaustion; even Morder felt his hands trembling from the strain.
'Just a few more hours, and I'll be finished with this filthy place.'
The guards moved in, forcing blindfolds onto every slave before leading them back to their cells.
After five minutes of walking, the cloth was ripped from Morder's face.
He stood once again before his iron cage.
Before he could process his surroundings, he was shoved violently inside, his body slamming against the stone wall.
The knight glared at him with a cruel expression.
"Your death is coming soon. Hard work won't save you."
Morder leaned back against the cold wall, wiping his mouth with a smirk.
"Doesn't matter. The real question is, when do I get my meal?"
The knight began to lock the gate, but before turning to leave, he spoke one last time.
"It'll be a special meal… since you murdered a fellow slave."
Morder looked toward the cell directly across from his.
There, a prisoner's severed head was skewered onto the iron bars, while his lifeless body lay slumped on the floor.
Morder stared at the gruesome sight.
He wasn't shocked or repulsed; to him, it felt entirely natural. The death of a person or two meant nothing as long as he was still drawing breath.
"What a spectacular way to go. If you were a piece of filth, don't imagine everyone else is like you."
Morder placed his hand over his neck, feeling the mark thrumming with a heat that hungered for blood.
"I can't wait for tomorrow," he whispered.