The stone siren tore through the damp morning air, its sound no longer just a call to labor, but a marker of a new phase. The "special treatment" was over. At least, that's what it seemed.
I was herded with dozens of other slaves towards the main mining tunnel. The stares directed at me were a complex mix. Fear from the "Stone-Eater" incident, curiosity about my time with Overseer Yan, and the usual primal hostility. But no one dared to approach or mock me openly. I had become an untouchable, a dangerous variable in their miserable equation.
Borok, as the foreman, divided the tasks with his usual growls. When his eyes met mine, there was no more mockery, only a cold, calculating caution. He pointed to a new excavation area at the far end of the tunnel.
"You. Wa Lang. Work there. Your task is simple: dig. But remember," he lowered his voice, "Yan might be watching, but rocks don't have eyes. Accidents happen every day."
The threat was clear. Overseer Yan's protection had limits. In the chaotic darkness of the mine, a "falling rock" could easily solve Borok's problem.
I just nodded, gripping my pickaxe tightly. The "Seed" in my stomach was quiet after the Soul Mist ordeal, but I could feel its latent presence, like a sleeping predator. The energy from the Darkmoon Cap had been depleted, and the familiar hunger was beginning to creep back, though weaker and more manageable than before.
I walked to my assigned area, a narrow tunnel with a low ceiling. The air was thick with dust and the smell of crushed rock. The sounds of pickaxes and grunts of other slaves echoed from various directions.
Observe, Yan had said. Observe the energy flows.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to feel beyond the physical. I focused on the "Seed," using its sensitivity as a radar.
At first, there was nothing. Just the dull ache of hunger and the fatigue of my body.
Then, slowly, I began to feel it.
The mine was not dead. It was alive with energy. Not the vibrant life of a forest, but a slow, grinding, geological pulse. It came from the Spirit Ore veins, faint and dispersed, a dull, chaotic hum. It came from the Nirnroot roots, a colder, more insidious whisper that seemed to suck the vitality from the air around them. And there were other things... faint traces, like the cold whisper of the Darkmoon Cap, coming from deep within uncharted crevices.
It was a symphony of power, all of it tainted, chaotic, or predatory.
And my "Seed" was the conductor, silently sensing every note.
I opened my eyes and began to work. Each swing of my pickaxe was no longer just a physical action. I tried to sync my movements with the energy flows I felt. When I hit a spot that resonated with a stronger Spirit Ore pulse, I focused, letting a tiny trickle of that chaotic energy flow into me, just enough to quiet the hunger, not to trigger a frenzy.
It was exhausting. Mentally draining. Splitting my focus between physical labor and delicate energy manipulation was like trying to solve a complex math problem while running a marathon.
But it worked.
The gnawing hunger remained at a manageable level. I didn't need to desperately search for Spirit Ore rations or risk eating unknown fungi. I was learning to "graze" on the ambient energy of the mine itself.
A slave working near me, a gaunt man with a perpetual cough, glanced at me strangely.
"You... you're not even sweating," he croaked.
I realized he was right. While the others were drenched in sweat, their breath labored, I was merely warm. The subtle, continuous energy intake was not only curbing my hunger but also supplementing my physical stamina.
I didn't answer him. I just kept working, my senses stretched out, mapping the invisible topography of power around me.
I noticed something else. The energy flows were not static. They shifted, sometimes converging, sometimes diverging. I saw a Nirnroot root slowly extending towards a area where a slave had just died of exhaustion, as if drawn to the fading embers of his life force. I felt a weak Spirit Ore vein suddenly pulse stronger after a small rockslide, as if the geological stress had concentrated its energy.
This was what Yan wanted. A living map of the mine's energy network. But why? For more efficient mining? Or for something else?
My thoughts were interrupted by a commotion further down the tunnel.
A scream. Not of pain, but of terror.
"Wall! The wall is moving!"
I dropped my pickaxe and ran towards the sound, along with several other slaves and Borok, who came swearing.
In a side tunnel, a group of slaves was backing away in panic from the rock face. The stone itself seemed to be... breathing. It bulged and receded slowly, rhythmically. A low, grinding hum filled the air. From the cracks in the rock, a faint, phosphorescent green liquid seeped out, dripping onto the floor and sizzling, eating into the stone.
"Damn it! Earth Vein Tremor!" Borok cursed, his face pale. "Back! Everyone back!"
An Earth Vein Tremor. I had heard the whispers. It was a phenomenon where the chaotic spiritual energy in the mine coalesced and mutated, causing localized geological instability and birthing... things. Toxic sludge, corrosive gases, and sometimes, semi-conscious elemental entities made of rock and poison.
The bulging in the rock face intensified. A shape began to form. A crude face, with empty sockets oozing green liquid, and a maw opening, releasing a cloud of toxic vapor.
The slaves screamed and scrambled back.
Borok drew a heavy club from his belt, but he looked hesitant. Ordinary weapons were useless against these things.
The elemental creature, a mass of shifting rock and glowing poison, pulled itself partially out of the wall. It was the size of a large man, and its mere presence made the air thick and difficult to breathe.
My "Seed" reacted violently.
Not with fear, like towards the Soul Mist. But with a sharp, aggressive hunger.
This thing... this coalescence of toxic geological energy... was food. Prime food.
The creature turned its empty sockets towards the nearest fleeing slave. A tentacle of rock and green slime shot out, aiming for the man's back.
Without thinking, I moved.
I wasn't faster than the tentacle, but I was closer. I jumped in front of the slave, my pickaxe raised.
The tentacle hit my pickaxe. The force was tremendous, numbing my arms. The toxic green slime splashed, sizzling on my clothes and skin. A burning pain spread, but it was familiar. It was the same poison from the Toxic Tunnel.
And my "Seed" knew what to do.
As the pain flared, the "Seed" in my stomach roared to life. It didn't just absorb the poison; it devoured it. The burning sensation was sucked away, transformed into a surge of raw, violent power that coursed through my veins. The green slime on my skin lost its glow, turning into inert black mud.
The elemental creature recoiled, as if shocked. Its empty sockets seemed to focus on me. It sensed a predator.
I stood my ground, my pickaxe still held high. My body thrummed with energy. The hunger was gone, replaced by a fierce, intoxicating fullness. My vision sharpened. I could see the flows of energy within the creature—a chaotic, swirling core of green and gray light.
"Wa Lang! Get back, you fool!" Borok shouted, but there was a note of disbelief in his voice.
I ignored him. I took a step forward.
The creature hissed, a sound of grinding rocks, and lashed out with two more tentacles.
This time, I was ready. I didn't block. I dodged, my movements fueled by the energy I had just absorbed. I was faster, more agile than I had ever been. I swung my pickaxe, not at the tentacles, but at the creature's core, the brightest point of green light on its chest.
The pickaxe bit deep into the semi-solid rock. A shriek, high-pitched and piercing, echoed through the tunnel. Green light erupted from the wound.
My "Seed" screamed in triumph. It latched onto the flowing energy, pulling it into me. It was a torrent—a flood of chaotic, toxic, but incredibly potent power.
The creature thrashed, its form beginning to crumble. Rocks fell away, and the green light dimmed. Within seconds, it was just a pile of inert, blackened stones and a puddle of harmless mud.
I stood panting in the sudden silence, my pickaxe still embedded in the rubble. The energy inside me was wild, buzzing, demanding release. I felt... invincible.
I pulled my pickaxe free and turned around.
Every slave, including Borok, was staring at me with utter horror. The man I had saved was kneeling on the ground, trembling, looking at me as if I were a god or a demon.
Borok finally found his voice. "What... what in the abyss are you?" he whispered.
I didn't answer. I looked at my hands. They were covered in black mud, but unharmed. The "Seed" in my stomach was purring with satisfaction, its warmth spreading through my body.
Overseer Yan's experiment had yielded results far beyond his expectations. I wasn't just a passive observer or a consumer of scraps.
I was a hunter.
And this mine was my hunting ground.
The lesson of the day was clear: some poisons weren't meant to be avoided. Some were meant to be conquered, consumed, and turned into strength.
And I had just developed a taste for the most dangerous prey.
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