Three days. Exactly three days had passed since the night in the latrine, but for Nathan, it seemed like a lifetime had been left behind in that destroyed hut.
"Deep Mine 9" wasn't just a name to scare children. It was a stifling hell, where the air was so thin that every swing of the pickaxe demanded double the lung effort. Here, the rock was harder, black as obsidian, and the Hot Iron ore they mined was, to put it mildly, a geological curse. It had a habit of releasing radiant waves of heat out of nowhere, causing second-degree burns on any skin not calloused enough.
The heat wasn't just temperature; it was a physical presence, a weight trying to cook the slaves from the inside out.
However, while other slaves fainted or cried from exhaustion around him, Nathan maintained a steady rhythm. His hands were in a deplorable state, covered in burst blisters, yes, but he felt something different inside him. A kind of... unnatural resilience.
He struck the pickaxe against the rock, and the impact reverberated through his arms.
'Before, this blow would have made my bones vibrate with pain up to my shoulder. Now, I feel like my body absorbs the impact and disperses it. This is the Shared Aptitude.'
He paused for a second, pretending to wipe the sweat dripping into his eyes, and focused on the corner of his vision.
[RelatórioMission Completion Report: Make 'Ox' Survive this Night]
Result: Success.
Reward: Acquired passive body skill equal to 20% of your disciple's status.
Current Status: Aptitude [None] -> [Polished Trash].
'Polished Trash... The System has a sadistic sense of humor. But it worked. Just by guaranteeing Ox didn't die, my capacity to endure physical effort improved, however minimally. 20% of the strength of a genetic monster like Ox is enough to make me a "healthy human" in this place of the living dead'.
Nathan took a deep breath, feeling the hot air burn his lungs, and opened the full panel. He needed to understand where he stood in the food chain.
[Patriarch System]
Host: Nathan (No Surname)
Cultivation: Mortal (Beginner)
BodyTraining: Fragile Body (Progress: 10%)
Sect: None (Level: Slave Shack)
Master Points: 0
Disciples (1/2):
[Ox] - State: Fanatical Loyalty (Naivety).
Potential: Iron Body (Blocked by malnutrition).
Level: Entry into the Vigorous Flesh Stage (Natural Brute Strength).
'Vigorous Flesh Stage... I heard the guards talking about this yesterday. First comes Copper Skin, so you don't get cooked alive in six months down here. Then Vigorous Flesh, to have the strength of a bull. Ox skipped the skin stage and went straight to strength. He is an anomaly.'
Nathan looked to the side. Ox was there, carrying a basket of Hot Iron stones that would normally require a grown man to carry. The ore glowed with a dangerous reddish hue, but the giant worked with a goofy smile on his face, happy just to be near his "Master." His arm, healed by the pill, had an ugly, twisted scar, but the strength seemed to be there.
'The good thing about working in the deep mines is that at least we don't need to be chained. There is nowhere to run.'
Nathan turned his eyes to the main tunnel, lit only by spaced-out torches and the malignant glow of the ore. There were dozens of other children and teenagers there; they were part of the new batch of slaves that arrived to replace everyone who died in the hut. Most were broken, with empty stares, gray skin, and wounds, just waiting for death to arrive. They were weak. Useless for heavy labor. Disposable to the foremen.
But to Nathan?
'They are fuel. If I can't recruit the strong because they would crush or betray me... I will harvest the weak. Quantity has a quality of its own. If I sum up 20% of fifty failures, I become a god among mortals.'
The iron bell rang, echoing through the tunnels like the wail of a metallic demon. It was "mealtime", a ten-minute break to swallow sour rice paste and dirty water before the afternoon shift began.
The slaves dropped their tools and ran to the food buckets like starving animals. Nathan and Ox walked calmly. Nathan observed the group's social dynamics. Even in misery, there was hierarchy. The biggest stole from the smallest. Those who had reached the threshold of "Copper Skin" oppressed those who still had "Fragile Bodies."
In a damp corner of the tunnel, a skeletal boy, who couldn't be more than 12 years old, was huddled, protecting his wooden bowl against his chest. Two larger teenagers, who had arms slightly thicker than average, were kicking his shins.
"Drop it, 'Twig'. You didn't hit the quota today, you don't deserve to eat," one of the bullies said, laughing and showing rotten teeth. "The Foreman said waste is a sin, hehe."
The boy, Twig, cried silently but didn't let go of the food. His fingers were white from gripping the edge of the bowl. It was the only thing keeping him alive for another day.
'Perfect. A desperate target, no allies, no hope, and most importantly, no value to anyone but me. The investment is low, one bowl of rice, and the return is a lifetime of servitude.'
Nathan gave a subtle tap on Ox's elbow.
"Ox. Do you see those two over there?" Nathan whispered.
"Hm," Ox replied, seemingly agreeing, furrowing his thick brow.
"They are obstacles. Take their food and give it to the little one. But don't hit them unless they try to hit you. Just... show them you are a wall."
Ox nodded, dropped his own bowl into Nathan's hands, and walked toward the commotion. His heavy steps made the gravel crunch, attracting stares.
The two bullies were about to kick Twig again when a shadow covered them, blocking the torchlight. They looked up. And kept looking up. Ox, with his 1.70m height and muscles hardened by labor, stood behind them like a siege tower.
"What do you want, retard?" the bully growled, trying to sound brave but taking an instinctive step back. He knew Ox was strong, but he also knew Ox was "dumb."
Ox said nothing. He simply reached out his huge hand, grabbed the food bowl from the bully's hand, and pulled. The teenager tried to hold on, tensing his thin muscles, but it was like trying to stop a tree from falling. Ox took the bowl effortlessly and, with his other hand, pushed the bully lightly on the chest.
The boy flew about a meter back, tripping over his own legs and falling on his butt in the hot dust.
The tunnel went silent. Even the chewing stopped.
Ox turned to little Twig, who was trembling with fear, thinking he would be next, and extended the stolen bowl.
"Ordered," Ox said, his deep voice echoing in the silence. He pointed his thumb backward.
All eyes, including the crying boy's, turned to Nathan. He was leaning against the stone wall, eating his own rice paste with an aristocratic calm that didn't fit his ragged clothes and soot-stained face. He chewed slowly, ignoring the tension in the air.
Nathan pushed off the wall, wiped his mouth, and walked over to the boy. He passed the bullies on the ground without even looking at them. To Nathan, they were less than dust; they were irrelevant NPCs.
He stopped in front of Twig. Nathan analyzed the boy with clinical coldness.
'He is pathetic. Severe malnutrition, visible ribs, probably has worms. Weak bones, broken spirit. By the mine's standards, he dies in the next heat wave. But... his eyes. He holds the bowl as if he would kill for it. There is a survival instinct there.'
"What is your name?" Nathan asked, his voice low but firm, projected to sound authoritative.
"K-Kael... but they call me Twig," the boy stammered, looking up, holding the extra bowl as if it were solid gold.
"Eat, Kael," Nathan said, in a tone that wasn't an invitation but an order. "And when you finish, sit next to Ox. From today on, no one kicks you anymore. But in return..."
Nathan leaned in, lowering his tone to a whisper only the boy could hear, a serpent offering the apple.
"...your life belongs to me. If I tell you to dig, you dig. If I tell you to bleed, you bleed. If I tell you to jump into the Hot Iron, you jump and thank me for the warmth. Understood? If so, follow me to the back of the mine."
The boy looked at the bullies on the ground, who were dusting themselves off and looking with hatred but no courage to attack Ox. Then he looked at the mountain of muscle that was his protector. And finally, he looked into Nathan's cold, calculating eyes.
He didn't see kindness. He saw hunger, not for food, but for something different.
Kael picked up the bowl from the ground and started walking behind Nathan.
The two bullies got up, their faces red with humiliation. One of them, a boy named Rat (a nickname given for his teeth), spat on the ground.
"You'll pay for this," Rat sneered, emphasizing the word with sarcasm. "When the Foreman finds out you're stealing food and forming gangs, let's see who laughs. The big guy is strong, but a whip cuts flesh just the same."
Nathan stopped. He didn't turn completely, just turned his face in profile.
'Threats. Predictable. If I let it slide, I lose authority. If I attack now, I draw the guards' attention.'
"Ox," Nathan said calmly.
"Hm?"
"If they come near Kael or our mining area... break their fingers. One by one. Say it was a work accident with the stones."
Nathan's voice held no anger. It had the tone of someone reading a grocery list. Rat paled. The coldness was far scarier than screaming. Ox smiled, a smile that showed too many teeth, and cracked the knuckles of his huge hand.
Rat and his crony backed away and ran to the other side of the tunnel.
Nathan returned to his corner of the mine, followed by Ox and the recruit, Kael.
In a curve where Nathan and Ox worked alone, Kael looked timidly at them, as if at any moment they might simply decide to steal his food and beat him.
"Just like Ox, you will acknowledge me as Master. I will teach you how to survive this hell, and I will allow you to leave here one day. To be free!" His voice sounded frank.
Kael, still unable to believe what he heard, was stunned, thinking about the possibility of one day being free, like the birds that flew in the sky and sang happily.
'Be free? I don't know, but just being able to eat every day without being beaten by other slaves is already great.'
"If you agree, kneel before me, knock your head 3 times on the ground, and then I will acknowledge you as a disciple."
A dry sound was heard 3 times in that corridor. Kael, without thinking much, knelt and knocked his head as asked. The problem was just one: he chose exactly a spot with Hot Iron ore. The result? A brand was burned onto the left side of his forehead, a raw burn.
A soft sound chimed in Nathan's mind.
(Ding!) [New Disciple Recruited!]
Name: Kael (Twig)
Aptitude: ??? (Hidden - Requires 'Spirit Eyes' to see details).
Special Attribute: Natural Survivor (Spends 30% less energy to live).
Recruitment Reward: Basic Breathing Technique: "The Turtle's Breath" (Transferable).
'This is it. This is how it starts. Not with glory, but with desperation. And "Turtle's Breath"? It must be a technique to lower metabolism. Perfect for keeping these wretches alive with little food.'
Nathan raised his hand, signaling Kael to get up, while analyzing the brand on his new disciple's forehead. It had the irregular shape of a broken mountain.
"Eat fast. The shift starts in two minutes."
While he said this, a new sound was heard.
(Ding!)
[Hidden Achievement Unlocked: The Mark of Suffering]
Condition: A disciple branded themselves with the hostile environment during the recruitment ritual.
Reward: Sect Totem Unlocked -> [Hot Iron Brand].
Effect: All disciples bearing this mark gain +5% Heat Resistance.
Group Panel: Unlocked.
Nathan returned his attention to his two disciples. Kael was eating the rice paste with desperate speed, choking.
"Slow down," Nathan instructed. "Now, listen. The afternoon will be worse. The mine's temperature rises. Kael, you are small. Don't try to break big rocks; you'll faint. I want you to look for the cracks."
"Cracks, Master?" Kael asked, wiping his mouth.
"Yes. The Hot Iron 'breathes'. Before it heats up, it releases a light steam, almost invisible. I want you to use your eyes. If you see steam, tell Ox to hit there. The hot rock breaks more easily, but it is dangerous. You are the eyes. Ox is the hammer. I am the mind."
The bell rang again. Work resumed. Nathan picked up his pickaxe, feeling the rough handle. He was still a slave, still in the mud, but now he had two tools. And well-used tools built empires.
'Let's see how fast I can turn this "Trash" into Iron.'