Her hair was short and jet-black, drooping on skinny shoulders. The girl looked frail, but her eyes had a visible fire to them; they didn’t imprison her sedated, like they did to me. Her dirty, patched-up tavern dress was discolored and about the same hue as the ground below us.

Her radiant and fiery eyes converged on me. “If you so much as look at me too hard, I’ll fucking gut you, old man!” Her nostrils flared and she whipped out a shiv hidden somewhere on her person. “Do you understand?” The tension between us rocketed as the first thing she’d say was a direct threat was. She smashed her fist against the wall next to me. “Do you understand?!”

I scoffed, and couldn’t help having a lively little cachinnation. “With your age and body type, you’re very safe around me, so relax. Also, don’t you dare call me an old man.” I’m a young lady, goddammit. I gestured for her to have a seat on the stitched leathers of a bed that we had, which she gladly ignored. “Listen, we’ll both get along splendidly as long as you don’t disturb my exercise and meditation. Oh, and cover up your poop, okay?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, father.” Her sarcastic tone didn’t exactly allow me to feel sympathy for her being caught. What did attract my attention to her though, was the bruises about her face and arms.

I continued with my pushups and put my mind on my workout. Sometimes, I’d focus so much, that a dim light would encapsulate the muscles that I was engaging, and I’d suddenly be imbued with strength; the exercise would feel like child’s play. But I avoided this as much as possible, because I knew pain meant gain. I finally stopped and rested. “How’d you end up here?”

She laughed weakly. “I don’t even know your name, old man.”

“Hey,” I stared daggers at her, “my name’s Andre. So quit it with the old man thing already. I’m barely thirty.”

“Sounds old to me,” she shrugged. “And what can I say? I got caught. No one comes to the slave mines willingly, right?” She stared lovingly at the little shiv in her hand, as if recounting the events that put her in this position. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Ugh… It hurt that I was so easy to figure out. But what bothered me even more was this mention of slaves. “Slave mines? Is that what’s going on? Are we…”

“Slaves, yes.” She stood up, dusted her butt off and strolled over to the iron bars. “Once the black market’s auction comes around, all the slaves with useful abilities get sold. The rest of us will be sold normally, as laborers, or sex slaves.” Her eyes fell on me, then it went back to gazing outside the bars. “You’ve a decent behind, and a good build. I reckon you’d be a good laborer and sex slave, might even make it to the auction.”

The dismal way she spoke left a nasty taste in my mouth. For a girl her age to know so much of the horrors of this world was sad, but it wasn’t like I knew better than her. “What’s your name?”

Her smile went wide. “Does my name really matter if I’m about to escape?”

“Wh—” An explosion blew the entrance to the mine open. What the fuck?! I hugged the walls until my hearing came back to me. The kid was long gone by the time I peeped my head out the bent iron bars. I wiggled out a little after, and the sounds of battle could be heard as clear as day. A horrible dilemma struck me. Sure, I could stay here and hope for the best. My gear was gone, so what was I going to do in a battle anyway? They wouldn’t let me poke them in the eye. But it felt bad to remain in the cell, an attempt had to be made, even just to see what was going on.

I wiggled past the bars, snuck through the winding tunnels, and kept my head low. And lucky me, I came across a weapon repository. I picked myself up a sword, a small shield, and continued towards the fighting. The thick scent of blood was all over the place. The clatter of weapons filled the dungeon, until it suddenly slowed down. Some guy was giving a big monologue, which I mostly ignored.

I finally broke the corner and almost got caught, so I hid quickly and slowly peeped out. There were about five people all dressed in a bit of fancy armor, and about a dozen, including the grand speech-maker, who wore the same uniform as the guards that threw that stale bread for me.

“Now, you fools will perish und—” The magnificent speech got cut off, just like his arm when I activated a skill and swung my sword. It got lodged in his ribcage. I was about to yank it out, but he moved and yelped in pain as the realities set in. The man was bawling his guts out.

I quickly grabbed him by the robe and used the sway of my entire body and the power of both arms to slam him to the floor. His next hand was about to shoot something out, but I finally ripped the sword out of him and stabbed down on his neck with it, over and over, until he could focus on nothing except a futile attempt at covering up his neck with his bloody hands in hopes of survival.

The reality of the situation struck a sorrowful chord with me as well; I saw another human’s light go out, and I caused it. It was a reality I constantly battled with; I couldn’t deny the fact and keep lying to myself – I was a murderer. I swallowed my guilt in the moment.

A furious battle cry warped out a man’s mouth. His legs alit, as did his arms and axe. He closed the distance so easily, but I kept my composure. I felt like I could see all his movements, despite their speed. He entered the fray with a light attack of his axe, which I dodged without too much effort, then a kick came out from him. I turned sideways and his toes grazed against my stomach. After, his two-handed axe swung down like an unmerciful executioner. It was headed right for me, and at the angle I was at, dodging was impossible. My best bet was blocking with my shield, but my footing wasn’t good.

My fingers loosened their hold on the sword and my hands naturally, reflexively, faced the berserker. Somehow or another, I erected an Earth Wall which didn’t stop the axe from penetrating through, but slow it more than enough for my shield to finish the job and block properly. I pulled a recent favorite out from my move repertoire and headbutted the guy. The nose was a weak spot, enemies would seize up just like when you hit them in the crown jewels.

From there, it was a simple matter of picking up my sword and finishing him off. Another one dead from my sword continued staring up at me as if forever damning and cursing my existence. I looked away and focused on the rest of the scuffle, or lack thereof. They all just stared at me, enemy and ally alike. I didn’t even know if that party was hostile or not from the way they ogled me.

Now, I clutched my sword tighter and properly faced the rest of them, how the hell do I get out of here?