"Yes," was all she said, and then nothing more. Her voice had changed, going from a bit friendly and free to guarded. Her face hardened with that sneer. "Come on, follow me to the section of Flagbearer Steelclaw and where you'll be working. Be quick; I still have to get my wound looked at."
He didn't know why she changed and began talking like that, but he didn't care either. They walked into the first layer. The ground here was better, softer than the one they'd been walking on since. Now that they were in the camp, Atrox could see that the ruins were not close to each other as he previously thought. They were spaced out, and he saw camps of different colors surrounding each ruin.
The people here were quiet but more watchful, as if waiting for a fight or a monster's attack. Merchants piled their goods anywhere they could unfold their tents, and they were all shouting out to buyers to come and get something that'll make them stronger.
Everyone seemed to be watching each other's colors before they interacted, and there was a subtle tension in the air that raised Atrox's hairs. Just what type of place is this? It's like a storm would start at any time.
"This is the base of the Steelclaw Alliance in the first layer. And that's our main ruin here. It's where most of our resources from this layer come from and where you will work. It's hard labor, but it'll keep you alive—for now."
A cluster of tents painted red and black stood before them. There must have been over a hundred tents, each big and long, able to hold a lot of people at once. In the middle of it all was the mine, a rugged mound of earth held up by wooden and metal beams. He was able to see the dark opening, like the yawning mouth of a beast.
She gestured, and he followed. Atrox felt eyes on him as the people standing nearby saw and dismissed him. Everyone was looking at the new guy. Scrawny and without anything of worth on him, they quickly forgot about him. They've seen a lot like him—and all dead, almost all.
Atrox also watched them in return. They...weren't bad. They looked well-fed, and most of them were even exchanging conversations with laughter. 'I suppose they give them food so they can perform well. It'd be bad to have half-starving skeletons working' he thought.
Finally, they stopped at a tent that looked just like any other there, and they entered. It smelled like dirt, sweat, and sourness. Taiwo grimaced. "Your new home. I am handling Group 10, and you are part of them—thirty of you. The people in this tent will be your direct co-workers. Any questions?"
Atrox hesitated but then asked, "The people from outside—are they also workers of the labor camp? They are...well."
Taiwo pressed her lips together. "There are ten wings for this mine, from number one, the best wing, to number ten, the worst. Meaning the resources you can get in each wing descend from number one downward. And there's a quota to be maintained.
"You get your commissioned resources and more, then you can be moved into a better wing, get good food...meat. But us in the lower wing? Dream to survive the next day." With that, she turned and left.
Atrox stood there in his new home and got a first good look around. Now that he was looking, he saw that it was not as big as it should be, with the five bunk beds cramped into it. There wasn't much in the way of personal belongings that he could see. And even he brought nothing.
With nothing to do, he sat down on the closest bed and studied the small globe of light attached to the roof of the tent. His hand scratched his neck, and he froze. 'What? My wound has healed!'
He touched it again and swallowed. The small cut on his neck was gone as if it was never there. 'I know I'm a Squire...but this hasn't happened before. Why can I heal myself now?'
Atrox's fingers were filled with scars he got from scratching the prison's door until they bled raw. 'So why now?' He never received any lessons about the Squire rank. 'Is it because I killed a monster?'
He didn't get the chance to think more about it before the tent flapped open and the dirtiest people he'd ever seen walked inside. Men and women, all covered in dust that clung to every part of their bodies.
They froze when they saw him, and nine pairs of eyes watched him.
"Seriously? This one? The last one still had some stamina. This one looks as if he'd fall over any moment," a woman said. She was almost as thin as Atrox, with muscles as tough-looking as boiled leather.
"Stop it, Syla. Don't scare the newcomer," a gruff voice said.
Syla snorted and shot Atrox a glare. "What? He's going to die anyway. Everyone in wing ten always dies. We are the exception—for three years now. You know I'm telling the truth, Tiber."
The man grunted.
The others behind her flinched, and it was then that Atrox saw the other members in the tent crowding behind the two.
Tiber and Syla were just so...normal that Atrox was focused on them, but the others fit into what he expected here. They were gaunt and thin, with limbs that twitched and eyes that were dull and downcast.
Atrox knew those eyes—it's the look of someone for whom everything is hollow and bleak.
Tiber and Syla finally moved out of the way and claimed a bed for themselves.
The others shuffled forward and also claimed their beds, dust and all.
Atrox's stomach growled. 'Wait...won't they give us food? When was the last time I ate?'
He heard no answer except for the snoring of his new team. Atrox stared at the small yellow light. 'What a fun bunch' he thought, and then he rolled into the bed and closed his eyes.
'At least I'm not in darkness again'