The first few days passed like this, where pain and aching muscles were constant, as was skipping lunch, which was starting to affect him. He knew he had to do something before he slipped and drew the attention of the overseers.
Already, he had missed two days of exercising, choosing instead to sleep in until daybreak to make up for working late into the night. If he continued like this, he would miss his ten carts per day. He needed a solution desperately, and fortunately for him, he thought of one.
One of his biggest problems was time, much of which was consumed by rolling the carts to the first chamber, standing in line before depositing them, and getting his name marked. Why not just pile everything at the entrance of his tunnel and deposit five just before lunch? Although he would still use the same energy, at least it would help him a little. That way, he wouldn't miss lunch and would have the energy to work for the rest of the day.
On the morning of the fifth day, he dragged himself to exercise, even though every part of his body ached. Tiber and Syla shot him surprised looks; they thought he had given up when they didn't see him for two days.
He ignored them and spoke little as they finished up and went to eat. The food was bad, but it was warm and filled the stomach. Then he went straight to the mine, got his name marked for attending, and headed straight to their wing.
Tiber bid him good luck, and Syla scowled—just like normal. Atrox shook his head as he lifted his equipment. "I'm starting to build some kind of routine here," he muttered to himself and made his way to his tunnel.
He began to work as he normally did, removing his shirt first. However, instead of hurling each cart once full, he dumped it at the entrance of his tunnel, then went back inside to start on another cart. It was tiring work, and his thin body was soon coated with sweat, making his hands slick on the pickaxe. He had to stop and rub his hands with dust.
His body was already covered in a mixture of dust and sweat, and his upper body glistened like baked earth. He stopped constantly to wipe his face to avoid the grime getting into his eyes.
Suddenly, Atrox paused when a thought occurred to him—why didn't he try entering the 'inner peace' state he always used when training in the mornings? He nearly facepalmed himself. 'Why didn't I think of this before?'
It was supposed to be something to use during a battle or fight, but the essence of inner peace was to ignore distractions like pain and become absorbed in the task at hand. "Maybe that's why I didn't even think of using it for this," he muttered and rolled his shoulder.
He steadied his breathing and then closed his eyes, taking measured breaths. When Atrox opened his eyes again, they were calm and burned with a low light. Everything seemed distant to him, and he lifted his pickaxe as if underwater and slammed it into the rock with more strength than before.
Since he was ignoring his pain, he didn't flinch or hold back, fearing backlash. As if in a foggy illusion, Atrox began to mine starsalt with quick efficiency.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
He continued to work without stopping, ignoring when the resources on the ground exceeded two carts. He only stopped when his hands burned so fiercely he flinched at the vibrations running through them.
Atrox blinked as he slowly came back to his senses. All the pain he had been ignoring slammed into him at once, and he groaned, resting his head on the stone wall as he waited for the wave of pain to pass.
He was breathing hard, but his mind was refreshed and sharp, which helped as he packed two carts to add to the ones at the entrance. Then he returned, activated his inner peace again, and soon had another two carts of starsalt on the ground.
"I should make lunch this time." Atrox smiled even through his tiredness. His stomach growled painfully, but he shook his head and began to shovel the starsalt into the cart.
Soon, he was on his way to the entrance with the first load.
"Huh?" Atrox froze suddenly because, at the entrance where his starsalt had been loaded, there was nothing—emptiness. His starsalt was gone. "I don't... understand?"
He dropped the cart and hurried forward, almost stumbling, but he didn't care. He rushed to the place where the starsalt had been. He could see it had clearly been there from the disturbed ground, shovel prints, and some debris of starsalt.
He also saw the deep prints of a cart.
Atrox stood there, staring. Hunger forgotten, his head went blank, as if someone had just slapped him. Then his head grew heavy, and his skin became unnaturally warm. His confusion sharpened into anger. "Did someone just steal my hard work?" he asked softly, but the only reply was the echoing sound from the tunnels.
Bitterness bubbled to the surface, and his face twisted, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. A cold anger burned in his green eyes as he tilted his head and said, "All this maltreatment—first from my clan and now here? I think enough is enough."
He went back into his tunnel and picked up his pickaxe and shovel. Then he walked to the middle of the chamber and slammed the two pieces of equipment together.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
He did it again and again, taking a deep breath before bellowing, "Everyone! Everyone! If you are the one who stole my starsalt, then return it now! I believe we are all reasonable humans—return it now!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
"If you are the one who stole my starsalt, return it now!"