The moon sat high in the sky, casting its ghostly glow over the desolate camp. My breath hung in the air, cold and sharp, as I gripped the pickaxe. Around me, the slaves moved in a dull rhythm, their eyes hollow but their actions deliberate. The stench of sweat and damp stone filled the tunnel, yet I found myself oddly invigorated.
Tonight was the night.
Faco worked quietly beside me, his small frame nearly swallowed by the shadows. I could see his hands trembling, but he kept his movements steady, just as I'd instructed.
"Are you ready?" I asked, keeping my voice low enough to avoid the guard's attention.
He nodded, his voice a whisper. "The others are in place. Just waiting on your signal."
Good. The plan had been crude at best, stitched together from desperation and a few stolen whispers around the fire. But desperation breeds resolve, and these slaves were finally ready to fight for something more than just another day of survival.
I waited, my pickaxe scraping stone in a steady, rhythmic pattern. It was a sound the guards were used to, a sound that blended seamlessly into the background. But this time, there was intention behind it—a pattern, subtle but unmistakable to those who knew to listen.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Pause. Clang. Clang.
The rhythmic code rippled through the tunnel, a signal to the others. My heart hammered in my chest as the footsteps of the nearest guard grew louder, his heavy boots crunching against the loose gravel.
"What the hell are you doing?" the guard barked, his voice sharp as he stormed toward me.
I straightened, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as I could muster. "Just doing my job."
He didn't even bother with words, swinging the butt of his spear toward my ribs. I twisted, taking the blow against my shoulder and falling to my knees. But before he could follow up, a shadow moved behind him.
The slave I'd placed in position lunged, a rock in hand. With a sickening crack, the guard crumpled to the ground, his torch clattering beside him.
"Good," I hissed, grabbing the torch and motioning for the others to move. "You know what to do. Quickly."
The slaves scattered into their pre-assigned groups. One group crept toward the outer guards, their weapons makeshift but their movements eerily coordinated. Another group headed for the tents, carrying bundles of cloth soaked in oil stolen from the overseers. My group stayed behind, waiting for the flames to draw attention away from the mine.
I crouched low, torch in hand, as the first tent erupted in flames. The fire climbed fast, the dry canvas and wood feeding its hunger. Shouts rang out as the guards and overseers scrambled, their focus drawn to the growing chaos.
"Now!" I motioned to the slaves with me, and we moved deeper from the mine. The tunnels were narrow, the air thick with dust and the scent of burning oil from the fires above. Faco stayed close, his breathing shallow but determined.
"Stick to the plan," I muttered, more to myself than to him.
We emerged at the edge of the camp, where the head overseer's tent loomed like a grotesque shadow against the inferno. Two guards stood at its entrance, their attention flickering between the flames and the commotion.
"Leave this to me," I told Faco, handing him the torch.
Before he could protest, I stepped forward, my stride as confident as I could manage. The guards tensed, their hands moving toward their weapons.
"Stop right there," one of them growled.
I didn't stop. Instead, I surged forward, swinging the blunt end of my pickaxe at his head. The guard stumbled, his helmet doing little to soften the blow. The second guard lunged at me, but I ducked, ramming my shoulder into his stomach and sending him sprawling.
Faco rushed in, his small frame deceptively quick as he delivered a sharp kick to the first guard's ribs.
"Good work," I said, already moving toward the tent's entrance.
Inside, the head overseer and the noble stood in a heated argument, their voices rising above the chaos outside. The noble, with sweat glistening on his bald head, turned as we entered, his face twisting in fury.
"What is the meaning of this?!" he roared.
Faco didn't wait for an answer. He swung the torch, the heavy base colliding with the noble's skull. The man dropped like a sack of grain, his cries cutting off mid-sentence.
The head overseer backed away, his eyes darting between me and the unconscious noble. "You… you'll pay for this," he stammered, his voice breaking.
I took a step closer, my pickaxe still in hand. "You defied a king," I said, my voice cold and even. "Now you pay the penance."
In that moment, the strong connection to something morbid began to surface from deep within me. I couldn't tell what it was but I didn't fight it.
The air thickened as shadows spilled from my feet, alive and eager, their twisted limbs reaching out like starving beasts. I could feel their hunger, their yearning to consume, as they crept closer to his trembling frame. His labored breaths echoed in the stillness, a faint reminder of his humanity—a humanity I no longer shared at this point in time.
My voice, cold and hollow, sliced through the silence. "You thought yourself untouchable. Now, kneel and witness the birth of your reckoning." The shadows surged forward, their claw-like shapes clutching at his throat, strangling him, as the darkness claimed its due.
A faint hum reverberated in the air.
[System notification: Congratulations]
A cold, disembodied voice resonated in my mind, distinct yet devoid of emotion.
[You have successfully subdued your foe using the essence of darkness]
[Achievement unlocked: Harbinger of shadows]
[You have obtained your first skill: Umbral dominion]
The words etched themselves into my consciousness, their weight undeniable. A surge of power coursed through me, and I could feel the shadows responding, their movements sharper and more precise.
[Bonus skill unlocked: Wraith step]
The system's voice continued, each word igniting a spark of potential within me. The exhilaration was tempered only by the cold realization that this was merely the beginning. Power came with a price, and I intended to wield it without hesitation. The shadows at my feet swirled in agreement, their silent whispers promising more as they rescinded.
The camp outside was a war zone. Flames consumed the overseers' tents, casting dancing shadows over the slaves who now stood victorious. The guards who hadn't been subdued were fleeing into the woods, their weapons abandoned.
Faco and I emerged from the tent, the bodies of the noble and overseer lying limp behind us. The remaining slaves gathered around a makeshift feast, tearing into the food and supplies we'd scavenged from the overseers.
I sat among them, the warmth of the flames licking at my back. For the first time in days, there was laughter—small, hesitant, but real.
The night had been ours. But as I watched the flames consume the camp, I knew this was only the beginning.
Tomorrow, we would venture into the labyrinth where I would claim power.
Tomorrow the world would learn that Kendrin, once a king and now a slave, had taken his first step back to power.