The official raised his hand, and within a moment, ten guns were aimed at Elysia.
"Wait!" Kael's voice cut through the heavy silence, and in a blur, he stepped forward, breaking free from Ryker's grip before his friend could stop him.
The workers around him shifted uneasily, some of them looking to each other, others to the official.
The official turned to him, head cocked with intrigue. "And who are you?"
Kael squared his shoulders, his chest rising with a breath he barely had the strength to take. He pushed aside the dizzying fog of his injury, fighting the pain that still gripped him.
"Kael Duskborne," he said firmly, stepping even closer. "And I think you'll regret your decision to end our lives."
"And why is that?"
"You might look at us and see miners—see us as expendable, as tools to dig for your precious obsidian. But you're wrong."
The official squinted and stepped closer, looming over Kael, as if trying to intimidate him into silence. But Kael didn't flinch. He stared straight into the official's masked eyes, unwavering.
"We're stronger than we look," Kael said, his voice growing louder. "You might think of us as useless miners. But in my short time here, I've become stronger. Mentally and physically. You don't know the pain and struggle we go through every day to provide your obsidian. You only know how to punish."
The official scoffed, stepping up to Kael. "Listen here, Duskborne. We are merely doing our jobs. Unlike you."
Kael's anger flared, and he took a deep breath, feeling his pulse thrum in his ears. "Your job? You're nothing but a puppet. A cog in a broken machine, just like the rest of us. Tell me, what makes you better than any of us? What makes you so special, so worthy of standing above the people who built your world?"
His words came fast now, like a river breaking free from a dam. He couldn't stop them, even if he wanted to. "And how did you acquire such a high-ranking position? What makes you better than any of us? Your pristine white suit? Your gun?"
I won't stay a slave to the Royals, to this endless cycle of suffering and servitude.
"When I was born into this world," Kael continued. "I was given an assignment. And I was expected to follow that order. But why? What makes you, hell even the Royals, more powerful than me? Who controls this poor system that allows people just like me to be put down like a wild animal?"
"Kael," Elysia whispered, her voice a warning. But he wouldn't listen. There was nothing left to lose.
The official took a deep breath, his gloved hand rising to his mask. For a moment, Kael thought he might strike him or issue some command. But instead, the official pulled the mask away, revealing a face beneath.
Kael recoiled, his breath catching in his throat.
The official's face was a grotesque mockery of humanity. His skin was patchy, covered in strange, spiny growths, as though his flesh had mutated over time.
His eyes, piercing blue, glowed in the dim light, unnervingly familiar. They sparkled like Kael's stone, like the power that pulsed in his chest.
Beneath a set of cracked lips, Kael could see teeth, sharp and pointed, peeking through.
There were gasps from the crowd, and the official smiled. "You see what this world has done to humans? You ask why we're so different? You were created in a lab, by us. By the Royals. Genetically favorable. But most of you are Soulless. You lack what once made you human."
"You should be grateful," he continued, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Me? I am a survivor. Soren Kreel. First of my name. Part of the fifth generation of humans who migrated to this world. It's shaped me into something more. I've been forced to adapt to this world. That makes me strong."
"Survivor, huh?" Kael's voice was hoarse but steady. "You think you're the only ones who've had to adapt? You've lived a life of privilege, of comfort. But we've survived too. We've been down here—fighting, bleeding, dying—for a life we didn't choose. All for some scraps."
He took another step forward, watching as the creature in front of him replaced his mask. "And you expect us to be grateful? For being given a life of servitude?"
"For being given life," Kreel said, taking another deep breath in, as if he couldn't breathe without the mask on. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't for us."
"I don't think-"
Kael was cut off as Kreel slammed a gloved fist into his face, knocking him to the ground hard.
He groaned in pain, spitting out blood from his mouth.
"I didn't plan to kill all of you today for your failures," Kreel said in an authoritative voice. "Some of you worked hard to meet the quota. But together, you all failed. A punishment is in order. Does anyone else wish to defy us today?"
The workers remained silent. Then, starting with Ryker, they knelt to the ground, one by one.
"Good," Kreel said, sounding pleasantly surprised. "You are smart to submit to us. Now only two of you shall suffer the consequences today. Elysia, your leader. And Kael Duskborne, a boy who fights for a freedom he isn't owed."
Kael wasn't done yet. He began to find his footing, trying to find the strength to stand.
Kreel stepped in front of him, giving Kael a kick in his side. "Stay down."
Kael gasped for breath, resting his bloodied face on the cold stone ground.
"Officials, take aim at Elysia. I'll handle this one," Kreel said, indicating Kael. He raised his gun, and Kael found himself staring down the barrel.
"Kael Duskborne," Kreel said in almost a whisper. "I sentence you to death."