Southern Hills – Mithril Mine Territory. Afternoon – Overcast.
After hours of breaking through rifleman blockades and traversing the barren stone desert, the Titan Convoy finally sighted their destination.
The Southern Hills loomed in the distance, surrounded by steep, brick-red cliffs. There lay the Mithril mine they had won at the auction—the new source of wealth for House Sudrath, or so the plan went.
However, something was wrong.
The road leading to the mine's entrance was silent. Too silent. There was no usual sound of mining activity, no clinking of pickaxes hitting rock, no songs of the miners. Only the sound of the afternoon wind whistling through the crevices of the rugged rocks, carrying red dust that stung the eyes.
A high wooden fence, three meters tall, surrounded the entire mining area, as if hiding whatever was happening inside. At every corner, watchtowers had been erected, complete with guards wielding long-barreled rifles.
"Stop here," Sir Rianor ordered through the internal radio.
Riven stepped on the brakes. The Titan MK-1 came to a halt with a loud screech of metal, about five hundred meters from the main gate.
Rianor raised his magic binoculars, peering through the steel viewing slit. He turned the focus lens, zooming in on the inner courtyard of the mine.
Rianor's usually expressionless face slowly hardened. His jaw clenched.
"What is it?" Riven asked, his hands still gripping the controls. "Another monster?"
"No," Rianor answered coldly. He handed the binoculars to his brother. "See for yourself, Brother. Look at what Morvath has done to our people."
Riven took the binoculars and aimed them past the fence.
What he saw made his blood boil instantly.
In the vast mining yard, he saw dozens of humans—men, women, even the elderly—carrying heavy baskets of Mithril ore. Their bodies were skeletal, mere skin stretched over bone. Their backs were covered in red welts from whip lashes, some fresh and others already festering. Their feet were connected to one another with heavy iron chains, forcing them to walk hunched over, dragging their steps.
They were not paid mining employees.
They were Slaves.
And those holding the whips were not Sudrath's hired foremen. Instead, they were foreigners in the distinct Black-and-Red uniforms of the Iron Empire, assisted by several of Morvath's local hired thugs who were laughing while smoking.
Riven's heart hammered, not from fear, but from fury. He recognized the faces beneath the filth and dust.
"That's..." Riven swallowed hard, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "That's Old Man Tobias... the grandfather who usually sells vegetables at the village market... and that's Ulric, the blacksmith's son..."
Rianor nodded slowly, analyzing the situation with a cold head despite his heart being just as furious.
"Morvath took over this mine while we were busy fighting in the North. He fired all our official employees, then kidnapped the border villagers to be used as forced labor. Free. One hundred percent efficiency according to his rotten dictionary."
"Efficiency, my ass!" Riven slammed the Titan's steel dashboard. BAM!
"That's slavery, Nor! On our own land!"
Riven was already about to open the cabin door, ready to jump out and thrash anyone there.
"Hold on, Brother!" Rianor stopped him quickly, grabbing his brother's arm. "Look at the watchtowers. There are four snipers there. If you go out now, you'll be shot in the head before you can land a punch. And even worse, they could use the slaves as hostages."
"So we just sit here and watch?!" Riven snapped, his eyes blazing.
Rianor shook his head. He pointed to the main gate of the mine, made of thick oak wood reinforced with iron.
"We aren't going to knock politely," Rianor said, adjusting his glasses. "We're breaking in."
Rianor picked up the prototype Walkie-Talkie.
"Rhea, position?"
"Left flank, hidden behind the rocky hill. Ready to move," Lady Rhea's voice came through clearly, accompanied by the hiss of the wind.
"Copy. Plan B," Rianor ordered. "The Titan will be the battering ram. Your task is to take out the snipers in the towers before they realize what's happening. The rest of us... we save the citizens."
Riven grinned savagely. He floored the gas pedal again, revving the engine.
"DO IT!"
Inside the Mine Area.
A fat Foreman in an Iron Empire uniform stood in the middle of the yard, holding a stingray-tail leather whip. He laughed as he watched an old man—Old Man Tobias—fall from exhaustion while carrying a twenty-kilogram chunk of Mithril.
CRACK!
The whip lashed across Tobias's frail back.
"Get up, you old fossil! Today's quota hasn't been met yet!" the Foreman shouted in a harsh foreign accent.
"Mercy, Lord... I haven't eaten in two days..." Tobias groaned, trying to crawl up on the sharp, rocky ground. "Water... please give me some water..."
"Water? Work first, then drink!" The Foreman raised his whip high for a second strike.
Suddenly.
The ground beneath their feet shook violently. Small pebbles danced on the earth.
VRRROOOOM!
The sound of an alien and terrifying engine roar drew closer. The Foreman turned toward the main gate in confusion. "What is that sound?"
CRASH!
The massive wooden gate exploded into a thousand splinters.
Wooden shards and iron hinges were hurled into the air.
A black iron monster—the Titan MK-1—burst into the mining area at full speed, flattening the guard post beside the gate. Black smoke billowed from its exhaust, creating the silhouette of a mechanical demon.
"WHAT THE—?!" The Foreman backed away in terror, his face deathly pale. "ATTACK! FIRE AT THAT THING!"
The guards in the watchtowers panicked. They hurried to aim their long rifles at the Titan.
However, before their fingers could even touch the triggers...
SHING! SHING!
Two blue shadows blurred atop the towers. Lady Rhea had leaped from her horse's back, landing on the tower balcony with the agility of a cat.
"Down or dead?" Rhea asked coldly, her rapier already pressed against one guard's throat.
The guard glanced down—a ten-meter drop—then looked into Rhea's murderous eyes. He chose to jump. Better a broken leg than a slit throat.
Below, the Titan performed a sharp drift maneuver and stopped right in front of the fat Foreman. Thick dust coated his clean uniform.
The Titan's side door opened with the hiss of hydraulic pressure.
Sir Riven jumped down.
He didn't bring his axe. He felt he didn't need a weapon to deal with trash like this.
A faint orange Aura enveloped his clenched fists.
"You..." Riven pointed at the Foreman with a finger trembling from rage. "You're the one who whipped that old man?"
"W-Who are you?!" The Foreman retreated, his legs weak at the sight of the two-meter giant before him. "I am protected by Governor Morvath! This is the jurisdiction of the Iron Empire! You are violating international law!"
"I am Riven Sudrath," Riven growled, stepping forward. Each of his steps made the Foreman shrink further. "And on this land, there is only one law: Free Men."
The Foreman panicked, trying to draw a flintlock pistol from his waist.
Too late.
Riven's massive hand had already clamped around the Foreman's neck.
With one effortless jerk, Riven lifted the fat body into the air, the Foreman's legs kicking helplessly.
"Let... cough... let go..."
"Do you like whipping old people who haven't eaten in two days?" Riven whispered into the Foreman's face.
Riven didn't kill him. That would be too easy.
He hurled the Foreman's body toward a pile of horse manure in the corner of the stables.
THUD.
"ATTACK!" shouted the remnants of Morvath's thugs who still had some nerve left.
But they had miscalculated.
From the gap of the destroyed gate, the Red Lions—the new recruits from Northreach—charged in.
Their eyes widened as they saw their neighbors, siblings, and childhood friends chained like animals.
"THAT'S ULRIC!"
"FREE THEM!"
The people's rage exploded.
The battle was short and brutal. Morvath's guards, who were used to oppressing the weak, scattered instantly when faced with a force rampaging for their families.
Minutes later, the mining area was under control.
Riven walked toward Old Man Tobias, who was still sprawled on the ground. He knelt in the dirt, not caring that his trousers were wet. With his bare hands, he gripped the iron chains on Tobias's feet.
KRAK.
Riven snapped the chains with the strength of his Aura.
"I'm sorry, Grandpa... we're late," Riven said gently, helping the old man sit up.
Tobias looked at Riven with teary eyes, his parched lips trying to form a smile.
"Young Master Riven... You came... I thought we would die as bones here..."
The sound of emotional sobbing began to echo throughout the mine. The liberated workers hugged their rescuers. "Long live Sudrath! Long live the Liberators!"
On the other side, Rianor stepped down from the Titan. He walked to inspect the piles of Mithril ore that had already been excavated.
There was a lot.
The mountain of bluish-silver stones glittered under the afternoon sun. Enough to pay off the contract with Seraphina in full, and then some.
But then, Rianor looked toward the workers.
Two hundred people. Sick, injured, and unable to walk far.
"Roland," Rianor called via radio.
"Yeah?" Roland appeared, panting, having just finished securing the enemy armory.
"Change the logistics plan," Rianor ordered firmly. "Those cargo wagons... don't fill them all with Mithril."
Roland was shocked. "Huh? But Nor, we need the money to buy grain!"
"Fill half the wagons with Mithril. Leave the other half empty," Rianor cut him off. He pointed to the elderly and the sick who couldn't possibly walk back.
"We use them to carry the people. We aren't just bringing rocks home, Lan. We're bringing our people home. Total evacuation."
"But... Seraphina will be furious if the Mithril quota is short," Roland said worriedly. "The contract is clear, Yan."
Rianor looked his brother in the eye.
"Let her be angry. Lives are more expensive than contracts."
Roland went quiet for a moment, then nodded firmly.
"Fine. I'll be the one to deal with that Dragon Princess later. Get the wagons ready!"
That afternoon, under the overcast sky, the Sudrath convoy prepared to head home. Not with abundant material wealth, but with a wealth of the heart that was far more precious.