Jacob nods at Orvick, and he waves at Reese to bring out their first cart. When Reese and Hayes roll it forward, everyone sees that the cart is heaped with carefully sorted silver lumps that give off a subtle, pale glow. A few of the older miners scratch their heads in disbelief. Luthor narrows his eyes, and Clayton snorts behind him.
One of the foreman's assistants tugs on the scale's lever, and the first cart's ore drops onto the metal plate. It creaks a little under the load. The clerk reads the measurement twice to avoid mistakes, then calls out, "One hundred kilograms. Eleven lumps have traces… two have high-grade mana in them."
"How in the depths…" a miner mutters.
A surge of whispers shakes the crowd. Someone from Crew 2 gapes, and another from Crew 9 grits his teeth because his entire group's effort did not even match that first cart. Still, Clayton holds his composure with a slight sneer, and Luthor keeps a cold smile.
"That's not bad," Luthor says, keeping his voice neutral. "It's respectable."
He casts a glance at Clayton, who shrugs as if saying that the kid must have drained every ounce of ore from that shaft. It should not be enough to overtake two hundred forty kilos.
Jacob's expression remains calm. He nods at Reese again, and they leave the gathering for a moment. The watchers exchange skeptical looks because they think that must be the entire yield. However, Jacob soon returns with a second cart that Knox and Hayes help push. This cart carries lumps that look less dense at a glance.
"They somehow filled two carts!" a novice miner exclaims.
The second cart rolls onto the scale, and the lumps tumble. The clink of metal echoes through the hush that falls on the yard. The clerk coughs and measures, then he shakes his head to clear his astonishment.
"Eighty kilograms," he announces.
Some gasps echo, and a few onlookers from Crew 3 grin with pride, though Clayton allows himself a quick sigh of relief. He sees Luthor's slight nod, so he chimes in.
"That's a total of one hundred eighty," Clayton says, mock admiration dripping from his tone. "A decent haul, but still far from us."
A few men in the crowd let out a low laugh. Yet Jacob remains silent, which unsettles Luthor. Jacob looks at Reese and Orvick, and he wipes the sweat from his forehead as if he has carried a great burden.
"Gentlemen," Jacob says, "we might have too much ore to cart by ourselves. We spent half our time reinforcing the tunnel and then we used that drill. We kept digging right up until today, so we still have piles."
He scans the crowd and gives a nod to the crews that do not look too worn out. Crews 7 through 10 seem a bit restless, so he addresses them politely.
"Do you think you could lend us a few hands?" Jacob asks them. "We still have a day's worth of ore sitting there, and it's quite heavy. I will see that you get your fair share of thanks and a few coins from me and from these men who worked by my side once we all get our cut."
Clayton scoffs because he believes Jacob must be bluffing. Luthor starts to speak, but he is stopped by the sight of men from Crew 7 volunteering. The extra hands go into the tunnel, and minutes stretch into an uneasy wait. Then the first cart from inside comes clattering out, and it is heaped with ore that sparkles under the lantern light. Another follows right behind it, and more wheels creak in a line.
The crowd backs away in shock and begins to count cart after cart while they chatter with growing disbelief. Every time they think they have seen the final load, another appears. When the last cart arrives, some miners stare at the mound as if it were a small mountain.
Men from Crew 9 rush to help the clerk weigh it all, and they start by measuring the entire load in sections. The clerk's initial awe morphs into grim acceptance because the numbers climb far beyond anything the yard has ever witnessed. Some of the lumps glow so strongly that they might contain incredible Mana saturation.
By the time the final measurement is announced, Jacob's crew has pulled out a staggering…
"Two thousand five hundred sixty‑two kilograms," even the clerk gawks at the number he just announced. "There's too many ores with mana traces to have them counted now. But… it's at least one-hundred-eighty-nine high-grade ones…"
A hush so deep that no one dares to breathe falls over the entire mine yard.
Jacob steps forward, and he locks eyes with Luthor. "I promised we would do our best, and I am grateful that my crew did not give up. The experienced hands of these miners let us push farther than anyone imagined. The drill helped us reach deeper veins, and the extra bracing was worth the trouble."
His voice carries through the stunned silence. Luthor stares at the mass of ore, looking furious and pale, although he tries to keep his composure. Clayton shifts his weight from one foot to the other as if ready to protest. A murmur runs through the yard because everyone knows that this yield is far beyond the two hundred forty kilograms from Luthor's group.
Luthor's jaw sets. He nods curtly, and he takes out a small metal box from inside his coat.
"Who's the one who mined the most ore?" Luthor asks through gritted teeth, already knowing the answer.
All the old men point at Jacob, who just smiles innocently back at Luthor.
Luthor hands the box to the young man.
Inside is the Mana Pool Skill Crystal, its faint Silver glow shining through even before he flips the lid.
With his face twisting in reluctance, Luthor leaves the crystal in Jacob's hands in front of every miner.
"Congratulations," Luthor forces out. "This is yours by the rules."
Jacob grips the Mana Pool Skill Crystal, and a wave of excitement flashes in his gaze, though he tries to keep himself steady. Applause and cheers explode in the yard from the miners who love a good underdog victory, and even a few older men grin in satisfaction.
Just then, Orvick's wrinkled knees buckle. His eyes roll upward, and he crumples to the ground. Jacob kneels fast and lifts the old man's head.
"What's happening?" Jacob asks, his voice sounding strangled as he runs by the old man's side.
Orvick breathes shallowly, and his sunken gaze drifts to Jacob's face. He gives a small smile, and he tries to speak in a whisper. Jacob leans in, and he catches the old man's words.
"I have felt my final days approaching," Orvick says, though his speech wavers. "I am happy I was able to spend them working with you."
Jacob chokes on his own breath, and tears fall down his cheeks.
"Don't leave me now, old man, we just met!"
He cradles Orvick's head. The old man's fingers tighten once on Jacob's wrist, then the tension leaves them. Orvick's eyes close, and the last bit of his breath escapes him.
Soon, Jacob wipes his eyes and stands unsteadily.
He turns toward the gloomy horizon, "I'll take care of the funerals. Please, Luthor, I'd like my pay on the spot so that I can tend to them."
Luthor nods reluctantly. He can't lose face in front of everyone by refusing Jacob the money under these circumstances.
"The boy's share is seventeen gold coins and three silvers. Once the count of the ore with mana traces is finalized, it might add a few more golds to it."
Luthor is almost bleeding internally at that sum—the ore Jacob mined is going to make much more than that to the mine's owner, the nobles, but he hates that the kid got that much money in one sitting; it's basically as much as the Mana Pool Skill Crystal costed!
* * *
I step inside Orvick's stone house, which stays eerily quiet in this far corner of the village. I know he kept a set of clean clothes in a trunk near his bed, and I want to make sure he has them when we bury him. My chest feels heavy, but I keep thinking of his unshakable kindness. He died believing in me, and I refuse to let that faith vanish.
I gather the folded clothes and set them on his table. That is when I hear footsteps behind me. Several silhouettes cluster in the doorway, and they hold weapons that glint under a single flickering lantern. My stomach knots the moment I see Clayton at the front. His sneer is sharper than usual.
"You were too lucky, Cloud," he says. "You had the old man's help. Now you have that Skill Crystal, and you've become a threat. Luthor knows we can't let you walk away, so I have my orders. You're about to meet that same end the old fool did."
My fingers press into the bundle of clothes until they crumple. Hearing him speak of Orvick's death so casually stokes my anger, and I can feel a searing heat pulsing through my veins. My right hand tingles as though flames crawl beneath my skin.
"You don't get to say his name," I growl. "You talk about Orvick as if he was nothing."
"Because he was—a pathetic old man. But don't worry. You'll meet him soon enough."
Clayton snorts and lifts a short sword. The men behind him spread out, eager to trap me. They wear expressions that show they want no one to leave this place alive. A fierce wave of rage swells in my chest, and I sense an unfamiliar force surging inside me. Fiery strands coil around my right arm and blaze into a molten glow. A sword of pure fire extends from my hand, flickering with scorching heat. Clayton lurches back, eyes wide as though he never expected this.
I grip the sword of flames and aim it straight at him. My voice comes out hard and unyielding as I face them in Orvick's final sanctuary.
"The only thing I'm sad about," I say, wielding Hell's Sword, "is that Orvick will have to see your ugly faces in the afterlife so soon."