Clang—clang—clang—
The dull and monotonous sound of digging echoed in the dim cavern of the fifth level.
Each strike of the mining pick sent up sparks, illuminating Gleam's lifeless face.
His eyes were hollow, as if his soul had long been extracted, leaving only a shell mechanically repeating the motion of swinging the pick.
Dwarves are typically solid, but at this moment Gleam appeared unusually small; his legs had vanished in the previous explosion.
It was only through emergency treatment and a few precious healing potions traded from Horn's group that he barely managed to cling to life.
But the fortunate survival of Gleam was quickly followed by the Puki bringing him to the cave to force him to mine.
Falling from heaven to hell, Gleam was completely numb, only mechanically swinging his pick under the occasional urging of the Puki.
"I'm willing to pay, can't anyone think of a way to rescue Gleam?" Tolin asked not far outside the cave, looking equally disheveled.
