"Looks like there aren't any more… are there, Mr. Werm?" The boy questioned the old wizard with a serious expression, which contrasted with his youthful appearance.
He pulled his pickaxe from the monstrosity's decapitated skull, then stared at the older man, awaiting his answer.
The wizard simply nodded in agreement. There wouldn't be another creature like that in the cave.
These monsters are usually territorial; they don't accept others of their kind outside of mating season, unless they consider a fight against them to be a constant draw, or that the wounds from the confrontation would outweigh the reward.
But it's clear that this particular specimen wasn't the type to accept those conditions.
It had enough power to defeat any invader.
With the cessation of the monster's aura, the miners had confirmation of its fall.
Then even those who had strayed too far and hadn't seen the entire confrontation returned to their work area.
Now they were no longer afraid of the turtle. Its lifeless, severed body wasn't so frightening.
In fact, they were excited about the corpse.
The turtle's body was also going to be exploited; it contained many indispensable resources.
Its rocky skin alone was more valuable than pure copper; now imagine its muscles, shell, bones, "blood." Most valuable of all, its mana heart.
A creature like that, so experienced and powerful, would have a mana heart of absurd quality.
The workers examined the fallen monster's body, carefully extracting all its resources without wasting anything.
"It was a mature, high-level beast, probably 200 years old," one of the most experienced workers said while analyzing the creature's interior. "A truly monstrous beast, the most difficult type to eliminate."
"You're right, my friend, I really thought I was going to die this time." Werm declared breathlessly.
He was obviously exhausted. Opening a tunnel that size, and then fighting an ancient monster like that, would kill anyone from the effort.
"If it weren't for the opening you made, I would have died for sure." At that moment, he looked at the boy who had helped him moments before.
His carefree and distracted posture made all attention vanish from him at high speed, but this effect didn't last with people like him.
"So it was you who threw that pickaxe?" Someone among the workers questioned.
"And without using magic? But who the hell are you? *haha*" The miner who had been examining the body climbed up laughing at the boy's feat.
"I just saw an opening and took advantage of it." He spoke as if it were no big deal, and tried to return to work as if everything were normal.
The boy seemed uncomfortable receiving any kind of attention; it was public knowledge that he wasn't a person who interacted with others and that he didn't like receiving attention from others, even praise.
The gaze of others was something he didn't want directed at him.
"You helped a lot… Dragomir." The experienced man praised the isolated and lonely Dragomir.
In response to the praise, the young man simply nodded and returned to his work.
The miners were already used to the boy's introverted behavior.
He wasn't rude or disrespectful, but he was incredibly quiet, and often responded only with sounds and murmurs instead of complete words.
It was almost as if his dialogue options were onomatopoeia.
Most people weren't concerned about this behavior; it wasn't that uncommon, he was just very reserved about his own life.
But not everyone saw it that way.
*Prrriiiiii*
A powerful whistle blared from the cave tunnels, signaling that it was time for a short work break.
All the workers happily stopped their respective tasks and headed for the canteen outside the cave.
As expected, everyone emerged from the cave cheerful and energetic. At times like these, even grown adults and family men seemed like excited and euphoric children.
Of course, the difference among them was Dragomir, who ironically was one of the youngest in that depth of the mine.
The line was always long, but the gray-haired youth managed to get his lunch without much trouble, and as usual, he moved away from the group to the edge of the hill where they were.
He liked that place because of the silence and the view.
From that point, it was possible to see all the space outside the magical dome that protected them from the vague space that surrounded them.
The place where he lived was one of the most remote from the central star of that system, literally on the fringes of the sun's magical zone, the furthest a normal person can reach.
Everyone in that isolated place worked or was related to those who worked in the mines. These mines were rich in mineral resources ready to be extracted.
It was hard work, but essential. The stones extracted from that isolated place were taken to various kingdoms and peoples, who benefited from the arduous work of unknown people.
Unofficially named "Goat's Hill," it was a gigantic asteroid, shaped like a goat's head.
A refuge for anyone who wants to disappear without the risk of being searched for. Here is a place for a fresh start far from society.
That community was far from practically everything; the only nearby settlement was the city-state of "Fortis Ventus" on Neptune. A journey that would take three Earth days.
A difficult journey, and as mentioned above, a long one, which is why one of the only ways to travel out of this place, and the fastest, is with a "Solar Caravan," the only interplanetary transport vehicle known to the intelligent races within the solar system.
A large wooden boat adapted for travel between worlds, the best means of transport that intelligent races can offer.
Dragomir was sent to this place seven years ago, when he was still a small boy. Having no other options, he began working there from then on.
Everyone knew this fact, and most wondered what the reasons were for such a young boy being sent to a place like that.
Many theories circulated in that community. The most famous of all was that this boy was the illegitimate son of some important nobleman, and that to avoid tarnishing his image, he was sent far away.
This theory made a lot of sense. A large part of the people in that place had the same origin.
Nobles always abandoned their unwanted children in this distant place to hide their mistakes. But they were only sent here when they reached the age of majority (16 years old), and Dragomir arrived at the ripe old age of 13.
The theory that he might be: "a descendant of some important political faction that was defeated. So, to keep their only heir alive and ready to regain the strength of that faction once again, they sent him to where no one would look for him" also seemed to make sense.
This wasn't a place with major events; any news that happened was enough to generate commotion.
And a mysterious boy, arriving here in a suspicious and poorly explained way, was a perfect target for the entertainment of these idle people.
Especially because he refused to say anything about his family.
Whenever they asked him about it, his answer was always "I was sold."
Which everyone knew was a lie. He didn't arrive on a slave ship; it was in a caravan that was normally used for noble bastards, so being sold didn't make sense.
While some miners, with nothing to distract themselves, invented increasingly absurd theories about the boy, he simply ate his lunch, oblivious to the stories being created behind his back.
Unlike those people who had nothing to entertain them, Dragomir lived lost in thought, distracted from the world around him.
And because of this distraction, he didn't notice the approach of an old wizard.
"You helped today, boy!"