Luminescent moss grew within the mine, strategically placed to ensure all passageways were brightly lit, not to mention purifying the air regularly to ensure the Free Humans mining within were healthy.
Usually, after the Cold Shower ends and the ice thaws away, the Cooter Clansmen would arrive at the mine’s entrance to hand out rations. The Free Humans would get rations according to how much minerals they had mined.
Those with better performances were rewarded with better food that would grow the weapon at the tail end of their Ewworm. The reward wasn’t a better living condition. It was merely something that allowed them to mine better.
The Cooter Clan deemed this to be sufficient for the Free Humans, as they should be grateful to be alive in such a dangerous world.
Thud! Clank!
A middle-aged man sweated buckets as he used a large shovel to wedge into a cave wall, grunting as his muscles bulged under the exertion. His Ewworm reached a length of four metres, enormously long, and had grown a steel-like pickaxe at its end.
It exerted force to repeatedly slam into the wall right underneath the spot he had wedged. This way, once the wall weakened, it would collapse, making it easy for the man to fish out mineral ores from the collapsed remains.
He had figured out this method after a long span of trial and error, and now was one of the best-performing miners of the Fral Island. With 5800 Free Humans mining underground Fral Island, the competition was intense as many of them had a developed Ewworm.
“Keuk!” He grunted as the ticklish sensation in his eye worsened over time. Stopping his mining actions, he rubbed his eye, feeling that the ticklish sensation only got worse with time. “Dammit, not now!”
Mining for extended durations, living in cold, damp places, barely being in the sunlight, less than optimal hygiene, and being exposed to all sorts of minerals, many of which were harmful. Combined all together, they affected his body.
There was a limit to how much his Ewworm could filter out everything and keep his body clean. At least if he lived on the island outside, basking in the sun for a few hours daily, his health condition would have been a lot better.
But, the Cooter Clansmen didn’t allow that. Free Humans were forced to stay in underground quarters situated in rundown mining tunnels that were bereft of ores. They didn’t have a life beyond mining and eating, systematically brainwashed by the Cooter Clansmen.
Auta was a middle-aged man who had been born on Fral Island, having been living there for the past forty-five years. He never knew a life beyond mining.
He had a family, but couldn’t nurture a sustainable bond between them. After all, once his kids were born, they were taken into custody by the Cooter Clan to be taught ‘common sense.’
Worship the Cooter Clan. The Immortals of the Cooter Clan were descendants of the Deities and existed to protect the world from harm. Free Humans were born to serve them. Without the Cooter Clan’s protection, they would have been wiped out by the Pranic Beasts long ago.
These lines were merely part of a long list of ‘common sense’ repeatedly hammered into Free Human children from young. At three years old, an Ewworm would be attached to their butt, allowing it to consume their excreta and grow.
At eight years old, the Free Human was considered old enough to work for a living. After all, their Ewworm would have grown a small pickaxe by now.
They would be introduced into the mines, designated to work at locations far away from their parents, unaware of who their parents were. They would grow their entire lives without knowing the identity of their parents, creating a detachment.
As a result, a strong enough bond never formed among the Free Humans as they lived detached lives, mingling about a small group of Free Humans for their entire lives as work buddies.
Auta’s wife had died when a cave wall collapsed upon her. It had been four years since that incident. The rest of his group too died from mining mishaps over the years, rendering him alone as everyone he grew up with was dead.
Rumble!
An almost spherical egg rolled towards him and touched his legs, alerting him of its existence. It was smooth to the touch, but hard enough that even his pickaxe failed to dent it.
It barely spanned the size of his little finger as Auta wondered what it was. Suddenly, a hole formed at its top, releasing an intoxicating scent into the air, mesmerising him, developing in him an urge to swallow its contents.
Honestly, Auta didn’t have the experience to judge whether or not to swallow it. It had been a while since he last used his brain, having gotten accustomed to his monotonous, mundane life of repeated mining.
Hence, he was no different from an Iron Grade Pranic Beast, driven by his instincts. With a gulp, he downed the contents of the egg, licking his lips in ecstasy, “A…amazing!”
There was a warm feeling in his stomach, following which a mysterious energy began to circulate through his bloodstream, little by little, soon reaching his heart. Gradually, the effect surged in his Spirit Container.
The Cold Shower had ended by now as Auta exited the mine to deliver his ore and received a bag of supplies, from food and water to medicines. Slinging his bag of goods on his back, Auta returned to his residence, an abandoned cave where no one lived.
His group had lived here once. And after everyone died, he was left alone in this damp location. In a daze, Auta slumped on his stone bed, using a rolled bundle of clothes as a pillow as he felt the mysterious energy continue to surge in his body, “I…never felt this good.”
Unknown to him, peeking at him from the corner of the tunnel was an Empyrean Zinger Scout. As he lay on the stone bed, the egg in his possession rolled out and floated towards it.
The Empyrean Zinger Scout swallowed it and erased all traces of its actions, patiently waiting as Auta’s stomach continued to digest the contents of the egg.
Almost four hours later, the digestion process concluded as the last trace of the energy entered his Spirit Container. Immediately, there was a minor surge in Prana, increasing his Prana value from eight to twelve.
Moreover, mysterious information flooded his mind. It was so much that he was almost overwhelmed by it, feeling like his head was about to shatter. But a warm feeling pervaded his head and healed the pain, allowing him to withstand it.
Another two hours passed by in such a fashion as the information finished condensing in his mind, allowing Auta to instinctively know what he had received, “T-This is the legendary cultivation technique of the Immortals.”
He stared at his hands as goosebumps formed on his skin, causing both terror and unsurpassable euphoria. After all, what he had obtained was a chance encounter granted to him by the heavens, one that would pave the way for him to attain the heavens themselves.
It was the pinnacle treasure of Sumatra Continent, guarded closely by one of its strongest Clans, the Cooter Clan, descendants of Deities, the Empyrean Snappers.
Mystic Grade Cultivation Technique—Mystic Mist Art!