Arcane-Shattering time

The monthly checkups were the worst. It wasn't about keeping people healthy or safe. It was about keeping the machine running. Sick, injured, or weak workers couldn't mine, haul, or fix anything—and what good were broken slaves when healthy ones were easier to exploit? So, like clockwork, the guards lined everyone up and inspected them for any sign they couldn't pull their weight.

Miners, mechanics, kids—they all stood in rows under the harsh fluorescent lights while medics and guards examined them like cattle. I got to skip it, lucky me. Working in the mechanical department had a few perks, and avoiding these humiliating rituals was one of them. Instead, I hung back near the shadows, keeping my head low. Better to stay out of sight.

That's when I noticed him.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. He shuffled into line like the others, shoulders slightly hunched, making no effort to resist the inspection. His body language was quiet yet firm and strong. But something about him stood out—his broad frame, the way his arms moved, the distinct curve of his ears. His blue skin. Then he turned slightly, and I caught the unmistakable shape of his face, his sharp features, and leathery ears.

A Chirean. Half-bat, half-man.

My heart stopped. I blinked, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if it was really him. But it was. Scar.

It had been ages. I almost felt like crying, yet I held it in. During my time working in this mining colony, I had been stuck in the workstation or my own cell, eating and drinking in isolation. I didn't have time to look closely at each worker. I wished I had.

I couldn't believe it. In my original timeline, Scar was a Firelight—one of my closest allies, a friend I'd trusted with my life. He was strong, loyal, and unshakable, a survivor who'd helped me through more fights than I could count. And now he was here, just another miner in this hellhole, bound and beaten like the rest of us.

I wanted to call out to him, but I held back. The guards kept us in our assigned roles, and stepping out of line was a good way to get yourself punished—or worse. Scar was a miner now, and I was in the tinker's department. Even if I tried to talk to him, they wouldn't let me get close. But I needed to. I couldn't just ignore him.

At lunch, I told myself. I'll find him then.

Scar was more than just a familiar face. His bat-like features gave him a huge advantage in the mines. While others fumbled in the dark with broken headlamps, he could see clearly. The narrow tunnels and suffocating darkness didn't bother him. That's why he was the best miner here, and if anyone could help me figure out a way to survive—or even escape—it was him.

But before I could finalize my plan, the sound of a scuffle yanked my attention back to the inspection line.

A small figure darted forward, breaking away from the guards. It was the new girl, the one who'd arrived just the other day. She couldn't have been older than twelve, with messy brown hair and sharp amber eyes. I'd noticed her earlier, the way she watched everything around her, like she was waiting for the right moment to run. It was a foolish thing to think in this type of place, but she was just a kid.

Apparently, she thought now was that moment.

She shoved one of the guards hard enough to make him stumble and bolted toward the edge of the cavern. It was a gutsy move, but it didn't last long. The guard recovered quickly, running to close the gap in seconds. He grabbed her by the arm and threw her to the ground like she was nothing.

"Stupid brat," he snarled. He reached for his whip, then paused. A cruel grin spread across his face as he let the whip fall back to his side. "You think you can run?"

The girl scrambled to her feet, her fists clenched, but she didn't stand a chance. The guard cracked his knuckles, stepping closer with a deliberate slowness that made my stomach turn.

"Stop!" The word was out of my mouth before I realized I'd said it.

Everything froze. The workers, the guards, even the girl—they all turned to look at me.

"I…" I stammered. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know why I shouted.

"She's just a child," I said, louder this time. "Don't hurt her."

The guard raised an eyebrow, then grinned wider. "You want to play hero, tinkerer? Fine. You want me to stop? Then take her punishment. Let's see how brave you really are."

Before I could respond, they grabbed me and hauled me to the center of the cavern, tying my hands to a post they regularly used for punishments. The workers murmured among themselves, their voices low and confused. I could feel their eyes on me, but I focused on the ground, on keeping my breathing steady.

Why was I doing this? I barely knew the girl. But when I looked at her—at the fire in her eyes, the same fire I'd seen so many times before—I couldn't stand the thought of it being snuffed out. She reminded me of someone, someone I'd lost in my original timeline. Maybe that was it. Or maybe I just couldn't let them crush her spirit the way they'd crushed so many others.

The first punch snapped me out of my thoughts. The guard's fist slammed into my ribs, sharp and brutal.

One punch.

Two.

By the fifth, I could taste blood, but I bit my tongue, refusing to cry out.

Six. Seven. Eight.

Nine punches was the usual limit, but they weren't stopping. The guard smirked, clearly enjoying himself. This wasn't punishment anymore—they were making an example of me.

Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

I focused on the faces in the crowd. The workers looked pale, horrified. Even the guards seemed uneasy, like they hadn't expected me to last this long without begging for mercy.

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

I wasn't sure how I was still standing. My legs shook, my vision blurred, and every breath felt like fire. But I didn't fall. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Sixteen. Seventeen.

Eighteen. Nineteen.

Finally, twenty. The guard stepped back, panting slightly. The cavern was silent, the air heavy with shock.

They untied me, and I stumbled forward, catching myself before I hit the ground. My ribs felt like they were caving in, but I forced myself to stand tall. I wouldn't let them see weakness.

As they dragged me away, I caught a glimpse of the girl. She was still kneeling on the ground, her wide amber eyes locked on mine. There was something strange in her expression—something like admiration. Maybe even hope.

I didn't know why, but it felt important. Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn't all for nothing.