Routine

The days passed quickly, like a wave that came onto the shore, signaling the day, and returned back to the sea, signaling the night. Time did its thing, along with Hubert and Ron.

Eight days since they had came to the parish, a week since they were marked by the slave's mark of the Church of Vision, and six days since they started training.

Their once free life had turned into a cycle of work, eat, rest repeated.

The two of them were always the two of them, occasionally accompanied by Robert at their sleep and dinner time. But even then, they have always been a pair since they came here.

Hubert that gained attention of all kind of slaves, nervous and cautious alike, and Ron that had always been quiet in his every action. The two of them were in their own world.

Every day, after the tiring and long work hours and dinner, the only thing that acted as their brief moment of relaxation, the two made their way toward their usual place.

With their muscles used during the great and vigorous labor, hefting shovels of mana stone into the carriage. Along with the workout, they did, pushups, sit-ups, and running around in laps. These exercises allowed them to gradually and slowly rebuild their strength, dexterity and stamina.

At least, that's what they did in the last 6 days.

Hubert stood straight and upright, patiently bided for an order from his teacher, Ron. Though still skinny, Hubert's body became more toned and his muscles visibly improved from the hardship he suffered through.

"Watch…" Ron said.

This evening was different, the usual words that came out of Ron's lips: pushup, sit-up, run—were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Ron grabbed a shovel a nearby and firmed his grip over it.

He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath of the refreshing wind, filled with the scent of plants and dust. He clenched the shovel, now with both of his hands, and placed it in front of him, like a sword.

His eyelids were then raised, to which he looked at the sky. He lifted up his shovel high up, directing his sight to a tree a hundred steps away.

Like the night he defeated the bagman, like a swordman pointing at the moon with his sword, instead this time, a shovel.

He struck down using the shovel, its edge became the cutting weapon, akin to cleaving the moon in two. A visible energy was made, shaped like a crescent moon, flying through the air at an unreal speed, bringing shockwaves of wind to those around, making hair and beard alike stood.

Shwing!

The tree in the far distance was split in the middle, some of its branches fell, along with its leaves, not long after.

Crash

The tree fell to the ground, reuniting with where it was born. Bringing with it a harsh thud that echoed through the woods behind it. A violent cloud of dust appeared, blocking anyone's sight from it.

A nearby squirrel watched, dropping its nut to the ground, and jumped away farther from the place.

Hubert's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, surprised by the sudden powerful and devastating strike made by just a shovel. Its dull and overworked edge, usually used as a tool in the hands of worker, became a weapon in Ron's hand.

"Ho-how..?" Hubert stuttered.

"Practice," Ron responded, toneless as he always was.

Though this time, it was visible that the strike took a significant amount of his energy. His quick breath and sweat that trickled down his forehead gave it away. His hand slightly trembled as he weakened the clench of the shovel.

"Now… Push up," Ron continued. Hubert's routine continued.

---

The ground slightly vibrated underfoot as Anna and her faithful follower, Henry walked through the hallway of stone, toward a room at the end. Their gaze looked out of the window, away from the setting sun.

"What was that?" Anna remarked, her voice sharp as always.

"I don't know, my priestess," Henry responded.

"Then go find out!" she said, her tone even sharper and snappier.

Henry bowed, then he jumped out of the window located in the third story.

The sound of steps continued filling the desolate hallway as Anna made her way into the room.

She entered the room, where a man of gray hair, though covered partially by a miter, looked out the open window. His pure white cape and robe touched the floor. His eyes were weak and his skin pale, his face wrinkling as time consumed him.

The room filled with furniture, including a table which had a lot of papers on top of it, accompanied with a quill and its ink, a padded wooden chair. A large bookshelf full of books and a pot of big pot of plant half as large as a well's mouth sat on the corners.

"Anna…" the man called, his authoritative voice faint and weak.

"Bishop," Anna said, her knee on the cold, stony floor.

"Tristan…"

Cough

His words interrupted by a sudden, hoarse cough of his own.

"Sent you here?" the man asked.

"Yes, Sir Tristan sends his regard," Anna said, her usual harsh and piercing tone replaced by one of softness and humble.

"Yes, yes…"

"Though he's confused of why a bishop of your caliber, troubled merely by the presence of some insects," Anna asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

"…" silent filled the room as the man continued watching the drowning sun.

"Lance paladin… My past nickname… Haha…"

Cough cough

His laughter interrupted by his gradually intensifying coughs.

"Those ants, they are nothing by my power! But… their queen is smart,"

Cough! Cough! Cough!

The bishop covered his mouth with his hand, a liquid came out of it. He looked with worrying and frightful eyes, green blood stained his shaky pale hand.

"Poison?" Anna asked.

"Unfortunate, but it happened," the bishop confirmed.

"Tomorrow is the day," Anna mentioned.

"…"

---

"Sleep time! Sleep time!" the familiar voice of the guard called.

"One hundred eighty seven…" Ron's count cut short by the guard.

Hubert's muscles ached, joints stiffened and his mind disoriented from the regular battle of determination and yielding. The two finished their routine and made their way to their quarter.

"It's so tiring today!" Hubert proudly exclaimed.

"Hubert… Not weak," Ron responded.

Upon hearing Ron's word, a wide smile filled Hubert's excited face as his eyes widened, like seeing an entirely new future ahead of him.

Meanwhile, at their usual training place, Henry quietly landed. Not even a single speck of dust blown up by his landing.

"Weird… I think it was here," Henry questioned, looking at around the place, examining the pile of mana stones and then toward the split tree a hundred steps away.

"Hmm," Henry dashed to the tree with an unbelievable speed.

"Interesting…" He muttered to himself, his finger poking at the cleanly split wood.

Back with Hubert and Ron, they reached the hall in which they slept. There, Robert sat at their usual place, welcoming them with a friendly wave and vibrant smile.

"Hey, Robert," Hubert said, his voice upright and assertive.

"How did it go?" Robert asked curiously.

His gaze, like always, surprised by Hubert's state of body, where sweat and dirt mingled with each other and attached themselves on Hubert's skin.

"It went well," Hubert responded. His slightly disdainful voice had been going since the day Robert abandoned him.

Though forgiven, his mind simply couldn't bare the memories weighing down on his mind. But Hubert still tried his best and maintained a good friendship with Robert by initiating conversation, asking questions and eating together.

"Sleep…" Ron muttered.

His back fell first to the thin layer of hay covering the ground where he slept. In a matter of seconds, his eyes closed, his breathing relaxed and his body, still.

Hubert's chest made contact with the ground, then he closed his eyes too and soft snore came out.

"…" Robert blankly stared at them, then laid down. Though the incident happened days ago, guilt and regret still clouded his mind as he looked at them like a father that had disappointed his son.

"I'm sorry," Robert muttered, before closing his eyes as well.

The sun came and went and returned as fast as it desired. A chicken crowed, taking the initiative as the teller of time. The slaves went as their usual day, waking up, being called upon by a monk, and being guided to their workplace by a parade of guards.

Robert parted ways with Hubert and Ron. He grabbed his metal pickaxe and went deep inside the long tunnels of the mines with his fellow miners. His huge build occasionally bumped into the wooden support that kept the mine from collapsing.

Deeper as they went, the boring and empty passageway gradually became larger and filled with a large deposit of manastone. Where its glow in the dark glinted in their eyes and the wall of carts, used to deliver them above.

There, Robert started his work. The metal of his pickaxe made contact with the mana stone planted on the hard ground repeatedly. The sound of metal filled the cave.

Clink

Clink

Clink

The sound echoed. Robert's pickaxe like a small speck in the crowd of many.

Clink

"Eh, what's this?" Robert asked himself. His body bended forward, trying to make clear of the thing he hit. It wasn't the usual hard rock or glowing mana stones, instead, a round ruby-like gem that gleamed.

It was the first time he saw this, his curiosity began to take control. His dulled pickaxe repeatedly aimed at that one place.

After repeated mining, the ruby-like gem was discovered to be attached to a larger structure with a metal-like surface.

Rumble

The ground suddenly shook near Robert. Then it leaped out, scraping the earth around as it did. A dull thudding sound, replacing the clinking sound of pickaxes, could be heard as it landed with its legs.

The gem-like object proved to be its eye, attached to the metal-like surface that turned out to be its head. Its antler was as long as a human's arm, and its body as huge as a carriage.

An ant.