Meanwhile, In the Western Expanse;

Among the scattered islands lost in fog, deep within a mining settlement bound by chains and desperation, a boy struck stone.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Over and over again.

His skin was sun-baked and bruised. His hair, silvery black and damp with sweat. Half his face was burned, and a black eyepatch covered the left side. A cracked black glove covered his right hand.

Others around him whispered.

"That kid again…"

"He doesn't sleep."

"Don't waste your breath. He's a slave like us. Just crazier."

"Rumor says he's done over 60 tons already… in the past couple of weeks"

"Madness. Even if he reaches a thousand, they won't free him. That rule's just bait."

But the boy didn't flinch. He didn't even look up.

He kept chipping away at the crystal wall.

Clang. Clang.

His heartbeat was steady.

His right hand glowed faintly, black lightning energy leaking from under the glove.

Then suddenly—Thrum.

He stopped for a moment.

The pickaxe slipped from his grip. His one good eye flicked upward. His lips parted slightly. "It reacted," he murmured.

A worker beside him scoffed. "What moved?"

The boy didn't answer.

He looked up at a solid ceiling of black rock and whispered a name to himself: "The Devil."

After a brief pause.

"Anyways, I need more pressure," he muttered, sweat dripping from his jaw, raising the pickaxe once again to continue the mining. "More heat. More pain. Just a bit more…"

Suddenly…

"Azrael!"

A chirpy voice rang behind him, high-pitched and stubborn.

He sighed and didn't stop.

"Azraaeeeel! Ugh—you're still doing this?!"

He felt a presence behind him.

Then a small, round shadow blocked his view.

He blinked.

Standing in front of him was a girl, maybe twenty-one, with a ponytail sticking out from under her sweat-drenched cap. Her cheeks were puffed in a mild pout, and she held out a small rice ball in one hand, a water bottle in the other.

"First, eat. You haven't eaten in eighteen hours."

"I said go away," Azrael replied flatly.

She didn't budge. "I said no." She pushed the rice ball toward his face.

Azrael narrowed his eye at her. "You're annoying."

She grinned. "I get that a lot."

Then, unbothered, she dropped down onto a rock next to the wall and sat, crossing her legs and still holding out the food. "You're still growing. You should eat as much as you can."

Azrael's pupils shrank at those words. "This…"

His breath hitched.

For a moment… it wasn't her voice he heard. It was another. Softer. Familiar. A warm laugh in a ruined temple, belonging to a nine-year-old girl. Her hand extended in the same way.

"You're still growing, dummy. Eat. You should eat as much as you can to have more strength, so that we can have a high chance of survival."

"Avia…"

He blinked the memory away.

Silently, he took the rice ball. "Thanks."

She smiled wider. "Good. I win."

They sat together for a while, leaning against the wall in the glowing gloom. Azrael chewed slowly, methodically. The food was dry. But it was… grounding.

Then his gaze dropped, noticing a bruise along her wrist.

She caught him looking and quickly pulled her sleeve down.

"I just… tripped," she mumbled with a forced chuckle. "Clumsy me."

Azrael's gaze sharpened. No matter how he looks at it, it doesn't seem like a bruise that can occur from falling down or some rock scraping the skin.

He didn't say anything right away. But something shifted in his posture. His fingers clenched and his shoulder tensed.

She tried to brush it off. "Don't look at me like that. It's nothing. It happens to everyone here, right?"

Azrael looked at her again. "What's your name?" he asked.

She blinked, a little surprised. "You actually care now?"

He didn't smile.

She softened. "It's Kaelin. But you can call me Maggie."

He nodded slowly. Then, he slowly stood, dropping the empty wrapper beside her. "Thanks for the food."

She smiled, eyes a little wistful. "Anytime."

But just before he left, he glanced at her hand again.

And this time, he said, "If someone's hurting you… tell me."

Kaelin blinked, caught off guard.

Azrael turned away and grabbed the pickaxe again. "I'll break their bones. Even if it delays my freedom."

Then—

CLANG.

Night – Quarters Block D, Sector 9

The clang of steel against crystal had stopped. The corridors of the slave quarters fell into silence, broken only by the occasional groan of aching bodies or the rustle of worn blankets. Most had already collapsed from exhaustion.

Azrael, however, walked back to his sleeping corner with a full cart of raw ore. His shirt clung to him, drenched in sweat. His right hand was blistered. But his eyes still burned with a singular focus.

Until he heard a grunt. A muffled struggle, the voice certainly belonging to a woman.

"Let go of me… please…!"

Azrael's head snapped toward the hallway behind the mess area. It was Maggie

Without hesitation, he dropped the cart and rushed around the corner.

And there he saw Maggie pinned to the wall. A guard's body pressed tightly against her. One hand gripping her wrist. The other curled around her jaw.

Maggie had turned her face away, lips pressed shut in disgust, trying to twist away—but the guard only leaned in closer.

Azrael's vision went red in anger, at once. "HEY!"

The guard didn't even get to turn, and Azrael was already there.

CRASH.

His fist collided with the man's temple—hard. The guard flew back like a ragdoll and skidded across the floor.

Before he could recover, Azrael stormed over, grabbed his collar, and hoisted him up with one arm.

"Touch her again…" Azrael growled, voice low and dangerous, "and I'll break every f***ing bone in your body."

Gasps rang out behind them. Other miners had emerged, drawn by the commotion. No one moved. No one dared to speak either.

Meanwhile, the guard's face turned red with fury. "You dare lay your hands on me, you little sh*t?!"

Azrael snarled, "We might be slaves, but we're not yours. We belong to the mine owner. You're just a mutt with keys. So, behave like the loyal dog, you are."

"You fuc*ing sh..."