«Guilt and empathy are vestigial emotions, evolutionary relics forged in the crucible of early human tribalism.»

«Guilt functioned as an internal regulator, deterring acts that might fracture group cohesion, while empathy served as a social adhesive, binding individuals through shared emotional resonance.»

«These traits emerged from necessity: our ancestors, frail and vulnerable, relied on collective survival. Cooperation enhanced reproductive success, but that is incidental to the broader truth: these instincts are now irrelevant...»

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There was no denying it, he was in a volcano and he was zoning out.

But despite the heat, he felt fine, comfortable even, like a certain energy in the air was welcoming him.

"Move!" The soldier ordered again, clearly unfazed by the change in temperature; he seemed peeved by the way Mr. Valen stood staring into thin air.

They went deeper, and with every step, the heat increased, but what should have been deeply uncomfortable for him almost seemed pleasurable, like warm water on a cold day.

"Why do I feel so good?" Mr. Valen muttered to himself. One must understand that the temperature was around a staggering 200°F, and yet he still felt warm.

It was abnormal.

"Hm," the soldier who accompanied him suddenly scoffed, his green eyes narrowing within his helmet. "You are lucky, you are a Wizard of the green moon, we are naturally resistant to high temperatures."

His words were followed by a forceful shove, underscoring his unwillingness to engage in further conversation.

"Tang!"

"Tang!"

"Tang!"

Mr. Valen suddenly heard sounds, loud, deafening clangs that shook his core. Suddenly, "Wait!" the guard pulled him back.

"Shiiiii!"

Mr. Valen then heard the sound of pressure being released and suddenly his surroundings felt hotter, too hot even for him.

Somehow, he knew that even with his perks as a green-eyed Wizard, that would have burned him.

They resumed walking.

The collisions still sounded out in the distance, but it was now accompanied by faint grunts, and upon drawing closer, Mr. Valen saw for the first time.

The light did not stem from fungi, such lifeforms could not survive in this heat. Rather, it stemmed from the same force that prevented fungal growth.

Flowing through, and even spilling from the cracks of the jagged stone walls, molten lava cast a reddish tint in the volcanic cave, heating the rocks as it passed.

Mr. Valen found it difficult to breathe, the fumes searing his chest. His expression contorted in pain, for the soles of his feet were bare against the hot rock.

But he was never injured, as long as he didn't touch the lava and was careful with his steps.

At that moment, they had finally arrived at the source of the constant clanging and by now Mr. Valen was breathing laboriously.

Before him were rows upon rows of green-eyed Wizards/Witches hacking away at crystallized minerals embedded in the wall.

Every strike bred sparks that illuminated the cave for a fleeting moment, highlighting the pained expressions of the captives.

After they managed to retrieve a piece of mineral they would toss it in a large iron bowl behind them.

On their necks were large iron chains, some red-hot, searing skin, but the slaves endured.

«I can't see any outside supervisor, but judging by their yield and the rate at which they mine, they have been working for quite some time.»

"Come," Mr. Valen was then grabbed by the arm and pulled to a free section of the cave, where he was given a chain of his own.

"Work!" The guard threw three pickaxes towards him and said while pointing towards the bowl. "Fill this by the week's end, or you'll be punished."

With that he walked away, the firm tread of his footsteps prompting Mr. Valen to release a breath. 'How disciplined.'

Turning to his left, Mr. Valen saw a young man hacking away, his glowing green eyes almost soulless, his black hair burnt slightly.

He was soiled, with patches of ash and soot coating his skin and clothes, the same could be said for the woman on his right.

Her long hair was a mess, her glowing green eyes staring soullessly as she hacked away. Her clothes were torn in places, revealing bruises: marks on her skin, (marks that spoke of sexual abuse.)

The atmosphere was miserable, the people were miserable, but Mr. Valen did not feel pity; to him, it was an inevitability.

This is how you would end up if you were weak, if you could not claw your way up.

«The only way to survive is to be the strongest, the one in control, the one with the power.»

"Good sir, I am not familiar with the process. Can you talk me through this?" Mr. Valen asked politely, referring to the soulless man on his left, but he was met with no response.

Shrugging, he turned to his left and repeated. "Hello, good madam, I am not-"

"SHUT UP NEW KID!" One of the older men who was working shouted in annoyance.

"DO WE LOOK LIKE WE'RE IN THE BLOODY MOOD FOR CHATTER?!"

"Why'd you say anything, old Joe, I wanted the idiot to keep speaking to himself, fucking imbecile," the lady by his right spoke.

«So they are not completely without will, fascinating.»

With a breath Mr. Valen picked up a pickaxe and positioned to strike a piece of mineral he saw protruding out of the wall.

"Wait, don't-" the man by his left tried to stop him, but it was already too late.

"Crack!" A cracking sound mixed with a bang could be heard as the iron pickaxe shattered immediately, pieces of it striking Mr. Valen, cutting into his chest and slitting his cheek.

"Argh," Mr. Valen groaned slightly, his brows furrowed in pain as he removed the pieces of iron that had pierced his chest.

"An injury already, better burn it or you won't last a month," the old man laughed.

"I've seen a guy go blind from that same mistake," another laughed.

Meanwhile, the man on his left just shook his head. "You don't strike the minerals directly; some of them have reflective properties. Instead, you strike the rocks bounding the mineral to try and get it out without hitting it."

"Ah," Mr. Valen nodded in understanding before asking. "Don't we have a supervisor or a watcher?"

"No," the man muttered before saying, "they don't care what we do as long as our bowl is full by the end of the week, but it's difficult to meet the quota if you don't focus."

"Why don't you two just kiss and get it over with?" The girl on his right muttered in annoyance, but was ignored.

The man, on the other hand, smiled weakly, his breath shallow. "I'm Dynatós, you can ask anything, I'm also here... if you wish to talk, I know how hard it can be."

«Such blinding niceness, he's like the male version of Sophia, is there an ulterior motive?»

"Hmm," Mr. Valen nodded while picking up a pickaxe, his grip firm as he struck, with force, not the crystal but the stone beside it.

"Bang!"

A loud bang could be heard as the crystal popped out prompting Mr. Valen to raise a brow.

His efforts attracted the attention of the people around him watching as he harvested another protruding stone from the wall

«This mining thing doesn't seem to be as hard as they suggested.»

'That was easy, and I held back too,' Mr. Valen thought with a frown. 'I know I'm physically stronger because of my monster DNA but they are Wizards too.. It appears that I had underestimated the extent of my own strength."

"Bang!"

Mr. Valen struck again, this time cutting deeper into the rock exposing even more minerals.

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

The man struck and struck, and in under a few minutes, he was done, his bowl was full.

The other slaves stared as if they had just seen a ghost.

"How did you do that?" the man on his left asked with widened eyes, his voice trembling.

The girl at his right also took a pause, taking a gulp before asking. "Sir... please... could you... help me?"

"Hah! You lot are lucky! I wish he were closer to me!" The old man groaned before muttering. "In all my years, I have never seen a green-eyed Wizard with such physical strength. Our kind is known for being resilient and destructive when it comes to flame magic, but not physically strong."

Ignoring the woman to his right, Mr. Valen suddenly crouched, sifting through the dirt and debris he had created.

The people in the cave observed him furtively as they worked, curious as to what this oddity was up to now.

Mr. Valen, after going through the rubble for a while, found what he was looking for: two thin pieces of iron that had broken off from his former pickaxe.

He then inserted them into the keyhole, twisted, and... "Clink!" (The lock fell to the ground.)

"Are you... are you planning to rebel?" The old man stammered, his eyes narrowed.

To his question, Mr. Valen walked towards him, his form menacing in the dark.

"I will be back, do not attempt to report my absence," Mr. Valen intoned, his voice low as he loomed over the old man. "If you do so, I will not kill you, but I will torture you, and trust me, I can keep you alive longer than your captors, old man."

"Ha," the old man rasped, his breath shaking a little as he said. "I-I'm not afraid of you-"

"Is that so," Mr. Valen muttered, the whites in his eyes darkening visibly as he leaned in. "Then try me."

At the sight of this bizarre transformation, the old man felt his heart pound, his eyes widening as he thought. 'Who is this man?'

With that, Mr. Valen walked away, deeper into the cave, but as he passed Dynatós, the man's voice halted him. "Can you help me mine before you leave? At this rate, I may not be able to fill my bowl before the end of the week."

At Dynatós' words, Mr. Valen stood, seemingly in deep thought, his eyes locked on the man before him.

«In a world where power dictates outcomes, why shackle oneself to archaic sentiment? Moral qualms are the indulgences of those who lack the will to transcend them. To harm or exploit is neither good nor evil, it is simply a means. The only metric that endures is victory.»

Noting the way Mr. Valen stared down at him, (that impassive gaze), Dynatós pleaded. "Please... Will you help me?"

"No," Mr. Valen stated, his tone flat, his face expressionless as he walked away until...

"Wait, I know something that might interest you," Dynatós said desperately, his tone pleading.

His words prompted Mr. Valen to stop in his tracks, a small smile gracing his face. "Now why didn't you say that from the beginning?"

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