Chapter 147
Kane's POV
The next day, during the brief window of the miners' shift change, I gathered the twenty core fighters with Steven in the shadows.
Most of them were surviving warriors of the Lightning Wolf Pack, or their descendants. The years had left more than just scars on them—there was a violence that had been suppressed for far too long. After Steven quietly confirmed my identity, the look in their eyes burned with something close to madness—the enslaved's hunger for freedom, and their thirst for revenge.
I spread out the hand-drawn map of the mine pit, keeping my voice low. "Time won't wait for us. We need to move fast. Listen carefully—these positions here—" I marked several key points on the map. "These are strategic chokepoints in the mine. Once the uprising begins, Blood River soldiers will flood in through the main tunnels. We need to set traps at these locations beforehand to slow their advance."
Steven nodded. "Understood. I'll arrange for people to work in shifts, so we don't draw suspicion."
Over the next few hours, we began setting traps at various chokepoints throughout the mine. Steven's men used gaps in the patrol schedules to dig defensive positions at key tunnel entrances, pile up rubble barriers, and plant sharpened stakes in the shadows.
Grim led the goblins in smuggling out fragments of explosive crystals, hiding them in what looked like ordinary slag heaps.
Just as I was checking the camouflage on one trap, a patrolling Blood River overseer suddenly stopped, looking suspiciously toward a corner—where two warriors were pretending to haul ore while actually setting a trap mechanism.
Damn it. I had to divert his attention immediately.
I took a deep breath and suddenly charged at the nearest slave, punching him in the face. He fell with a scream. The crowd around us erupted into chaos as I roared and lunged at my "opponent," the two of us grappling and creating a scene of confusion.
"Stop it!" The overseer, his attention caught, strode over with his whip raised. "You filthy slaves—do you want to die?"
The whip struck my back, searing pain spreading across my skin, but I gritted my teeth and kept up the act of struggling in fury. The overseer cursed as he separated us, lashing us a few more times before stalking away.
Once he was gone, I got up from the ground and exchanged a glance with my "opponent"—the trap was set.
By dusk, Grim brought news.
"Lord Kane." He kept his voice low, eyes gleaming with excitement. "We used our small size to smuggle out enough explosive crystals. And—" He paused, as if gathering his words. "We've dug through to an abandoned ventilation shaft that leads to the surface."
My heart jumped. I immediately followed him to inspect it.
The entrance to the ventilation shaft was hidden deep in an abandoned mine tunnel, narrow enough that I had to turn sideways to squeeze through. I lit a torch and climbed up the cramped passage. The walls were rough, covered in sharp rock protrusions that would cut skin at the slightest misstep.
After about ten minutes of climbing, I saw faint starlight filtering down from above.
I pushed aside the camouflage at the shaft's opening and peered out—this was a barren patch of land on the mine's outskirts, about fifty meters from the nearest watchtower.
The terrain was well-hidden. It was indeed an ideal breakout point.
But then I realized the problem.
The ventilation shaft was too narrow. I'd struggled to climb it sideways—how would the weak slaves, the elderly, and the children get through? And once the explosions started, there would be no time in the chaos for hundreds of people to queue up and slowly crawl out.
We'd have twenty minutes at most before Blood River reinforcements arrived.
I retreated back down the shaft, my mood heavy.
"Well?" Grim looked at me expectantly.
"The passage itself is good," I said honestly. "But it can only fit one person at a time, and it's slow. For hundreds of weak slaves and the elderly and infirm to get through would take at least two hours. We don't have that kind of time."
Grim's face fell.
I returned to our hiding spot, spread out the map, and fell into thought.
If we relied only on the ventilation shaft for evacuation, we could save half the people at most—those who still had the strength to fight. The rest of the elderly and infirm would either be trapped in the collapsed mine and suffocate, or be slaughtered by the Blood River reinforcements.
I stared at the map, trying to find any possible second route.
Anxiety gripped my throat like an invisible hand. I thought of the companions who had died before my eyes...
I remembered what Ella had once said to me: "You say you want to protect everyone, but you couldn't even protect me."
I didn't want to repeat that tragedy.
I didn't want to watch those who trusted me die one by one in front of me.
"Kane." Dorothy's timid voice interrupted my thoughts.
I looked up to see her standing in the corner, holding a copy of the map. She hesitated, then carefully approached, pointing to a dotted line on the map that I'd overlooked.
"This path..." she said quietly, uncertainty in her voice. "Isn't this the one you used to bring Frank and me in here?"
I froze, then leaned closer to the map.
That dotted line marked the location of the secret passage connected to Frank's old wolf den. When we'd been fleeing pursuers, I'd brought them into the mine through that tunnel. Though parts of it had collapsed, it had originally been built as a residential passage for miners—wide enough for two or three people to walk side by side.
"Yes!" I shot to my feet, grabbing Dorothy's shoulders. "You're right! That secret passage! If we can clear that entrance, we'll have a dual evacuation route!"
Dorothy jumped at my sudden excitement, but then smiled shyly.
I quickly adjusted the tactical plan.
After the uprising began, the able-bodied fighters would use the ventilation shaft to raid the surface guards, drawing fire and controlling the ground-level exit. The elderly, women, and children would evacuate through Frank's secret passage, heading directly to the hidden areas deep in Thunder Canyon.
"This way, we'll have two routes," I told Steven. "The fighters will attack through the ventilation shaft, buying time for the vulnerable. Meanwhile, the elderly and children will evacuate through the secret passage, avoiding the main battlefield."
Steven was silent for a moment, then nodded firmly. "That's the best plan we have."
In the deep night before the uprising, the only sounds in the depths of the mine were dripping water and the scrape of blade against stone.
I sat in a corner, focused on sharpening the rusted dagger against a whetstone. The blade gleamed coldly in the firelight as I carefully wound strips of cloth around the rough handle, loop after loop, making sure Dorothy wouldn't blister her palms when she used it.
I knew that tomorrow I would fight as a wolf—this blade would be useless to me. But for Dorothy, it might be her only lifeline.
Dorothy approached with half a piece of dry bread and sat down beside me. She watched me wrap the handle, her expression complex.
"Here." I handed her the finished dagger. "When things go crazy tomorrow, don't let anyone get close to you. If you see danger, use this."
Dorothy took the dagger, her hands trembling slightly as if receiving a talisman.
She looked up, tears glistening in her eyes. "Will you die?"
I looked at her without offering cheap comfort.
"I'll stand in front of you," I said calmly. "As long as I'm standing, all you need to do is watch my back."
She bit her lip and nodded hard, clutching the dagger to her chest.
In the distance, a low horn sounded—Draven's scheduled execution assembly call.
Dawn was approaching.
I stood, feeling something awaken inside me. Steven and Grim nodded to me from the shadows—they were ready.
I whispered to myself:
For my father.
For everyone.