Chapter 146
Kane's POV
I followed Grim through the crevice deep in the mine pit, arriving at the slaves' rest area. The air here was thick with sweat, blood, and despair—a scent far too familiar from my days as a hostage in the Blood River camp.
Steven sat alone in a corner, using torn rags to tend the wounds on his back from the lightning whip. Even in the dim firelight, I could clearly see the crisscrossing bloody welts, some already beginning to ooze pus.
"Steven." I approached him, keeping my voice low.
He looked up, his wary gaze sweeping over Grim and me. "Who are you?"
"Someone who wants to live." I crouched down to meet his eyes. "I saw what you did today. That was brave."
Steven let out a cold laugh and continued treating his wounds. "Brave? In this hellhole, bravery only gets you killed faster."
"What if I told you we have a chance to escape?"
His hands paused for a second before resuming their work.
"Escape? You think you're the first to have that idea?" Steven's voice dripped with mockery. "In the past three years, at least twenty people have tried. Some wanted to dig tunnels, others tried to rush out during shift changes, and some even thought they could bribe the guards."
He turned and pointed toward the stakes on the other side of the square.
"See those posts? Those people's skins were peeled off and hung there for display, left to dry for a whole month. Draven wanted everyone to remember—the fate of those who try to run."
"I'm not here to die," I said calmly.
"Then what are you here for? To feed us pretty lies and hope, then watch us get tortured to death one by one?" Steven suddenly stood up, and despite being covered in wounds, his presence was still imposing. "Get lost, before I turn you over to Draven. Don't drag others down with you."
I didn't move. Instead, I stepped closer.
"What if I told you," my voice was low but clear, "that I'm the son of Ivan Price and Chloe Price?"
The air seemed to freeze.
Steven's expression shifted from shock to fury.
"You dare!" He suddenly lunged forward, his hands locking around my throat. "You dare mock the Thunder Lord's name? You damned—"
I didn't resist. Even as the sensation of suffocation crept in, I simply looked at him quietly.
Then I began a partial shift.
Black fur emerged from my arms—the distinctive color of Blaze.
My eyes turned deep blue—the exact same deep blue as my father Ivan's. The faint echo of thunder rippled through the air.
Steven's hands released.
He staggered backward, staring at me in disbelief, then dropped to his knees with a thud.
"You're really... you're really Ivan Price's child?" His voice choked. "How should I address you..."
Tears streamed down the face of this iron-willed warrior.
His shoulders shook violently, as if he'd finally found an outlet for years of suppressed emotion.
"I thought... I thought I'd never see the bloodline of the Lightning Wolf Pack again..." Steven looked up, his eyes filled with both wild joy and pain. "I've waited for so many years!"
"My name is Kane. Kane Price. Stand up." I helped him to his feet. "Tell me who you are."
Steven took a deep breath, struggling to compose himself.
"I'm the second son of Beta Ethan. That day... the 'Lost Feast,' my father punished me with border patrol duty because I'd quarreled with Young Master Connor." His voice turned bitter. "By the time I returned, the entire Lightning Wolf Pack's manor had become hell. Nothing but ruins remained, and all the noble wolves who attended the feast had vanished..."
He closed his eyes, as if unwilling to recall the scene.
"Later, the Blood River Pack occupied our territory. I wanted to resist, but there were simply too many Blood River soldiers. I was captured and enslaved. All these years, every day I've thought that maybe, one day, there would be a miracle..."
"The miracle has come." I looked at him. "But I need your help."
Steven immediately dropped to one knee.
"Young master, this life of mine should have died alongside my father and brothers. Whatever you need me to do, I won't hesitate!"
"How many are still willing to fight?"
"At least twenty." Steven pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his clothes. "This is a list I've been secretly keeping over the years. They're all former warriors, or descendants of warriors. Though they've been tortured beyond recognition, as long as you give the word—"
"Two days," I interrupted. "We only have two days."
Steven froze for a moment, then nodded firmly. "That's enough."
I unfolded a map—I'd transcribed all the routes Frank had carved into the wall onto this paper. I pointed to the marked trap locations.
"These are the self-destruct devices the Lightning Wolf Pack buried in the old days. If we can activate them—"
"We can collapse the entire mine pit." Steven's eyes lit up.
"Grim." I turned to the silent goblin. "Where's the explosives depot you mentioned?"
Grim pointed tremblingly in a direction.
"At the end of the abandoned eastern tunnel, but there are guards..."
"I'll handle the guards," Steven said. "I know their shift rotation schedule."
For the next two hours, the three of us huddled in the corner, discussing details in low voices.
Steven would contact the former warriors who still had fight left in them, while Grim would organize the goblins to dig traps and set explosives during rest periods.
"Young master," Steven suddenly asked, "do you... do you know anything about the Thunder Lord?"
I was silent for a moment. "My father—he's gone."
Steven's face turned deathly pale. "How... how could..."
"But his will remains." I clenched my fist. "And I will make Blood River pay."
Steven bowed deeply. "We will follow you until the very end."
Just then, a small figure appeared beside me.
Dorothy had somehow approached, her face still bearing traces of terror, but her eyes held a certain stubbornness.
"I want to help too," she said.
"Dorothy, this is too dangerous—"
"I don't want to just be protected." She interrupted me, her voice trembling but resolute. "My grandmother is locked in the death row cells. If I do nothing, she'll die."
I looked at her, reminded of myself in the Blood River hostage camp—equally weak, equally desperate, but equally unwilling to submit.
"Alright," I said. "But you must follow my orders."
Dorothy nodded vigorously.
The horn signaling the end of rest time sounded. Slaves began returning to their respective work areas. Before leaving, Steven said in a voice only we could hear, "Two days from now, young master. We'll be ready."
I watched him disappear into the crowd, then turned to Dorothy. "Come with me."
We returned to the hidden crevice.
Several items lay on the ground—a rusted dagger, a coil of rough rope, and a few pieces of hard, dried bread.
"What's this?" Dorothy asked.
"Survival tools." I picked up the dagger, examining the blade in the dim mine light. "From now on, you need to learn to protect yourself."
"You're going to teach me?"
"Yes." I handed her the dagger. "Hold it tight."
Dorothy's hands trembled, but she still took the dagger.
"First, forget about fair duels," I corrected her grip. "In a place like this, staying alive is the only rule. Aim for the throat, eyes, abdomen—anywhere that can incapacitate your opponent."
I taught her basic stabbing techniques hand-by-hand. Her movements were clumsy, but she learned earnestly. With each swing of the blade, she gritted her teeth, as if fighting her own fear.
"Why are you helping me?" she suddenly asked. "You could escape on your own."
I stopped, looking at her stubborn profile in the dim mine light.
"Because I've seen too many people die," I said calmly. "Too many people die protecting me. If I can help more people survive—even just one more—it's worth it."
Dorothy turned to look at me, an indescribable emotion in her eyes.
"You must have gone through terrible things."
"Yes," I smiled bitterly. "So terrible that I once thought I'd become a monster."
"But you didn't," she said softly. "You're still willing to save people."
We continued practicing in the dim mine light. Her hands gradually stopped trembling, her movements becoming more decisive. When she accurately hit the "vital point" I'd marked for the third time, I felt a touch of relief.
"Good," I said. "Remember this feeling."
Dorothy nodded, then carefully put away the dagger.
Just then, she suddenly moved closer, her body almost pressing against my arm. The cold of the mine pit made her tremble slightly, and I could clearly feel the warmth radiating from her.
"Kane," she said softly. "Thank you."
My heart skipped a beat.
This feeling of being needed, being trusted, reminded me of the Blood River hostage camp so many years ago...
I gently pushed her away.
"Don't get too close. In a place like this, any abnormality could raise suspicion."
Dorothy blushed and quickly stepped back. "Sorry, I just..."
"I know," I interrupted. "But remember, before we escape, staying alive matters more than anything else."
She nodded, a flash of disappointment in her eyes, but it quickly returned to determination.
Two days would pass quickly.
And we would either succeed in destroying this hell, or die here.
There was no third option.