Unbroken

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, though its warmth barely touched the room's corners. The events of the night before replayed in my mind: the beast, the crack, Satoshi, the soldiers. Each memory was sharper than the last, cutting into my thoughts.

Footsteps approached. I looked up as Satoshi entered, his expression weary but calmer than it had been. His arm and torso were bandaged, though he didn’t seem slowed by the injury. He sat across from me, lowering himself into the chair. Neither of us spoke at first. Then, with a deep sigh, he broke the silence.

“You scared me last night, Renjiro.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “I—”

“I know you’re curious,” he continued, holding a hand to stop me. “You’ve always been that way. Always wanting to see what’s beyond the mountains. But the world isn’t what you think it is. It’s dangerous. Unforgiving. You saw that yourself.”

I nodded, guilt settling in my chest. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Satoshi interrupted, “And I’m not here to scold you. But you need to understand something, Renjiro. This place… it’s safe. It’s your home. And it gives us purpose. The forge, the people—we serve the kingdom, and that’s how we survive. Everything you need is here.”

His words weighed on me, but they didn’t silence the restlessness gnawing at my thoughts. “Safe? Purpose? Was it purpose when they forced you to the ground and made you call yourself dirt?"

Satoshi hesitated, his jaw tightening. “That’s how it is, Renjiro. This is our way of life. What we do here, the work we put in, it matters. It keeps people fed, armed, and protected. Without it, we’d have nothing.”

I leaned forward, “But what if there’s more out there? Everyone here just… accepts this. They don’t even question if there’s something beyond these mountains. Something better.”

Satoshi leaned back, “Maybe there is, but it’s not for us to find. Dedicate yourself to the craft. Help the people who need you and care for you. That’s your role. That’s how you make your life mean something.”

Satoshi looked at me for a long moment before standing. The chair scraped against the floor as he pushed it back. “I need to clear my head for a bit. Head over to the forge before any Overseers come for inspections.”

As he left the room, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling. The guilt still weighed heavily on my chest, but it didn’t silence the questions. No matter how hard I tried, that restless spark refused to die. Even so, Satoshi was right. This was my home. It gave me purpose, and for that, I was grateful.

As I entered the forge, the rhythmic clang of hammers against anvils filled the air. Apprentices moved about, their focus unwavering as they shaped steel into tools and weapons. I headed to my station as the forge's heat wrapped around me like an old, familiar coat.

I picked up the hammer, letting its weight settle in my hand. The half-formed blade from yesterday lay on the anvil, its edges rough and unrefined. With a deep breath, I raised the hammer and brought it down, sparks dancing.

I set the hammer down, stepping back from the anvil. My hand moved instinctively to my pocket, brushing against the cloth I’d found. I hesitated, pulling it out cautiously, ensuring no guards were around. The blue crest caught the light, its intricate patterns as mesmerizing as ever. I traced the lines with my fingers, but then a memory surfaced—the markings in the crack. Were they similar?

The realization hit me like a hammer strike. This wasn’t just a coincidence.

Later that afternoon, I slipped out of the forge, carefully avoiding the Overseers patrolling the streets. My heart pounded with every step, but the thought of meeting with Kaelan outweighed the risk.  The farther I moved from the forge, the clearer the divide in the kingdom became. 

Passing through the lower quarter, the air was heavy with the noise of labor. The clang of pickaxes and scraping of shovels filled my ears as Doro-ashi worked under the watchful eyes of the Overseers. Their bodies were bent and frail from exhaustion and malnourishment, mining and digging into the earth for ores. I tried not to stare, but it was hard to look away.  These were less fortunate than me, who had no trade, resources, or shelter for their work. The forged was a sanctuary compared to them. And yet... was it really Or just a disguised cage?

By the time I reached the upper side of the kingdom, the oppressive air felt lighter, filled with the aroma of perfumes and oils being sold nearby. The streets were cleaner, and the noise was replaced by the chatter of merchants and buyers as soft melodies played on flutes and stringed instruments. 

The world felt entirely different here. Children ran through the streets, laughing as they played with small wooden toys or chased one another. People in fine tunics and robes strolled with an easy grace, their smiles bright and carefree. Couples walked arm in arm, pausing to browse the market stalls for bolts of silk or trinkets.

 Everywhere I looked, there was color—banners draped across the stalls, bright flowers arranged in clay pots, and vibrant patterns woven into the merchants’ fabrics.

It always felt almost unreal, like stepping into a story of fantasy. But as beautiful as it was, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of its indifference. These people didn’t spare a thought for the laborers in the pits or the forge. Why would they?  The marketplace wasn’t a place for people like me—Doro-ashi weren’t meant to linger here or wander freely. Kaelan could move where he pleased and always chose the market for our meetings.

I spotted him near a stall selling silks. His arms crossed, he pretended to examine a piece of cloth. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of me, and motioned for me to follow him down a quieter alley.

When I reached him, Kaelan leaned against the wall, his expression uneasy. “Took you long enough. I thought they caught you,” he said,

I shrugged. “You worried about me, huh? Didn't think you cared that much.”

Kaelan hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Look, last night… I should’ve said something. Done something. The way they treated Satoshi—it wasn’t right.”

I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “It’s not your fault, Kaelan. It's not like you could have changed their minds anyway.”

“No.” He frowned. “I stood just there and did nothing. I could’ve stopped it earlier.”

“You did what you could,” I said, though the memory of Satoshi’s humiliation still stung. “But if you’re feeling guilty, maybe you can help me with something.”

Kaelan raised an eyebrow. “Help you with what?”

I pulled the cloth from my pocket and handed it to him. 

He turned it over, “The cloth from the woods. What about it?”

“The patterns,” I said. “They’re the same as the markings I saw in the crack last night.”

Kaelan squinted at the cloth, tracing the faint design with his fingers. “You’re serious?”

“I’m sure of it,” I said. “I need to see it again. To figure out what it means.”

“Renjiro, you can't be serious? After what happened last night, do you actually want to go back? You saw what’s out there—what nearly killed us. And after everything with Satoshi…”

“I have to,” I interrupted. I need to be sure I saw what I saw. I can’t explain it, but I need to go.”

Kaelan glanced around the alley, then leaned closer. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Or worse. If anyone finds out we’re sneaking out again, you know what they’ll do.”

“I know. But I have to do this.”

Kaelan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He shoved the cloth back into my hands. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But if we run into that thing again, you're alone."

Eventually, we reached the spot. Or at least, I thought we had. The rock face stood solid and unbroken, with no sign of the crack I’d squeezed through the night before.

Kaelan tilted his head. “So… are you sure you didn’t imagine it?”

“It was here,” I insisted, touching the stone. “I know it was.”

Kaelan chuckled. “Maybe the beast scared you so bad you started seeing things. Or hit your head on the way in.”

I ignored him, pressing my ear to the rock as if it might whisper the answer. Nothing. The crack was gone as if it had never existed.

When I returned home that night, sleep evaded me as questions gnawed at me. After finishing my duties at the forge the next morning, I decided to act. Grabbing a hammer, I returned to the mountain, my mind set on breaking through the rock.

I raised the hammer, gripping its handle tightly, but it felt unbalanced in my hands. The first swing sent a jarring vibration through my arms, pain shooting up to my shoulders. The rock didn’t even chip. This time, I tried harder, but I stumbled backward and lost my footing.

Gritting my teeth, I steadied myself and took another swing. The hammer slipped from my sweaty grip, clanging against the ground. My frustration boiled over, and I cursed under my breath. My hands stung from the repeated effort. Each failed strike felt like the mountain was mocking me.

After several fruitless attempts, I slumped against the cold stone, exhausted. This wasn’t going to work.

I lay in my small room that night, staring at the ceiling. My fingers itched for a solution. If brute force wasn’t enough, there had to be another way. I grabbed a piece of parchment and began sketching. At first, my drawings were nothing but messy lines, tangled and incoherent, but gradually, an idea began to take shape.

A contraption—something that could focus force precisely. Something stronger than my hammer.

The next day, I started gathering materials at the forge. During breaks from my regular tasks, I secretly worked on my invention. I noticed the other apprentices' puzzled glances as they whispered about the strange pieces I was crafting.

“What’s he making now?” Rikuto muttered, smirking as I fiddled with a coil of reinforced steel.

Another day passed, and my workspace became cluttered with gears, wooden beams, and metal plates. My progress wasn’t without setbacks—one of the metal supports snapped under pressure, sending shards flying across the room. On another attempt, a small prototype section collapsed, spilling soot and grease all over the floor.

Late one evening, as I was hunched over the contraption, Satoshi appeared in the doorway. His sudden presence startled me, and I quickly tried to shield the half-finished device with my body.

“What are you working on?” he asked, stepping closer. His sharp eyes scanned the cluttered table.

“It’s… just a side project,” I stammered, my voice faltering.

Satoshi raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Side project? You’ve been putting more effort into this than your blades. What is it?”

I hesitated, then shrugged. “Just an idea I had.”

He studied me for a long moment but didn’t press further. Instead, he nodded. “Be careful. And don’t let it distract you from your work.”

I watched him leave, relief mingling with determination. I couldn’t afford to stop now.

Days turned into nights as I poured myself into building the contraption. Every mistake felt like a blow to my confidence. One evening, as I adjusted a spring mechanism, it snapped with a loud crack, sending pieces flying. A sharp edge kicked my hand, and blood welled up.

Another time, a miscalculation caused the entire structure to collapse, leaving me to start over from scratch. The setbacks weighed heavily on me, but I refused to quit.

One afternoon, as I wrestled with a stubborn gear, Satoshi appeared again. This time, he didn’t ask questions. Instead, he stepped closer and examined the work.

“You’re off balance here,” he said, pointing to one of the supports. “You’ll need to reinforce it with something sturdier.”

I looked up, surprised. “You… think it’ll work?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what it is, but if you’re this determined, it’s worth doing right. Where’s the hammer?”

I smiled faintly and handed him the tool. Together, we adjusted the mechanism. Satoshi offered advice on angles and weight distribution, his experienced hands steadying mine. He didn’t know the device's purpose, but his encouragement reignited my resolve.

Meanwhile, Kaelan had noticed my absence. He wandered the village alone, his usual mischievous grin missing. Without me, perhaps the days felt emptier, the adventures less exciting. One day, I caught him lingering at the forge’s doorway, watching me work. But seeing the intensity in my expression, he turned away, muttering, “Guess you’ve got better things to do.”

Finally, after countless days and sleepless nights, the contraption was complete. It stood tall and sturdy, a testament to my perseverance. As I tightened the final bolt, I stepped back, pride swelling in my chest.

That evening, Kaelan appeared at the forge, arms crossed. “Still at it, huh?” he said, smirking.

I grinned, gesturing to the finished device. “Not anymore. It’s ready.”

Kaelan raised an eyebrow. “Ready for what?”

“You’ll see.”

The next day, I carried the contraption to the mountain, Kaelan trailing behind me. As we set it up, my hands trembled—not with fear but anticipation. I pulled the lever.

The first strike missed its mark, the force barely grazing the rock. I adjusted the aim and tried again. The machine shuddered, the sound echoing across the valley. Still, the rock remained unbroken.

Kaelan frowned. “Maybe this isn’t going to work.”

Gritting my teeth, I struck the lever again, harder this time. The machine groaned under the pressure, but the rock stayed whole, defiant.

“Why won’t this thing work!” I shouted, frustration boiling over. I angrily kicked the ground, my voice echoing against the towering mountains. My breath came in heavy bursts as I glared at the contraption.

In a rage, I bent down, picked up a small rock, and hurled it at the mountain. “I worked so hard on this!” I muttered bitterly, my voice breaking.

The stone clattered against the wall and fell away. My shoulders sagged, and my head dropped in defeat.  Then, as I turned to vent my frustration, I saw Kaelan's face.

He stood frozen, his mouth slightly ajar. His brows were furrowed, his usually bright eyes wide with something I couldn’t immediately place—shock? Awe? Fear?

“What?” I asked.

Kaelan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he raised a trembling finger and pointed past me, his lips moving silently before a single word escaped: “Look.”

I spun around, and my breath caught in my throat.

A faint, jagged crack had appeared in the mountain, its edges rough and uneven.

I stepped closer, my fingers trembling as I touched the Splintered edges. The cold stone met my fingertips, yet something was unsettling about it.

Kaelan let out a shaky laugh behind me. “You—uh… I think you did it.”

I turned back to him. His face was pale, and a mix of disbelief and unease replaced his usual bravado. The air between us felt heavier like the weight of the discovery was pressing down on us both.

“How is this possible?” I asked, more to myself than to him. “Did my contraption do it?”

Kaelan shrugged,  “So… what now? Do we go in?”

The question hung in the air. I stared at the crack, my feet rooted to the ground. Something about it felt wrong—like it shouldn’t exist. My curiosity clawed at me, urging me to step forward. But my gut twisted in warning.

I glanced at him, my unease mirrored in his expression. “We’ve come this far,” I said quietly, though my voice was steadier than I felt.

He sighed, shaking his head. “We’re going to regret this, aren’t we?”

“Probably,” I muttered.

With that, I took a cautious step forward. As I squeezed through the narrow opening, the stone scraped against my arms and shoulders. The tight space forced me to take shallow breaths, the walls pressing around me. Every sound—my breathing, the shifting of rocks under my feet—echoed unnaturally in the confined space.

The crack seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness swallowing us whole. Then, just as I thought it would never end, the narrow passage suddenly opened. I stumbled forward, nearly losing my balance, and froze.

The cavern before us was vast—far larger than I’d imagined. The ceiling stretched high above, disappearing into shadow, while the walls shimmered faintly, reflecting the dim light that seeped in through unseen crevices. Stalactites hung like the fangs of some great beast, and the air was cold and heavy, carrying a stillness that felt almost sacred.

Kaelan let out a low whistle beside me. “This… is incredible,” he said, “Look at this place.”

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight. My unease hadn’t left me, but something was captivating about the cavern

Kaelan took a few steps forward, his voice echoing off the walls as he muttered, “Amazing.”

His words triggered something. A low rumble, faint at first but growing louder, reverberated through the cavern. The ground beneath us trembled, and loose rocks clattered to the floor.

“Kaelan,” I said sharply, my voice tight with fear. “Stop.”

He froze, looking back at me. “What—”

The rumbling turned into a roar as the ground began to shift. The cavern shuddered violently, and cracks spread across the floor like spiderwebs. Daggers of rock rained down from the ceiling, and I stumbled back, barely keeping my footing.

“We need to get out of here!” I shouted.

We turned and ran back toward the narrow crack we’d come through, but the ground buckled beneath us, sending us sprawling.

A deep, guttural groan echoed through the cavern as the floor split open, creating a gaping chasm between us and the exit. I scrambled to my feet, only to feel the ground shift again. My foot slipped, and I slid toward the chasm's edge before I could react.

I clawed at the rocky surface, desperately trying to find something to hold onto, but my momentum was too strong.

“Renjiro!” Kaelan shouted.

I felt his hand cawing into my wrist as I reached the edge. For a moment, I dangled there, his grip keeping me from falling. The strain on his face was clear, his muscles trembling as he tried to pull me up.

“I’ve got you!” he grunted. “Just—hold on!”

But the rock beneath him crumbled, and his grip faltered.

“Kaelan!” I shouted, panic surging through me.

“I—can’t—hold—”

His hand slipped, and I fell.

The air rushed past me as I plummeted into the black.  Then, with a jarring thud, I hit the ground.

Pain shot through me, but I was alive. My body was aching as I slowly pushed myself up. The silence was deafening, broken only by my ragged breathing.

I looked up, searching for the crack we’d come through, but all I saw was darkness.

“Kaelan!” I shouted, my voice echoing into the void, but I heard no answer.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to my feet. The ground beneath me was uneven, scattered with debris from the collapse.

As I turned, I was paralyzed with fear. Three tunnels stretched before me, their dark mouths yawning like the gates to some unknown abyss. Each path was shrouded in shadow.

With no other option, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the flint I always carried. Striking it against a stone, I ignited a small torch from a fallen bark. The faint light cast shadows that flickered on the walls, illuminating just enough to see my surroundings.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. There was no going back now.

I turned toward the middle tunnel, its darkness seeming to beckon me forward. And I stepped into the unknown.