Coal Mines

A few hours after the wolf attack.

The interiors of the newly-excavated coal mine consisted of three main clearings and dozens of small, branching paths. Each clearing was formed from a natural cavity found within the mountain and could comfortably house anywhere between eighty to a hundred people.

Coal ores scarcely decorated these clearings, and due to the miners' efforts these past few days, these scarce pockets were already wiped clean.

The majority of the coal mining occurred inside dozens of branching paths. These paths were narrow and artificial and could only house ten to twelve people at a time. However, the walls and earth within these paths were rich in coal and contributed to a large portion of the production.

As such, the natural clearings served as the break/rest area for the miners and were natural gathering zones. The branching paths were the place where most of the mining was done. This was how the mine usually functioned.

Today, however, the scene within the mine was completely different.

“Argh!~ My leg! MY LEGG!!”

“Stop strugglin’! Hold him down! Oi, help me wrap this cloth around his thigh to stop the bleeding!”

“Move! Move! Move! I’ve got bo’ling hot water in ma hands! Get out of ma way!”

“I’m going to die! I’m going to die!~”

Inside the second clearing, which was the largest clearing and was situated in a central position within the mine, a great number of miners frantically moved about, as they tended to the few dozen injured miners. Despairing sobs and painful cries echoed inside this grim cavern alongside other shouts and screams for help.

Facing the wolf attack from earlier was by no means an effortless task. Even though the miners had not engaged the wolves in a battle and had sensibly retreated in the shortest time possible, many of the miners had suffered varying degrees of injuries.

Miraculously enough, not a single person had died!

A few that were lucky enough to get away and not face the brunt of the attacks and mishaps only suffered a few bruises and cuts from the hurried retreat. Most, however, suffered considerably with injuries ranging from single or multiple fractures and/or breakage to grievous cuts and bites.

And then there were the select few people who teetered on the very edge of death, barely clinging onto their lives. These people were unlucky enough to directly face a wolf, incurring great, life-threatening injuries as a result.

One such person was Gunter Abel, one of the very first people to spot the wolf pack and one of the select, unlucky few to suffer a serious attack.

Lying on a temporary, roughly-strewn-together mattress, Gunter could barely make sense of his surroundings and frequently slipped in and out of consciousness. His body lay powerless and limp, and his arms lay affixed to his chest, wrapped in a bloody cast. Torn clothes covered a part of him with small cuts, claw marks, and scratches covering the rest.

Lying immobile on the mattress with no one around him, Gunter was accompanied by only pain and agony. The pain originated from his body, while agony originated from his heart.

Lying here, Gunter knew… death was coming for him. He knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

There was a popular legend shared in the small hamlet where Gunter was born. This legend spoke of a man, a virtuous man, who had spent his entire life doing good to those around him.

Every day he helped his family, his neighbors, his community, he helped everyone who needed his help. Spending his life like this, the man remained unmarried and childless. Day after day, week after week, year after year… time unceasingly passed as he spent his entire life helping other people.

On his final day, as he lay on his deathbed, alone and with an empty heart, Death came to visit him.

“O’ Human, I’ve come to claim your life,” the grim reaper professed.

Staring at his grim figure, flaming eyes, and claiming scythe, the virtuous man opened his mouth and weakly confessed, “O’ mighty Death, I’m still owed a reward.”

“A reward?” the grim one repeated. “What for?”

“For being virtuous. For spending my entire life in service to those around me and to those who required my service. For living a sinless life,” The man answered. Feeling his breath grow weaker with each passing second, the man hurried, “O’ mighty Death, please hurry in granting my reward. I do not have any time to spare.”

Facing such a man, Death openly scoffed. Not hiding his mocking tone, he replied to the dying man, “O’ foolish Human, you are not without sin. You do not deserve a reward from me?”

Hearing this reply, the man became shocked and furious. However, feeling his rapidly nearing end, he did not want to spend the remainder of his time arguing with the grim reaper. Still, he wanted to know.

“What is this sin of mine, mighty Death?” he asked, genuinely unsure of his shortcomings.

Laughing at his question, Death replied, “To spend a lifetime in service of others is a lifetime spent in the disservice of your own. This, foolish Human, is your greatest sin.”

Hearing its reply, realization dawned upon the dying man. With trembling lips, he muttered, “Life is the greatest gift that humans receive from the world, and I’ve squandered it in service of others. I understand my sin.” Speaking so, he closed his eyes and the final embers of life slipped away from him.

Staring coldly at the dead human’s corpse, Death sighed after some time.

“O’ foolish human, even after facing death, you still failed to understand.” It then shook its head and walked away.

The legend ended here. It was a short and simple story, and had been told and retold in Gunter’s birthplace for eons. While the exact words of the story had changed, its content and meaning remained the same.

Due to its rather abrupt and confusing ending, many people pondered why the dying man’s understanding was false and why Death still considered him a fool in death. Wasn’t his answer the same as Death?

Truth be told, none knew why. They simply listened to the story, pondered on its meaning for some time, and then forgot about it. Maybe they would return to it sometime later, and perhaps someone would form their own conclusion to the legend. All in all, each person’s interpretation of the legend varied.

And now, as he lay on his deathbed, Gunter naturally recalled this legend. His diminishing thoughts repeated the story within his mind while forming his conclusion.

‘It is not a sin to serve others. Death called it a sin because the dying man had spent his entire life doing it while expecting compensation. It was not out of his heart’s volition that he decided to service the others, but out of greed. This was his sin.’ Gunter concluded. His conclusion could be the right one, or perhaps it could be wrong. No one knew.

However, it was his own. It was a conclusion that came from the crystalization of his understanding towards life and living.

‘I suppose I’m a sinner too, Gunter thought to himself. ‘Selfishly dying and leaving behind my family, friends, and my lord to face the dangers.’

Feeling weakness set upon him, Gunter slowly closed his eyes. Just as he was about to pass off peacefully, he heard someone whisper into his ears.

“Don’t go to sleep. You will die.” This person spoke with a low, quiet tone. A few seconds of silence later, he whispered once more, “Hold still. This will hurt.”

The next instant, Gunter vaguely heard a resolute chop following which immense pain flooded his mind.

“ARGH!” Gunter screamed at the top of his lungs. His eyes were wide open.

---

“Oi, Lloyd! Where’dya get that food from?” A miner pointed to the steaming boils in his hands and asked.

“The foreman is distributing them in the next clearing. Ya better queue up now if you’re hungry,” Lloyd replied, earning a grateful nod from the miner.

Lloyd was currently in the middlemost clearing, which was now the ‘Treatment Zone’, and was heading towards his old friend Gunter. He had left some time back to request the foreman for some rations when he had noticed Gunter’s situation quickly declining.

Hoping that putting some food into his body would revitalize him, Lloyd quickly went and received two bowls –one for him and the other for Gunter– and was now returning to feed Gunter both the bowls.

‘Like my mama used to say; A hot bowl of food will cure almost anything!’ Llyod was a simple-minded but deeply caring person. His selfless act of braving danger to rescue his friend from the wolf and carrying him back to the mine was proof of his character.

“Hot gruel! Comin’ through!” Lloyd loudly warned while carefully making his way through the Treatment Zone. This area was filled with injured townspeople and people frantically tending to their injuries that even though the clearing was large enough to house almost a hundred people, it still felt cramped.

Focusing his attention on the bowls of hot soup in his hands, Lloyd took careful care to not drop or spill it. The foreman had repeatedly reminded him of their limited rations and warned him that there would be no refills in the event of accidental spills.

‘Almost there.’ The moment he made it past this huge rock outgrowth blocking his path and vision, he would be reunited with his friend. Just as Llyod was about to go around the rocky outgrowth, he heard a terrible scream.

“ARRGGHH!!!”

“Gunter!” Llyod yelled, recognizing his dear friend’s voice. He immediately dropped the two bowls in his hands and rushed towards the origin of the voice.

Weaving past the rocky outgrowth, Lloyd came to the small corner where he found Gunter writing on the ground with pain and a pale-looking young man sitting next to him and sawing away at Gunter’s arms with a saw-like tool.

Seeing the youth’s indifferent face as he heartlessly sawed away at Gunter’s arms, rage rushed towards Llyod’s head.

“Oi, sick bastard! Get away from him!!” Lloyd screamed with a red face and rushed towards the youth. Cocking back his arm, he heaved a mighty yell and swung his fist towards the youth’s face.

Caught off-guard, the youth barely saw the fist heading towards him before it made contact with his head. Tremendous force bared down on the youth, snapping his head back and flinging him away. A short scream escaped his mouth.

“Argh, fu*k!” Lloyd winced as he felt immense pain in his fist. However, his eyes quickly landed on the writing Gunter causing him to forget his pain and quickly approach him.

“Gunter!” Lloyd yelled, putting his hands over his struggling friend. His eyes gazed down at his tear-filled face before heading down towards his arms.

Lloyd immediately paled from horror.

Blood poured from Gunter’s right arm as a deep cut penetrated past his skin, muscles, and halfway into his bone! The incomplete cut was performed at his elbow, just above the sections mauled by the wolf.

Seeing his human-inflicted injury, Llyod snapped his head towards the young man whom he had punched and stared at him with hatred in his eyes.

“What the fu*k is wrong with you, ya bastard! What kinda sick fu*k would cut his fellow man’s arms with a cleaver!?” His screams echoed within the limited cavern space, drawing the attention of the other miners.

“What’s happenin here?”

“Is that ‘Loud-Mouth’ Lloyd? Who’s that in his arms?”

“There blood pouring from that guy? Eh? Why’s there a kid near them? He’s bleedin from his head too.”

The commotion had grown so large that it had brought most of the miners to the scene. Even Foreman Jason, who had originally come to announce the distribution of rations, was drawn to the scene due to the commotion.

Forcing his way past the crowd, Jason arrived at the front and saw the scene.

“What’s happening here!?” He demanded an answer.

With anger coloring his face and tears streaming down his eyes, Lloyd pointed to the youth in the corner, struggling to get up to his feet after being punched by him.

“I found that sick bastard cutting away at my friend’s arm with a cleaver!” Lloyd roared. He then proceeded to explain the story from his viewpoint.

The faces of the crowd grew darker and darker, and some of them looked at the youth in the corner with horror and disgust in their eyes. By the time Lloyd had finished narrating his story, which was a minute or two later, the crowd was mostly quiet with most staring at Gunter with pity and the rest staring at the youth with hate.

Jason looked at the youth in the corner. By now, he had struggled up to his feet and sat atop a small rock in the corner with his head turned up and his hand clutching onto his bleeding forehead.

“Is it true?” Jason asked. “Is it true what he’s saying? Did you cut at that man’s arm with a cleaver?”

The youth mumbled quietly in response.

“ANSWER LOUDLY DAMMIT!” Jason bellowed. “DID YOU DO IT!?”

His roaring caused the youth to flinch. The youth then turned to face the foreman –and the crowd behind him– and answered.

“I was saving him from death,” the young, pale-faced youth indifferently said.

His voice was absent of the slightest trace of remorse and his face remained apathetic.