Freedom was boring; that simple truth was the first lesson Verity learned following her escape. The initial rush had faded and left the bland nothingness of neverending stone floor and walls. She had expected an enemy, a thrilling fight, and a chase. All she had gotten were scratch marks and blood soaked clothes from a quick bout with some overgrown rats. It had taken all her self control to resist the urge to finish off the vile creatures, but she had taken solace in the knowledge of their inevitable death. Injured creatures would not survive for long. She hated vermin of all sorts and felt no guilt at leaving her attackers maimed in a previous junction. Years living in small cramped huts that contained little room for their real occupants let alone a colony of mice or rats had left her eager to take out her fury on the unexpecting beasts. The ones she had beaten were larger than their urban counterparts, so it had been harder than she expected. Still, she managed to put down the three that ambushed her with only mild injuries.

Fighting was tricky at times, especially with the sand gone on her hands, but she would still choose it over this monotonous jaunt through the dungeon. The nearby orc dungeon had looked so close on the maps she had seen, and her whole plan had been based on that assumption. She now realized how long of a journey she had before her. The scale of the dungeon system was intimidating. Hours had passed to leave her where she was now, finally running into the first orc sentries. At this rate, it will take months to get across to the other side! She thought bitterly to herself.

She was neither stealthy nor cautious, so she picked up her pace when she saw the tall creatures appear in the tunnel ahead. Normal girls might be scared; However, she was not like most people, and while her body may not be stealthy, it contained a hidden danger. The orcs noticed her immediately, likely before she had noticed them, but a small humanoid child was not something that triggered any battle instincts in the hardened guards. They actually grinned at each other like they knew a secret, a secret she did not want to understand, yet she also knew something: golem children may look equal in strength to humans, but they were significantly more robust and resilient. The first orc who reached to grab her took a punch to his privates that resulted in an unmanly squeak and a chuckle from his still amused companion who had not appreciated the unnatural strength of her strike.

She soon made his mirth disappear as the first sentry’s holstered knife ended up inside his gut, and his face was pressed against the hard stone floor. While he was struggling on the ground, vainly trying to remove the small knife from his stomach, she dodged a return punch sent by the first guard. His watery eyes and hunched posture told her he was still in pain, which she capitalized on by faking a thrust towards his groin with her balled fist. After he moved to protect that region, she used her momentum to bring her other hand and its brush towards his very grimy face. It should have missed him by a few inches since her arms were not long enough to reach. His unimpressed expression and movement to unsheath his sword instead of block told her he had noticed this too.

Despite the natural law of physics that mandated her swing pass by his face with over an inch to space, her brush resonated with the dirt on his face pulling it and the attached skin towards her left hand as she neared him. Her minor void ability from her cleaning skill reaching level ten increased the pressure between them, forcing the startled orc’s pale face right into the rough bristles as it swung past. His scream of agony made her cringe, conscious of how far the noise might travel, and she was forced to watch as his skin was peeled away by the friction between it and the brush. He collapsed to the floor in agony, distracting her from anything else, and she was only reminded of his companion when a badly thrown knife whacked her on the shoulder. It was a weak throw that barely opened the skin, but it successfully brought her attention back to him.

She was not unscathed in her rushed attempt to pin his flailing limbs, yet from the fight overall, she had little damage. The power of surprise had allowed her to incapacitate these men rather quickly. They saw a little girl; She saw a fist made of coarse sand and hardened bone slamming into their leather-clad bodies. The knife and brush had been added conveniences, though as she peered at the brush, she wondered how the fight would have gone without it. Her instincts told her these men were around five levels above her, but she had bested them easily due to her unexpected ability and sub-human nature.

Humans may claim her kind had been weak to make a deal to increase their power, and it might be true. However, she would like to see a young human, boy or girl, do what she had just done. If this was the power of becoming a monster race, then she would like to personally thank her ancestors for making such a good bargain. Holding the man down was difficult but doable due to her relatively heavy weight for her size. He cursed at her in the orcs’ mixed language, derived mostly from their exposure to humanity and their manner of speaking. Lady Kora would be appalled by his assault of their language, Verity thought, smiling as he yelled.

Proper use of language among the aristocracy was considered one of the pinnacle skills for young ladies like her charge. Verity had been mocked repeatedly and ignored as a caregiver until she managed to imitate the eloquent and haughty speech used by the nobles in their society. Since she was essentially a living trophy of the golems' subjugation, Lady Kora had been rewarded handsomely for ‘training’ her properly. It had opened up new opportunities for her as she suddenly could interact with non-slaves and not be dismissed outright.

As she looked down at the bleeding man under her, she was bombarded with this strange ache deep in her chest. Thinking of being chastised by the blond whirlwind that was her mistress or being paraded around at parties made her briefly consider turning back. None of her memories were overly positive or pleasant, yet they were all that she knew, and it made her question whether her impulsive decision had been the correct one. Years of being told what she was capable of and the futility of her idealism had instilled a grain of self-consciousness in her psyche, and it caused her to pause on the dying body of the sentry in contemplation. A distant noise brought her back and gave her the push she needed to realize that, while her former life had not been awful, it could hardly be considered living. Even if she died today, she would have died from her own actions. This was something that few in her family could claim. It was stressful being responsible for her future, and she could finally see why many of the slaves gave into their regulated existence.

Her hand reached into the space between the floor and the orc to pull out the rusty dagger. The suction as it was removed, resulted in a torrent of blood and exposed his intestines to the empty hallway. Striping the other guard of his sheath and pouch, she moved on.