Chapter 297 – Ember
“What should we do next?”
“You decide,” came the voice behind him—Silence, once the quietest of the Slave Laborers.
He was tall and gaunt, his sunken cheeks hollow beneath a skin pale from years without sunlight, veins visible beneath the surface. Dressed in tattered, filthy rags, he had long lived in the dim, suffocating darkness of the mine. Trachoma had clouded his eyes, but now, even in the deepest black of the mine shaft, a strange light burned within them—fierce, unyielding.
His name was Nick. Once a peasant laborer, he’d briefly served as a page before tragedy struck. His parents had been trampled to death by the baron’s youngest son’s horse. He himself had been sold into the mine, and since then, a deep, burning hatred for the Northern Nobles had festered in his heart.
He was also one of the first to embrace the New Ideology, the first to preach Rebellion. Now, he stood as Starfire’s right-hand man—a key lieutenant in this meticulously planned uprising.
Starfire scanned the faces around him—eyes wide with confusion, fury, fear.
“Keep going.”
“Keep going with what?” someone asked, voice trembling with doubt.
Starfire’s reply was unwavering:
“Keep liberating the workers here. Turn them into our strength. And—annihilate every Noble’s lackey in the Valier Mine!”
He raised the Overseer’s severed head high above his head.
“We’ll show them—who is the master here!”
“Good!”
“Kill them all!”
A few laborers roared in unison, arms raised. Then more joined, swept up by the frenzy, their voices rising into a wild, blood-choked chant.
But Starfire knew better. Only a few among them were truly trustworthy. The rest still carried deep-seated fear—fear bred by centuries of oppression. Under the weight of tyranny, they might yet become sycophants, betraying the cause at the first sign of danger.
He remembered: this mine shaft was just one of many. The Valier Mine was vast—home to thousands of slaves, nearly a hundred Overseers—its relentless flow of gold and silver enriching the greedy Earl, producing thousands of gold coins every year.
Now, it was his perfect recruitment ground.
Chai Gun, the timid one, stepped forward, summoning courage with a whisper:
“But... we have no weapons. No grain. How can we—”
Starfire lifted the head again, swinging it through the air. A grin split his face, white teeth flashing.
“They have it. All of it. We don’t steal. We reclaim what is rightfully ours.”
Chai Gun’s knees trembled. He swallowed hard, sweat beading on his brow.
Starfire turned to the crowd, his voice echoing through the cavern.
“Anyone with ideas? Speak up! Many hands make light work!”
His tone shifted—sharp, cold.
“But let me make one thing clear: we’ve killed the Overseer. There’s no turning back. Any thought of surrender is just a dream.”
“Let’s steal the Noble’s golden hoe! Then they can’t farm!”
“Take their piglets!”
“…”
Starfire sighed, wry smile on his lips.
“Very creative. Any other ideas?”
Nick stepped forward again.
“We need a name. A title.”
“They call themselves just and fair knights,” he said, voice rising. “We should have a proud name—something that echoes across Anzeta.”
“Yes,” came the murmurs. “Nick’s right.”
“But what should we call ourselves? We’ve never read a book.”
All eyes turned to Starfire—dozens of weary, scarred, yet hopeful gazes, fixed upon him.
And in those eyes, he saw something.
Not just suffering.
But spark.
Each pair of eyes held a tiny ember—faint, but burning bright.
And he knew: these embers could one day set the world ablaze.
He paused. Then, softly, he spoke:
“Ember.”
“Let them call us whatever they want—Devils, scum, beasts. We will call ourselves Ember. Within our ranks, there will be rank, yes—but no status. No titles, no lords. Only comrades. And when you speak to one another, you will say Comrade. That is our vow. Our shared purpose.”
Though many words were unfamiliar, the fire in his voice was undeniable. The laborers nodded. One by one. In silence. In agreement.
Starfire tossed the head onto the ground. Shouldered the blood-stained hoe. Turned toward the exit, the first to step into the light.
“Weapons in hand—follow me!”
“Liberate the entire mine!”
He wiped blood from his face with the back of his hand, eyes alight with euphoria.
As a Plot Enthusiast, Starfire had never felt anything like this before—no game had ever made him feel so immersed, so real. He’d always been a spectator.
But now? He was the creator of history.
He was living it.
Every laborer beside him—real. Alive. Flesh and blood.
“What’s a rifle?”
“We only have hoes!”
“Don’t worry. You’ll see when the time comes.”
Amid the crowd, Starfire wiped blood from the hoe, gazed at the shaft of light piercing through from outside, and whispered—just loud enough for himself:
“I’m just an ordinary plot fan.”
“How did I suddenly become a rebel leader?”
---
Several days later, the Northern Nobles would name it the Valier Uprising.
One slave killed his Overseer. Then, he ignited a firestorm—inciting thousands within the Valier Mine to rise in revolt.
They called themselves Ember.
Nearly a hundred Overseers sent by the Earl were slain—among them, an honorary Baron.
Pursued by armored knights, the rebels fled into the deep mountains, becoming brutal outlaws.
The Baron of the Duchy of Carter declared the leader possessed by a demon—someone who gained power by drinking human blood, devouring human flesh. He was a force of evil, must be destroyed. The Northern Kingdoms’ nobles rallied in full support, determined to crush this cursed rebellion.
“Cult of the Devil.”
“Man-Eating Horde.”
“Wandering Hyenas.”
These were the titles bestowed upon them.
For centuries, serfdom had been entrenched in the Northern Regions—etched into bones, passed down through blood.
Though there had been scattered rebellions, nothing like this had happened in decades.
The sudden emergence of such a force sent terror through the noble courts. They would crush it—at all costs—before it could grow.
But the nobles underestimated the gravity of the situation.
Twenty thousand players, born in the Northern Kingdoms—those not recruited, those who’d been left behind—were not all loyal. Among them were troublemakers, dreamers, firebrands.
And with no military suppression like the Kingdom of Ashen, rebel groups sprouted like mushrooms after rain.
(End of Chapter)
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