Hacking the Game Didn’t Go as Intended

Hands of various sizes busily worked the mines of a dimly lit carven. Callused hands gripped pickaxes and shovels while blackened, cracked, and blistered fingers restlessly loaded rocks and dirt into buckets that were being carried off to be filtered for precious metals and stones.

The crack of a whip by an impatient overseer was both a driving force and a stark reminder for the slaving Beastfolk that the lives of freedom they once enjoyed was but a distant memory. Now, it almost seemed like a dream.

Emaciated and dehydrated, a small child helplessly keeled over. The pair of pales that hung from a length of wood across his shoulder fell to the ground with a clatter, spilling the contents onto the roughed cave floor.

The racket, in a bizarre way, was a sound more unnerving than even the crack of the whip. The whip, for the most part, was a symbol of authority and control—but in the wake of a blunder, it quickly transformed into a frightening tool with which to administer severe punishment.

WHUU-PISHH!

The whip lashed out with dark purpose, peeling the flesh from the back of an old man who defensively threw himself over the helpless boy.

“Gra-Grandpa!” the boy cried out frantically, his grandfather’s pained grunt weighing heavily on his heart.

The other Beastfolk looked on like frightened sheep. Bound by cuffs, it was virtually impossible for them to rebel against the wicked tyrant.

A middle-aged man, obviously the bravest of the lot, looked down at his shackles with a furious frown. Even if their limbs were free, they wouldn’t have had enough energy to fight back as they had received little to no food and water since they were imprisoned and forced into manual labor.

The overseer had made it quite clear that—

“You ungrateful mongrels! After giving your insignificant lives meaning, this is how you repay me?”

Everyone stiffened at the venomous words.

“…Water.”

Out of the silence, a small voice courageously spoke up.

“If we had some food and water—”

WHUU-PISHH!

The man cracked his whip again, enraged by the child’s outspoken manner. And once again, the old man used his body to shield his grandson at the alarm of the others.

“You impertinent little shit!” the overseer barked, completely disregarding the old man who had an uncanny resemblance to a dried-out mummy. “I expect you to work yourselves to death! That’s the purpose I’ve given to your worthless lives! Don’t you get it?” he said as he unmercifully kicked the child aside. “Food and water would be wasted on your kind!”

Despite the visible discomfort of the Beastfolk, the man reached down to clutch the bloodied and motionless elder by the neck and lifted him clear off the ground as if he weighed less than a leaf.

Despair soared among the Beastfolk as they noted the direction in which the tyrant brought the elder. The boy desperately clung to the man’s leg, trying to impede his movement, only to be sent crashing to the ground by a backhand.

“Normally I would make an example out of you for your insubordination,” said the overseer to the panting child, “but you evidently have more use than the old man. After the lashing, it looks like he already has one foot in the grave.”

Tears streamed from the boy’s eyes as grief unfurled in the pit of his stomach. The middle-aged Beastkin looked down at his restraints again, his expression chagrined. The rest of the Beastfolk continued cowering like a herd of sheep cornered by a ravenous wolf.

The old man let out a weak moan as the vice grip around his neck tightened. His legs dangled over the gaping hole of a pit from which an eerie hiss emerged. Inside, a large hairy creature akin to a mole titled its bizarre nose upward, its snout splitting open to reveal razor sharp teeth coated with thick saliva.

The overseer heaved an amused grin as the creature stirred within its den in anticipation. Without a shred of hesitation or remorse, he unfurled his fingers, sentencing the frail old man to a grim fate. But that fleeting moment of control would have been his last.

CHENG!

The cold embrace of unyielding metal coiled around the tyrant’s head. His eyes bulged in shock as the chains painfully tightened around his face, tilting his head back.

In the same beat, Rexar leaped across the pit and grabbed the old man, severing the proverbial binds that condemned him to a dark fate.

“I got him!” he shouted tellingly.

With a simple mental command, the chains began retracting into the glowing vortex from which they came, dragging the prisoner along the rough ground toward the caster.

Once he was within range, Daisuke dropped his heel into the bastard’s stomach, ripping a pained scream from his lungs. “The chamber’s clear,” Daisuke announced confidently. “Milo, Elena, see to the captives.”

“Milo? Elena?”

“Wait. What?”

“It can’t be! What’re they doing here?”

“How did they manage to find this place?”

The names rose from the lips of the Beastfolk in hushed whispers. It was obvious they were acquainted with the young heroes who had come to their rescue—and noting the overseer’s incapacitated state restored a modicum of composure within them.

Rexar approached the group and carefully laid down the elder on his side, his back bloodied from the long gash he had suffered from the whip. The wailing grandson hurried onto the scene, throwing himself onto his motionless grandfather while blaming himself.

Without wasting another precious moment, Milo sank to his knees to inspect the wheezing elder. “H-His wounds are pretty deep… and he’s lost a substantial amount of blood. The fact that he’s dehydrated and malnourished doesn’t help at all.”

“Can you heal him?” asked Elena anxiously.

Milo didn’t respond; time was of the essence. The incantation for the Area Heal spell flowed from his lips with urgency and purpose. The boy’s eyes widened in alarm when his grandfather began to glow, then he looked down at his own body in surprise to find that the light had engulfed him as well.

Gasps of shock and wonder rippled from the Beastfolk as they were surrounded by the same ethereal curtain of light. Men, women, and children gazed down at their bodies as a cool sensation hummed within them, gradually healing their wounds and slightly soothing their fatigue.

Whindel, the middle-aged man, gawked at the palm of his hands in astonishment as the calluses began to reduce in size. Even his ear that had been severed as punishment for his constant rebellion had been completely healed.

With a wan smile, he raised his head. After taking a good long look at his saviors—their confident disposition, weapons, and accessories, he could not only easily understand how they had managed to make it back to the village safely, but how they had found and made their way into the mountain.

“You three have grown so much you’re almost unrecognizable,” he said with evident praise.

With a wide grin, Rexar rested his hands on his hips and tilted his chin to the ceiling, his nose elongating as if he were Pinocchio’s distant relative.

Whindel regarded him wearily. “Well… you’ve mostly grown.”

Rexar’s once glorified pose withered, and for the first time in weeks, the people who were forced into labor eased into a fit of laughter.

“I may have healed your wounds,” Milo began, “but you’re all still overworked and malnourished. Even if it’s just laughing, try not to overexert yourselves too much.”

“I can help with that,” said Daisuke as he leisurely walked over, pulling the overseer behind him like a mutinous dog on a leash. “It’s not much, but we have a bit of food left over from yesterday.”

The Beastkin sniffed the air and looked around in anticipation, but the only thing in Daisuke’s possession was the miserable human who had tormented them for the past few weeks.

They were utterly struck speechless when, at a mere hand gesture, a bed of leaves materialized on the ground upon which a generous amount of bread, vegetables, and fruits appeared. A large pot held what was left of yesterday’s stew.

“I-It’s still warm,” said a man as he sniffed the air, his mouth salivating as he inched closer.

A woman, presumably the most dehydrated of the lot, lunged toward a large pale of water instead. Using the wooden ladle resting next to it, she desperately had her fill before surrendering the utensil to the next thirsty folk.

Whindel tilted his head back and emptied a bowl of stew into his mouth with a deep but contented sigh. “I don’t know your name… but you’ve saved us all from starvation.”

Everyone bowed their heads in gratitude, including the little boy and his grandfather who almost had their time together in this world cut short.

“This is Haxks,” introduced Elena. “We owe him our lives. Without his aid, we wouldn’t have found this mountain, let alone rescued all of you.”

Daisuke raised his hand dismissively when everyone began to express their generosity. “More importantly, how did you all manage to get captured?”

Whindel lowered his head, recalling the horrid memory. “While we were all out hunting and foraging for food, we were ambushed by demons and taken prisoner.”

Elena, Rexar, and Milo exchanged shocked expressions.

“I know,” added Whindel, his eyebrows furrowed as he mulled over the thought in his head for the thousandth time. “Low-level demons aren’t any different from a crazed monster, but the group that took us hostage were different.”

“Is it really possible that they were being controlled?” asked Milo.

“I know I said this before,” Rexar began, “but is it even possible to control demons?”

“Putting that aside,” Daisuke interjected, “is there anything you can tell us about this place? The layout of the cavern, the location of the demons, or…” He tightened his grip on the overseer’s hair and jerked his head back. “How many more guys like him are lurking around?”

The rest of the Beastfolk exchanged puzzled expressions, but Daisuke kept his gaze on Whindel. Elena, Rexar, and Milo looked on with expectation as well, but the man’s response was disappointing.

“Our limbs were bound and our heads bagged when we were transported here. When the demons left,” he gestured to the fuming man on the ground. “He was all who was left. We’ve been mining ever since, so we never got a chance to explore this place.”

“Well, that doesn’t tell us anything,” murmured Rexar.

“If their vision and mobility were impaired,” said Daisuke, “then I highly doubt they would’ve been able to climb a rope.”

Milo’s eyes lit up at that revelation. “Which means there’s another path into the mountain.”

“Bingo,” chimed Daisuke as he crouched down before their scowling hostage and flicked his forehead. “Okay, so here’s the deal: you’re going to shamelessly spill your guts by telling us everything you know, or one: you’ll be thrown to that monster in the pit. And something tells me he won’t show you an ounce of compassion for all the times you fed it. Or two: I’ll hand you over to these guys so that they can pay you back for everything you’ve done.”

Wide-eyed and sweating bullets, the man shifted his gaze toward the Beastfolk who wore a scowl far more sinister than his own. Some bared their teeth while others flexed their arms and cracked their knuckles.

“Y-You fools have absolutely no idea who you’re messing with!” he threatened pitifully.

“Precisely. We don’t, which is why we’re trying to find out,” replied Daisuke coolly.

The man’s eyes widened, thrown for a loop by the nonchalant response. “T-The Mhaledictus is the most powerful organization in the western hemisphere! If you mess with me, you mess with them! And don’t think that the guilds will be enough to protect you from their wrath!”

“…Mhaledictus, huh?” Daisuke replied casually as he raised his shoulders. “Doesn’t ring a bell. But more importantly, about the mountain and your buddies hanging around…”

“I-I don’t know anything!” the man gushed anxiously. “I’m only responsible for mining; the demihumans and I aren’t allowed any farther into the mountain.”

Daisuke didn’t need the Eye of Verity to know that the swine was telling the truth. Beds of moss could be seen along the walls, which indicated that’s where the Beastfolk were forced to sleep when they weren’t being forced into labor.

“I’ve already told you everything I know!” the man snapped impatiently, bravado evident in the unyielding lines that creased his forehead. “Now release me! The Mhaledictus will be at your throats if anything happens to their people! Don’t you get it? You idiots made a big mistake stepping into this place!”

Daisuke scoffed, a hand cupping the side of his face. “What threatening scumbags like you never seem to realize is that—” he started finger flicking the man’s forehead repeatedly— “you’ll probably be long dead before word can get to your corporate overlords.”

“W-Wait!” the man stuttered, fruitlessly squirming against the magic chains that were wound around him. “You promised to let me go if I gave you information.”

“Sorry, I lied.”

The man’s eyes quivered in shock.

Daisuke smiled. “Oh, so the bad guys can lie and torture people but I can’t? What kind of logic is that?”

The man let out a pathetic squeal and shrunk back as the Beastfolk encroached upon him like an ominous blanket of thunderclouds.