Chapter 4 – The Silent Rebel

The morning whistle screeched across the mines like the cry of a dying beast. Men rose from the dirt where they had slept, eyes hollow, bodies bent. Chains rattled as they dragged themselves to work.

Rocky rose with them. His back still burned from the whip’s lash, but his eyes—his eyes glowed with quiet fire. Each day here was meant to break a man, but each day only made him stronger. He studied every guard, every weak link in their chain of power, and most of all—he studied the people.

Among the slaves, he noticed a boy—no older than sixteen—struggling to carry a sack twice his size. The boy collapsed, his knees sinking into the dust. The overseer’s shadow loomed, whip ready. Instinct screamed at Rocky to look away, to stay hidden. But something inside him snapped.

He stepped forward. Without a word, Rocky lifted the sack from the boy’s back and threw it onto his own shoulder. His muscles strained, but he did not flinch. The overseer’s whip paused mid-air.

The boy stared at him with wide eyes, trembling. For the first time in years, a spark of hope flickered in his gaze. Others saw it too. Whispers began to spread like wildfire: “The new one… he is different.”

That night, under the faint glow of the moon, a group of men sat near Rocky. They didn’t speak loudly—fear still chained their tongues—but their eyes asked questions. One man, his beard grey with age, finally murmured, "Why risk your life for a boy you don’t even know?Aren't you afraid of them?"

Rocky’s voice was low but firm. “Because one day, no man here should bow to another. One day, we will rise.”

Silence fell. For years, the slaves had buried such thoughts. To hope was dangerous. Yet in that silence, their hearts stirred.

But Rocky knew he had to be careful. Any wrong step would cost not just his life, but theirs as well. He couldn’t revolt yet. Not until he understood everything.

And then came the twist.

The next day, while digging, Rocky uncovered something strange beneath the soil—a hidden tunnel, half-buried, leading into darkness. Before he could explore, a miner grabbed his arm and whispered harshly, “Don’t go there. It’s cursed. Men who enter never return.”

Rocky narrowed his eyes. Cursed or not, he knew one thing: secrets were buried here, not just gold. And secrets… could be power.

That night, as he lay on the ground, Rocky clenched his fists. He was no longer just surviving. He was waiting. Watching. Planning. And now, he has found a door into the unknown.

The legend of Rocky was beginning to take root—not through blood yet, but through whispers in The dark. The slaves did not dare to say it out loud, but deep inside, they all felt the same : something was coming, and the mines would never remain the same again..

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