"A cave?"
Jaemin muttered under his breath.
Tier 2 rifts were normally winding labyrinths, twisted architecture of corrupted space—this, though? This was raw. Jagged stone walls, dripping stalactites, narrow corridors with no real symmetry. A natural formation. That was rare.
Still, no one around him flinched. The strike team walked like they'd been here a dozen times. Their relaxed postures said it all: the Abyssals were gone, and the boss was sealed using Aether Sigils.
Jaemin's eyes drifted toward the far chamber. Faint pulses of power echoed down the stone, like a steady heartbeat. Even sealed, the boss was alive.
"I wonder how strong it actually is…"
He clenched his jaw.
Tier 2 bosses weren't a joke.
Even the most elite Coreborns could get shredded if they slipped.
They pushed forward. Around him, the cleanup team began peeling through the aftermath. The scent of scorched bone, burnt hide, and Rift Dust lingered in the air. Abyssal corpses still steamed where they'd fallen. Jaemin passed one with a split-open skull, its core already harvested.
His boots crunched over crystal shards. Then, finally, the main crystal clusters. Thick pillars of glowing blue rising from the stone, like frozen geysers of light. Rift Crystals.
Jaemin approached them slowly.
"Last time, when I helped Taeha, the crystals came off easy."
He recalled.
Back then, he had barely awakened. Now? He was holding three cores—two of them Special.
"If I go full force, I'll shatter these like glass."
He crouched, studying the formation. He ran his hand along one of the edges—rough, dense. Cool to the touch, but vibrating with latent energy.
Around him, miners were already striking away.
Their pickaxes arced downward with precision. Their breathing was short but controlled, bodies tense. Muscles flexed at the shoulders and back, deliberate. They rotated through their hips, minimising rebound from the impact. It was a system—a dance they'd practised a hundred times.
Their tools glowed faintly at the tips—infused with micro-core fragments.
An Aether Crest design. No surprise.
Jaemin grabbed one of the pickaxes he brought in and examined the handle. He positioned himself in front of a cluster, took a breath, then exhaled slowly.
"We don't have all day, champ…"
A man said, placing a hand on Jaemin's shoulder.
"If you wanna work, then better get to it or buzz your ass out of here…"
Jaemin sighed mentally.
"Are you a foreman?"
He asked.
"No… do you really think I'd take being mining if I were a foreman?"
The man scoffed.
"So you're just a regular miner."
Jaemin looked up normally, like he usually does
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The man almost had a full constipation streak from the way Jaemin stared at him.
"I-I meant let's get the work done fast so we can enjoy lunch."
He backpedalled, retracting his hand fast and stepping backward.
"Let's do a good job, hehe."
He added with a nervous grin.
"Did I scare him off? I just asked if he was a regular miner… did it come off badly?"
Jaemin thought, scratching the brim of his helmet instead of his head.
He then looked back and saw the foreman at a distance.
"Never mind, he got nervous because the foreman is a few feet away..."
He picked up his axe and swung.
CRASH!
Heaps of Rift Crystal fell at his feet.
He kept going—steady at first, gauging his surroundings, then gradually speeding up. Each hit is more precise, each shard landing clean.
"Now that I've grown stronger, everything has become easier, no?"
Jaemin thought.
He glanced over.
Several people were harvesting Abyssal parts—teeth, claws, eyes, bones, even its tail before it steams off.
Everything was high value. No one left anything behind.
"Working hard, huh…"
The foreman came over, watching Jaemin.
"Yeah, it's going good."
Jaemin replied, acting like it was tough.
"Hmm, you're doing well, don't worry…"
The foreman nodded.
"I'm here if you need anything."
As the foreman turned to leave—
"I have a question."
Jaemin said.
"Ehh, sure sure, go ahead."
The foreman replied.
"Were there any casualties in your previous clean-up?"
Jaemin asked.
"Ehh, yeah, a few."
The foreman shrugged.
"But they were all low levels, so we got by them pretty smoothly."
He laughed.
Jaemin bowed slightly as the foreman turned and walked off.
"He wouldn't be laughing after seeing just how strong a Tier 2 boss really is..."
Jaemin thought, gripping his pickaxe again.
BANG!
CLICK!
CRASH!
BANG!
The rhythm was clean. Smooth. Not a drop of sweat ran down Jaemin's face. His stance is balanced. Grip—tight. Every strike crushed through crystal veins like he was splitting clay.
Time passed.
The rest of the team had already taken two breaks. Jaemin? Not even one.
He didn't want one.
While others rested, Jaemin mined.
When the group returned from their last break, they saw him still swinging—still working.
Well, he just wanted to get this over with.
"He's still mining…"
"Holy..."
"Foreman, who even is this guy?"
"You sure he isn't a seasoned Bastion Core?"
The foreman scratched the back of his head.
"Well, last time I checked, he said he was a Precision..."
He muttered.
"That's one rugged man..."
One of the workers muttered.
"Of course."
The foreman huffed proudly.
"I knew this man was a perfect choice considering how tight and rugged his pecs were… a little flex and they'd shred his clothes."
"Foreman..."
Jaemin said, approaching.
"Yes, Jaemin."
"I'm done here. I'll head to start my next job."
"Ah, yes, yes… go ahead."
The foreman nodded, clearing the way.
Jaemin left the rift.
****
The sky was dark—night had arrived.
The Covenant strike team was already gone.
Behind him, the mining team began to disperse too, one by one.
All except the foreman—who stayed behind, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Jaemin's back until it disappeared into the dark.
*****
Jaemin secured the heat-resistant cap, pulled the gloves tight over his fingers, and stepped into the synth zone. The faint hiss of machinery and the constant thrum of the converter filled the silence on the field. He picked up the scooper and began adding rift dust into the container, one handful after another.
Hours passed.
No complaints. No breaks. No one else.
Only the low hum of the conversion rig and the faint clinks of crystals landing into the metal carts.
He didn't say a word, but the frown on his face said plenty.
He was frustrated.
He had made a choice—and it gnawed at him. He could've killed the boss. Easily. He wanted to. But it would've compromised the mining ops. The team. The rift. The entire covenant's reward. It wasn't worth the casualties.
So he let it go.
Not because he couldn't win—but because he knew he would. And that was the problem, and well, on the inside, Jaemin wanted the safety of the worker before anything else.
Sssshhkk!
Another load of blackened dust melted, crackled, and split—another crystal dropped into the cart with a click.
One cart. Two. Three. Four...
Seven full carts.
A job meant for ten people over five hours—done by one in just a few.
The rest of the conversion crew had long come and gone. They did their shift, clocked out, and left.
Only Jaemin remained.
He switched off the machine. The quiet throb of the heat faded. The field fell silent.
Jaemin removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair. His scalp was damp. A slow trickle of sweat crawled past his temple.
He looked around for a cloth. No towel. No napkin. He glanced down at his shirt—thought about wiping his face with it—but that would just smear the soot and dust deeper.
"Tsk."
A sharp click of his tongue.
Then—
"Here."
A soft voice.
A hand extended from the side, offering a clean handkerchief and a cool bottle of water.
Jaemin paused.
He didn't hear anyone walk in. Didn't sense anyone either. His eyes turned.
The hand held the bottle steady—fingers delicate but firm. A pulse of quiet strength behind them.
He looked up, meeting the gaze behind the hand.
