Chapter Thirty-Five: Delivery to the Door

“Lord…”

“Sir Colin?”

A warm, pure, gentle radiance, soft and unblinding, flickered before his eyes, accompanied by a voice as comforting as a spring breeze. Slowly, Colin returned to his senses, drifting out from a daze.

He found himself abruptly “awakening,” as though surfacing from underwater, when he saw Shana’s luminous fist so close before him. Only then did he realize that everyone was watching him with worried eyes.

“Did something just happen that we don’t know about?”

Shana withdrew her hand, her voice like a hymn—soothing, serene, carrying a power that calmed the soul and made one feel embraced by spring. Earlier, upon noticing Colin’s pale face and vacant eyes, and finding ordinary means useless to rouse him, she had decisively used some special power.

After all, Shana remembered she had once been a member of the Sunlit Hymn Choir, though she seemed to have later been transferred to another department of the Eternal Sun Church with different duties.

“It’s nothing, just got lost in some thoughts,” Colin replied, rubbing his forehead. Yet, for some reason, while reflecting on matters of population, something crucial had suddenly crossed his mind. He’d become ensnared in a whirlpool of thought, sinking deeper and deeper until he couldn’t snap out of it for a while.

Even now, a sense of unease and palpitations lingered within him, as if some impending misfortune was about to occur, and he was powerless to change or avert it.

Everything suddenly felt urgent…

But when Colin tried to recall what exactly he had been thinking, he found his memory blurred, as if struck by sudden amnesia.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Shana’s crystalline blue eyes fixed on him, abruptly interrupting his thoughts.

“Let’s go to the mine and dig for minerals first. No matter what happens next, we need to proceed step by step,” Colin decided. Whatever the future might hold, what mattered now was to bolster their strength as much as possible.

And explosives—that was power.

Soon, they returned to the saltpeter mine, which was about three meters high and four or five meters wide. The mouth of the cave was pitch-black and clearly harbored some mutated creatures, but Colin received no warnings of grave danger, indicating they likely weren’t very powerful.

Colin carried a lantern, staying vigilant as Shana led the way, the group pressing in behind her as they entered the mine.

Inside, it was dark, cold, and damp, the air thick with a musty, decayed odor. The ground, though worn by countless footsteps, was still relatively even, aside from fallen stones from the ceiling or cave walls.

The mine was supported by thick wooden beams of unknown origin, forming long corridors about two meters high. Every few meters, they had to duck their heads to pass through rectangular sections. The deeper they went, the narrower it became; the distant sound of dripping water heightened their tension.

And since this mine was particularly damp, combined with the nature of saltpeter, the deeper they went, the colder it became—unlike other mines, which grew hotter as one descended.

Whether by luck or fate, they had yet to encounter any mutated beasts. After a brief further walk, Colin and the others finally reached the mining area.

The walls here were encrusted with large amounts of colorless, white, or gray crystalline minerals.

Without delay, Colin used some rough iron ingots and wood he’d bought earlier from the trading market to quickly craft six iron pickaxes.

Clang, clang—

Number Two immediately led several men in hacking away at the walls. As soon as they struck loose a piece, Colin would store it directly in his pack and mix it on-site.

The others, armed with iron axes, stood guard in case monsters broke in and caught them off guard.

Minutes passed—ten, then twenty—and not a single sound of monsters could be heard. The cavern was as silent as the grave.

Suddenly, a faint tapping echoed. Only then did Colin notice that his men on guard, braced against the cold, were shivering uncontrollably in the frigid mine.

Clad in nothing but shorts and ragged shirts, these poor souls eyed their mining comrades with a hint of envy on their faces.

“Miss Shana, do you have any spells for warmth?” Colin recalled that her healing magic could bring warmth.

Shana looked troubled and hesitated. “Well… I do, but my mana is limited. I can’t maintain it for long—ten minutes is my maximum…”

What? Ten minutes is your limit too? Colin muttered inwardly.

After a moment’s thought, he abandoned the idea of relying on her spells and called out, “Everyone, rotate every ten minutes—ten minutes of mining, then ten minutes of rest! Start the shift rotation now!”

He wanted everyone to share in the glory of labor.

“Hooray!”

“Praise the Lord!”

A few of the servants, clutching axes, cheered in excitement, seizing the pickaxes from their comrades and swinging them with vigor. For a time, the only sound was the clang of iron striking stone as each servant worked with all their might, their faces aglow with determination.

Shana, however, did not join the miners. Her unique constitution and magic kept her from feeling the cold, and she understood the importance of safety. If she mined, productivity would certainly rise, but in the event of an emergency, the weaker servants would be the first to fall. So she had no complaints about standing aside.

Ten minutes, half an hour, an hour—nearly two hours passed…

Under Colin’s direction, the mine became far less cramped, much more spacious than before. As their skill grew, Colin’s speed in preparing explosives increased as well.

By now, nearly two tons of black powder had accumulated in his pack—a staggering amount.

“Good thing my pack is compartmentalized and nothing shifts inside. While it’s not as absolutely still as the trading market, as long as nothing touches it, it’s essentially in stasis. Otherwise, if this stuff blew up in my pack, I’d be blasted into the heavens…”

The thought alone made Colin shudder.

After all, this was two tons of explosives!

Wait—now it’s three tons…

The rate at which he was producing black powder far outstripped his expectations.

But at that moment, Colin’s expression suddenly shifted, growing peculiar, as he noticed a message.

[Through subtle vibrations, faint sounds, or perhaps simply intuition—something that most would not perceive—you sense that someone is approaching this area.]

[After some consideration, you conclude… they are survivors, like yourself.]