Extra And Villain: The Evil Duo

 The ground was dry and rough, colored in a deep reddish-brown, like old clay that had been baked under a harsh sun.

It looked empty and lifeless indicating it's dire state.

The land was full of deep pits and wide trenches. Black soil had been dug out and piled into tall hills.

All around, hundreds of people moved as they carried utensils and various equipments while climbing mountains.

They worked without stopping like they had done this every day for a long time.

But not everything was easy to see.

Some parts of the mine were hidden by strong magic. These areas were covered by invisible barriers, and from the outside, they looked like empty air.

However, Azael knew the truth— inside those hidden places, the real mining was happening. 

And to guard these particular places, high towers for guards were placed at several distances between them to watch the slaves there.

On top of each one was a magic lantern, glowing with a steady light. These lanterns lit up the mining area, keeping it bright even in the dark. Their soft light spread across the ground, making sure no part of the mine was left in shadow.

Guards stood in the towers and along the paths between them. Each one had a fixed place to stand and a part of the mine to watch. They didn't move or talk much. They were there to make sure nothing went wrong—and that no one got too close to the hidden areas.

From where he stood, Azael watched it all. The quiet workers, the glowing lights, the hidden zones, and the guards standing still like statues. 

Then suddenly a guard behind him gave a rough shove, urging him forward.

Without protest, Azael and the three men beside him stepped onto the reddish terrain of the mine.

As he walked deeper, the scale of the operation unfolded—workers moved their hands with great effort to find the resources present.

To an outsider, it would seem strange—why weren't they using magic?

But Azael knew better. He'd played the game this world mirrored down to its smallest detail.

The crystals were more than just luminous stones. They held essence—a rare force capable of enhancing a person's talent, sometimes even awakening dormant potential. But the truth behind them went even deeper.

These weren't ordinary crystals.

They were remnants—what was left of ancient dragon ARCANEs. Yes, dragons. Long ago, dragons had roamed this world in great numbers. But an all-out war with an omniscient being had wiped them out.

Who that being was… that was a tale for another time.

The crystals formed when the dragons' bones fused with their lingering arcane power—an impossible, powerful alchemy.

No one knew how such a thing was even possible, or who had cast the spell that created them. But the result was this: raw, unstable magic sealed within shimmering stone.

In the game, only a few players ever discovered these mines, and even then, only after years of searching.

The essence inside was so potent that only the unawakened—those without a mystic core—could touch them without being consumed.

That was why so many slaves had died here.

Azael, fortunately, hadn't awakened his core yet. That's what kept him safe—for now.

And why, despite not having a core, could he still perform basic arcane or arts? That was because Azael was no ordinary person.

The body that Samael now inhabited had been cursed—but it had also been blessed. It carried an extraordinary gift: an "incardulous" body, capable of things others could never dream of.

Even without a core, Azael had pushed himself to master basic ARCANEs through pure will and genius.

But he'd hidden that gift all his life. It had been wasted—buried with his name.

Until now.

Now, Samael lived as Azael. And he wasn't going to let that talent rot again.

He would rise, awaken his core, and unlock his full potential.

But first, he had to escape this place.

Walking the barren, dusty path of the mine, Azael's sharp eyes scanned every crack, every detail, searching for a way out.

The guards led Azael and the thugs toward a large working zone. They passed through a gate guarded by more soldiers. As Azael crossed it, he felt a change in the air—a pulse of magic.

A barrier. Thick, dark, humming with arcane energy.

That confirmed it: this part of the mine contained pure crystals—dangerous ones.

And the guards weren't taking any chances.

Inside, dozens of workers pounded at a massive rock with worn-out hammers.

Strangely, the crystals didn't shatter easily, meaning these tools were likely enchanted to a degree, or the crystals were tougher than they looked.

"This is your assigned area," one of the guards said, his voice sharp and dismissive. "You work until the closing siren. No breaks."

He gave a few quick instructions, then left the group behind without another glance.

As Azael expected, the guards didn't bother warning them about the danger—about what happened when awakened mystics touched raw crystal.

He didn't know how many of the thugs beside him had awakened, and frankly, he didn't care.

Telling them would only raise questions. Complicate things. And besides… their fates were already sealed.

Azael, Tarek, Milo, and Hardin crouched behind a ridge, watching as the last of the guards moved off to their posts.

The clang of armor and boots slowly faded into the distance, leaving the quiet group behind.

As soon as the coast was clear, Tarek broke the silence, his voice casual and upbeat.

"Relax, man," he said, glancing at Milo with a grin. "This just looks like a standard mining operation. We've handled worse. No reason to get all jumpy."

Azael didn't reply, rolling his shoulders he let out a tired sigh and picked up a heavy hammer from a nearby crate.

Without a word, he started walking toward the mining zone, his calm and steady figure moved under the pale light of lanterns.

Milo frowned, his eyes drifting back to the strange, glowing blue beyond the magic barriers. The light wasn't like anything he'd seen before making him feel unsettling.

Pursuing his lips, Milo looked at Tarek.

"I don't know, Tarek," he said quietly. "That glow... it feels wrong. It's not like any material I've seen before. Something about it just... gives me a bad feeling."

Tarek snorted and gave Milo a teasing look. "Seriously? You're scared of a little light?" He pointed his finger toward Azael. "See? That kid has more guts than you. You should be ashamed of yourself for being an adult."

Milo narrowed his eyes but didn't answer.

Hardin stood behind them, silent as ever. He heard every word, and though he didn't say it out loud, he felt the same tightness in his chest that Milo did. Something about this place wasn't right. Still, he pushed the thought aside as doubts wouldn't help to ease the mind.

He gripped a worn pickaxe, slung it over his shoulder, and followed after Azael.

Hardin had already moved ahead, blending into the quiet rhythm of work, his figure slowly disappearing into the shadows between the mining pits. But the other two lingered behind, still caught in their back-and-forth.

Tarek leaned against a broken cart, smirking as he glanced at Milo. "You know," he said, "for a guy who carries around a dagger-like it's part of his arm, you sure scare easy. I bet if that glowing stuff started talking, you'd be pissing your pants."

Milo rolled his eyes. "I'm just saying we should be careful. This place feels... off."

Tarek chuckled. "You say that everywhere feels off. The forest felt off. The ruins felt off. Even if we camped in your grandma's garden, you'd still say something felt cursed."

Milo opened his mouth to reply, but Tarek waved him off with a grin.

"Come on," he said, pushing off the cart. "Let's move. We shouldn't hang around too long. If the guards catch us poking around, we'll have real trouble."

He grabbed a hammer from a crate and slung it over his shoulder. Milo hesitated, then did the same, following his friend's lead.

Just as they walked forward, ready to join the others, a sudden scream tore through the air ahead.

"AAARRGH—GRAAAHHH!!"

It was raw and full of pain—a cry so sharp and sudden it seemed to cut through the air itself. Both Tarek and Milo froze at thier spot.

The sound echoed between the black hills, followed by silence so heavy it felt like the whole mine had stopped breathing.

Milo's face went pale, his breath caught in his throat as his legs refused to move.

Tarek dropped his hammer with a sharp clatter, his eyes wide and lips trembled as he was too shocked to speak.

Both stared in frozen silence, the air thick with dread, as the cold weight of fear wrapped around their chests.

"H..h..how can t...this be real?!"