Five years later…

 

Tall, sweaty, and well-muscled, Milo steadily mined away the Silver, switching from pickaxe to chisel and hammer with perfectly coordinated ease. Mining alongside several other people, a confident smile made its way across Milo's face as he talked to the people working beside him.

 

Over the past nine years, Milo had grown out of his shell. It wasn't as if one day he just woke up and suddenly he could charm everyone. At first, his heart wouldn't stop pounding, he constantly stumbled over his words, and would often not know what to say at times.

 

But despite the minority of people who replied with a sour attitude, he found that the majority of people were at least somewhat courteous and wouldn't mind talking to him. Some were even very friendly. Talking to people wasn't so bad. It made him happier. He smiled more. He slept better. He laughed more.

 

But Milo was still a [Slave]. A Level 21 [Slave], but it wasn't anything special. The average age that someone would hit Level 25 in this world was 30. Most elderly people were between level 35 and 40, depending on their profession. But with [Workaholic], this average rate of progress did not apply to him at all.

 

With all this time left to himself to just think, he learned that [Workaholic] wasn't anything complicated. He worked fifty per cent faster, and because he was thus able to repeat a task more than other people, he naturally levelled up and learned equivalently faster. He was also fifty per cent more efficient with his energy. Milo just never seemed to tire.

 

Despite having picked up 3 AS points, he didn't choose any skills or abilities. He wasn't planning on staying in the Faringel Slave Mine any longer. After his eventual escape, he would unclass, go back to Level 0 and choose [Farmer] again. Despite the disadvantage he would be putting himself at, it simply wasn't worth being a [Slave] for the rest of his life. He would have to find a way to get rid of the C-shaped mark on his left cheek. It had scarred over in the years since, but it was very noticeable.

 

***

 

Milo said an unusually long goodbye to all of his friends and walked in the darkness to his barracks. The same three guards were there to greet him. He nodded, smiled, and headed inside.

 

It was a stunning difference from when he first walked in here.

 

The walls were clean, it didn't smell like shit, a lamp was lit, two thick straw mats to sleep on which Milo had woven himself, and in the corner by himself, was a wasted Gale.

 

Maybe it was just him, but he noticed that he would only bring a few bottles every night these past few years. Back when he first came here, he would at least have a dozen. Milo thought it was a sign of progress.

 

He walked over and was about to clean up the mess of bottles Gale had left strewn across the ground when a hand grabbed onto his wrist.

 

Milo was taken by surprise.

 

"No…" Gale muttered as he stood up. He let go of Milo and to the young man's shock, Gale picked up the scattered bottles and dropped them inside the barrel that Milo had specifically placed inside as a bin for the bottles.

 

This was the first time that he had ever seen Gale clean up after himself.

 

"I'll start taking care of myself from now on, alright?" Gale said, feeling slightly embarrassed for having Milo clean up for him all these years.

 

Milo smiled gently.

 

"Thank you, Gale."

 

Later, the lamp was extinguished and for the first time in forever, both went to bed on straw mats. To weave Gale's mat had taken Milo an entire month. But the giant was all the more thankful for his efforts. Milo wondered why he began sleeping on the straw mat in the first place. He could've been sleeping in a manor if he wanted.

 

"You're going to escape tonight, right?" Gale suddenly whispered.

 

Milo froze. In the following silence, the guards outside burst into laughter, ringing through the walls and reaching their ears as a dull sound.

 

Milo turned his head.

 

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

 

Milo had already come up with a plan to escape. He had stolen and poisoned one of Gale's wine bottles with Whistleberry. Then he would ask to visit the brothel and offer up the bottle as a gift. They would all collapse unconscious, and then he would jump over the wall right at the moment there was a blind spot in the guard's rotation. If they chased after him, there was farmland right nearby and he would use it to outrun them by relying on [Enduring Work].

 

He had it all laid out.

 

Gale replied, "I just do. You don't have to do all that, lad. You have courage, but that's not enough. I've seen fearless young men with limitless potential and bright futures ahead of them…die in their first battle. I don't want to see that happen to you."

 

The titan of a man sat up. He looked upon Milo with a strange expression. His face twitched as the greying beard on his face upturned, his eyes squinting. His face relaxed the next moment and handed a purple cloak that had appeared out of thin air.

 

Milo blinked several times in rapid succession. Did Gale just summon something out of thin air? One moment his hands were empty and then in the next the purple cloak was there.

 

"Take this. It'll make you invisible," Gale explained.

 

Milo was speechless as he took the purple cloak and proceeded to adorn it. Suddenly, his hands disappeared. He looked down at where his body should be laying and he saw the straw mat instead.

 

Milo couldn't thank Gale enough. He could only say, "Thank you, Gale. Really. Thank you."

 

Gale rubbed his nose and replied, "That cloak isn't anything special to me. Just an old souvenir."

 

Milo stood up and walked around in the cloak, marvelling at its ability to make him invisible.

 

Gale sighed, "Before you leave lad, can you tell me who killed your family? I'm…curious."

 

Over the years, Milo had told Gale about his life before becoming a [Slave]. Whenever he talked about the death of the family and how the rest of his village was massacred, he would always keep it brief or otherwise he wouldn't be able to stop himself from crying.

 

Milo stopped walking around and his face turned cold. He answered, his lips trembling as he remembered the pale face of the [Inquisitor]. "He was called Eminent Nightfall by the other [Inquisitors]. Do you know him?"

 

Gale's eyes widened and he whispered just quiet enough for Milo to hear, "Yes. Yes, I do."

 

"I see. Well then, you better be on your way now. You don't want this selfish old man to weigh you down with his silly words."

 

Milo walked to the door and said to Gale, "Goodbye, Gale. Thanks for everything."

 

Gale gave a silent nod in response.

 

***

 

Milo tip-toed as he approached the front gate entrance to the Faringel Slave Mine. He was scared to even breathe as he climbed up the stairwell of the left watch tower. It was wooden, so if the floorboards creaked under him, he was afraid that the passing guard would suspect something.

 

Pressing his back against the wall, his pounding heart slowed down when the guard finally passed. Reaching the top of the watchtower, he saw the guard on the adjacent wall, his spear held at his side, and his eyes staring into the distance absentmindedly.

 

Milo crept forward onto the wall and took a look down the wall. The drop was about three meters. In his previous life, he would've hurt something. Wouldn't be able to walk properly for a while

 

But with 34 vitality, Milo didn't feel a thing as he dropped down, falling into a squat at the end of his fall. There was a slit thud as he landed. The guard on the wall was alerted. The guard looked down and saw nothing.

 

"Probably a rabbit," the guard mumbled to himself as he shrugged.

 

***

 

Later that night, Gale stepped outside of his barrack and stared into the twinkling night sky. His face was relaxed and full of awe as he examined his surroundings. The air was cold and tickled his skin. His mind was empty as he felt his legs move on their own, slowly disappearing into the darkness.

 

His eyes were sombre and downturned as he took one last look at his hands, the barracks, and the guards chatting back and forth in the boring silence. He felt a sense of loss. He regretted.

 

But he could only move forward.

 

He disappeared into the dark of night, never to return.