To be honest, this voucher that lets him spend two and a half years in a random movie world was quite interesting. In fact, it even had a certain entertainment value. After all, everything about it was random—if you were lucky, you might enjoy a period of extravagant, debauched living. But if your luck was terrible…
For example, if you transmigrated into Batman.
Sure, becoming Batman sounded wonderful—extremely exciting, even.
But what if, during those two and a half years, you ended up at the exact moment right after seeing your parents lying dead in an alley?
Now that would be hilariously tragic.
"But holding onto this thing is pointless either way. I might as well use it." Edward looked at the voucher in his hand. If the time inside was unstable and didn't freeze the real world, then it wouldn't mean much to him. But since traveling inside it didn't affect the flow of time in his own world, Edward certainly didn't mind giving it a try.
"Use!" Edward chose to activate it without hesitation.
"The hell is this supposed to be?! What kind of 'main character treatment' is this?!" Edward cursed nonstop, opening his mouth with eighteen-rated insults and closing it with a figurative ancestral grave robbery.
He had transmigrated into… a mine slave.
And not just any mine slave, but the kind living with constant life-threatening danger, unable to guarantee his own survival from one day to the next. The only good news was that he had gained a unique "golden finger" system that allowed him to allocate skill points. This made Edward's expression turn slightly complicated.
Fine, this was technically something a main character would get, but the problem was—he only had two and a half years!
He would have preferred transmigrating into the pampered young master of a feudal noble family. At least then he could drink wine and listen to music in brothels.
"Fine… I'll use a skill point then." Edward sighed. His Pokémon hadn't followed him here, and right now the only thing he could do was activate a skill called "Unity of Knowledge and Action."
A faint light flickered. Edward watched as the "Unity of Knowledge and Action" skill on his golden finger panel lit up, and beneath it, a brand-new talent slot appeared with the words [Glow of Fireflies].
He had no idea what this "Glow of Fireflies" talent was supposed to do.
Right now, he couldn't unlock it, so he couldn't view its description. He could only wait for the next chance to allocate talent points.
Edward tightened his grip on the mining pick, took a deep breath, and continued striking the ore in front of him, one swing at a time.
"If I ever use another voucher like this, I'm a damned dog!" he muttered angrily.
With a loud rumble, a chunk of pitch-black ore streaked with bright blue veins fell from the hard rock wall and crashed onto the ground.
Edward's hands stung a little, but perhaps it was just his imagination—his strength felt slightly greater than before?
"Kid, seems like you're pretty lucky today, huh?" Nearby, old Bart noticed the scene, shot Edward a surprised glance, and pulled a notebook from his coat.
"Looks like Lady Luck is finally standing on my side." Edward couldn't help feeling pleased.
Ever since he was brought to this lightless mine, he had worked for a week already. Each day's job consisted solely of mining these ores—ores that, when unearthed, produced thunder-like booming noises.
Because of that, they called these ores Thunder Stones—a very simple name.
And digging one out didn't mean rest time. The only reward was receiving one extra energy bar during mealtime.
"Hah! Then Lady Luck must let me lift her skirt every day!" Old Bart laughed. He could dig around ten Thunder Stones a day.
But that didn't mean Thunder Stones were easy to extract. Their hardness was absurd. Previously, Edward needed an entire day just to mine one.
Old Bart skillfully recorded the find, then picked up the basket on the ground and swept the area meticulously, ensuring not a single fragment was left behind before carrying everything off for delivery.
These ores had to be delivered immediately to the "Black Dogs."
Otherwise, the entire work group would be executed.
The Black Dogs had no concept of sparing anyone from collective punishment. Their favorite pastime was execution—the more they killed, the happier they became.
After Bart left, Edward continued mining while thinking about his golden finger. If he wanted to escape this place, live a comfortable life, and enjoy the classic protagonist treatment where beauties cry for his embrace, he could only rely on his golden finger.
Rubbing his temples, Edward swung the pickaxe hard.
The huge recoil made his hands throb painfully, though the sensation was slightly less unbearable than before.
"Hey, Edward!"
A low voice called. Edward sighed helplessly. He really didn't want to respond, but knowing the person's personality, he still turned his head.
Roland.
Roland had bright golden hair, piercing blue eyes, and handsome features—someone who would be a certified heartthrob in Edward's previous world. But he was a scumbag.
Let it be said again: Roland was a scumbag.
No one in the entire mine liked him. Edward had heard people whisper at night that even the big pervert locked in the next section—whose orientation had gone astray after long confinement—didn't like Roland.
That guy was notorious. Anyone targeted by him would have difficulty escaping a fate of "man-on-man tragedy," and he especially liked going after good-looking men. But even he refused to target Roland.
Probably because Roland was simply too disgusting.
Roland had previously ratted someone out. Someone tried to hide a fragment of Thunder Stone, and Roland reported it to the Black Dogs. The entire group was executed that day, while Roland received a bar of soap as a reward—along with meal privileges equivalent to a squad leader.
Every benefit he had was drenched in the blood of his fellow workers. Even Edward spat on the ground whenever he thought about it.
"Want some water?" Roland looked around, then raised the water bottle in his hand. His smile was gentle and natural.
Edward swallowed dryly.
Saying he didn't want it would be a lie. This was clean water—the kind only squad leaders drank—and Roland was the next person allowed to have some.
But Edward still shook his head and kept mining.
He cursed internally again. What kind of garbage "protagonist treatment" was this?
Who starts a story with the protagonist suffering for half a day?!
He wanted a proper shounen-style storyline!
And if he drank Roland's water, he could forget about living in the mine. The difficulty level of his life would skyrocket.
Nobody liked an informer, but Roland was protected by the Black Dogs. If he died, the Black Dogs would kill many people in retaliation. So, no one dared to touch him—only grind their teeth in hatred.
Seeing Edward refuse, Roland only shrugged, uncapped the bottle, and took a loud, refreshing gulp—as if he were drinking chilled soda on a hot day.
Edward licked his cracked lips. A light bite was enough to peel the dry skin off. Meanwhile, Roland even shook the bottle playfully, letting the sound of water sloshing inside torment him.
He really missed Bart at times like this. When Bart was around, Roland would behave.
"Roland, did you finish your quota for today?" Bart walked back with a frown, set down his basket, and shot Roland a cold look.
Roland immediately calmed down. He glanced nervously at Bart and muttered some faint words—Edward caught fragments like "back then" and "coward."
But Roland still didn't dare actually defy Bart and obediently returned to mining. He hadn't finished his quota yet. Everyone had to dig at least one Thunder Stone per day—failure meant death.
"Edward, ignore that brat," Bart said, wiping his hands before picking up his pickaxe again.
Edward nodded and glanced curiously at Bart. What was his background? How could even Roland behave around him?
Even that big pervert didn't dare target them because of Bart.
But Edward didn't ask. Everyone had secrets, and he himself, as a transmigrator, had his own.
"Filthy scum, drop your tools!"
While Edward was working, chaotic footsteps came from outside. A group of Black Dogs entered, followed by several laborers carrying crates.
All the miners immediately put down their tools and stood obediently.
But Edward noticed something strange—they all looked… happy?
He blinked. He had spent a short time in this mine, but he had never seen a scene like this. Why did everyone seem excited?
"Kid, you don't know what's going on, huh?" Roland's annoying voice came again. Edward's mouth twitched.
Why did this guy insist on talking to him? Because Edward didn't curse him out like everyone else did?
Should he start cursing harder next time?
"Roland, shut your mouth!" Bart glared. Roland grimaced, mumbled something, but shut up.
"Edward, you'll need to put on clothes later. And whatever happens, remember to obey their orders," Bart said, cracking his neck.
This only made Edward more curious. What did Bart mean?
And clothes? Weren't they already wearing… clothes?
Even though they stank to high heaven.
The Black Dogs never provided water for washing. Only squad leaders had the privilege of washing clothes with filthy water. Workers like Edward had to wear the same clothes until they rotted, then receive new "hand-me-downs"—clothes stripped from corpses, sometimes still with bullet holes.
"Strip!"
A squad of Black Dogs approached them with cold, bloodthirsty eyes. Edward could clearly see the beastly fangs protruding from their mouths.
Bart immediately stripped off everything willingly, even licking his lips. Edward was confused but followed suit and removed his clothes.
A Black Dog approached with a water hose. Clean, cold water sprayed out instantly. The icy blast made Edward shiver violently, but he couldn't help opening his mouth wide and gulping down as much water as he could.
This was clean water!
Not the "drinking water" that stayed dirty no matter how long it was left out. Edward finally understood why Bart looked that way.
The cold water flowed down his throat, carrying the distinct metallic taste of tap water. In his previous life Edward would never have drunk something like that, but now it tasted like heavenly nectar.
"Hey, look at these filthy pigs. If we pissed on them, they'd probably drink that too." The Black Dog with the hose said disdainfully. His muzzle's sharp fur looked particularly feral.
Edward heard him, but he didn't care. He only wanted more water.
But soon the hose moved on to the next person.
"If you want to fool around, save it for later. Finish the assignment first."
Another Black Dog held a rifle and watched. Hearing his comrade, he shot him a disgusted glare.
"I was just joking…" the other muttered before resuming his task.
Once everyone was rinsed, an elderly man wearing a strange shackle on his wrist was escorted forward by two Black Dogs. He looked at the gathered miners, then raised his hand and muttered something.
Edward frowned, confused—only to see a wall of fire appear out of thin air. The blazing heat evaporated all the water on their bodies instantly before the old man lowered his hand.
"Magic…?" Edward was stunned.
What kind of world had he transmigrated into?!
Why was there magic?!
But it was actually pretty interesting. Edward suddenly felt more hopeful about getting a real protagonist treatment.
Earlier, when he saw the rifles pointed at them, he thought this was a technological world. But now, watching a man summon a fire wall from nothing, Edward realized he had entered a world with supernatural powers.
But now came the bigger question—if this world had superpowers, why were they enslaved by dog-headed beastmen with guns?
"Hurry up and put on your clothes! And don't you pigs dare dirty them!"
A Black Dog kicked the crate open. Bart stepped forward, and Edward immediately lined up behind him.
Inside the crate were clean clothes—neatly folded, and as a full set?
"Here. Put this on." Bart tossed him a set. The soft fabric made Edward marvel, and he quickly changed into them.
While dressing, he caught a faint herbal fragrance.
In no time, everyone was dressed and lined up neatly.
A bath and new clothes… this definitely felt like a pre-execution last meal.
But Edward had a feeling—
His protagonist journey was about to begin!
(End of Chapter)