Black Raven's Captain
As evening fell, the chill air pierced my lungs.
"Everyone, stop work! That's it for today!"
The moment the overseer's command rang out, I dropped my pickaxe and collapsed to the ground, catching my breath. My arms—and my entire body—ached from the nonstop labor.
Still can't get used to this.
Even after ten years in this hellhole, the pain never dulled. Maybe it was my memories from my past life making it hit harder. Every muscle screamed in protest, no exaggeration.
"Haa…."
Separate from the soreness, I was utterly drained. How much longer did I have to endure this?
Office overtime sounds better right now. That was no joke. I'd take company all-nighters over this any day. Beatings and punishments were daily routine here. Overseers whipped kids just to kill time. Could there be a deeper hell than this?
But the worst part? The food.
"Whew, time for that nightmare again?"
It should have been a relief, but all I could do was sigh. I'd sooner eat dirt than this slop. The dining area had no chairs or tables—just dust-caked floors where we sat like animals.
"Even eating's a chore here."
The line snaked long as soon as I arrived. I shuffled to the end. This was our hard-earned break after grueling work, the one time we could chatter freely. The kids lit up, chattering away now that the chains were off, if only briefly. Their joy at the end of the shift was pitiful.
Who's worrying about who here? I was just another slave in this pit.
Most had been sold or kidnapped young. Few survived to adulthood in these conditions. It made sense—kids worked to death in dust-choked mines wouldn't grow properly. The problem? I was no different.
Any way out of here?
The thought had looped in my head all shift. Escape. Unfortunately, nothing solid came to mind. Security was airtight: guards patrolling the underground tunnels, artifact CCTVs in every zone. Try to bolt, and your whole bunk got collective punishment—snitching was encouraged, with rewards for rats. Who'd dare dream of freedom under that?
Captured escapees faced merciless "punishment." Or rather, death. I recalled the kids who'd failed before.
All dead.
Simple justice: beaten until they stopped breathing, right in front of everyone, screaming. That sight killed most escape dreams. These kids knew nothing of normal life anyway—raised as mine slaves, the outside world was alien. Even if they fled, what then? No skills, no clue how to survive. Better the devil they knew than uncertain terror.
But I'm different.
This was double hell for me. I didn't know the exact location, but my past-life memories changed everything. I glanced around slowly. Overseers prowled even during meals, watching us like hawks.
Die working or die running—same difference. Living like this, I wouldn't last long.
Lost in thoughts of my next move, it was suddenly my turn.
"What're you waiting for? You want it or not?"
The girl doling out portions gave me a puzzled look. Gray hair that somehow suited this grim place.
"Yeah, gimme."
I shoved my tray forward. She slopped in some crumbly brown mush. Looked like it could kill appetite on sight. But here, you ate to survive, not for taste.
"More."
"…More of this?"
She arched a brow, her face screaming what a freak. Fair enough—begging for extra of this vile slop was weird. But my answer was set.
"Yeah, pile it on. Lots."
I'd survive this. My body was a starved wreck; one swing of the pickaxe could drop me dead. Even this garbage would build stamina if I shoveled enough.
"F-Fine. Eat up, weirdo…."
She piled it high with a reluctant frown. Weirdo? Whatever. Labels didn't matter—escape was my only goal.
"Thanks."
I dropped to the filthy ground nearby.
"……."
They worked us to the bone for this? Mystery brown sludge was all we got. At least they provided trays and spoons—count our blessings.
I scooped a spoonful. "
…Disgusting."
The rancid stench hit first, then the sour-bitter sludge. Was this even food? To survive, I forced it down.
"Urk…."
Suppressing gags, I crammed it in. Every instinct screamed to spit it out, but I held. This was my only nutrition.
I'll get out. For real.
The more I ate, the fiercer my resolve. "
Fuck."
The curse slipped out. I polished it off and headed to wash up. You cleaned your own tray, naturally. The "water"? Murky sludge that wrinkled my nose. As I scrubbed the back…
"……?"
Something etched there. If I weren't familiar, I'd have missed it.
"A crest?"
Faint, but unmistakable.
I know this.
From the game I grinded: Isekai Conqueror. I'd recognize it anywhere. And it was…
Hailstone Principality.
Why was the crest of the Hailstone Principality on a mine tray? Why hadn't I noticed? I'd only regained my memories hours ago—without them, I'd never have known.
"Ha."
Who'd guess this was the Isekai Conqueror world?
If Hailstone exists, so does the Arcadia Empire.
Knowing the world didn't mean instant escape. But intel was power—it'd shape my path. Once out, game knowledge would keep me alive.
Now we're talking.
A sliver of hope sparked. Then—
[…9%, 10%… Synchronization rate has reached 10%.]
[You can now issue commands to Black Raven.]
[Captain of Black Raven, welcome back.]
* * *
Ariel sensed the captain's presence and immediately informed the others.
"…The Captain has returned!"
Her voice trembled with emotion. The moment they'd all awaited had arrived.
The old swordsman reacted. "I-Is that true? Are you certain the Captain is back?"
"Yes, no doubt. It's definitely his aura!"
Her confident reply lit up the old man's eyes. White hair, deep wrinkles, yet sharp features—Walter.
"Hah… So the Captain has finally returned…."
Ten years. The Captain had vanished ten years ago. Now he was back. Tears welled in Walter's eyes.
"Ariel, where is the Captain?"
Walter never doubted her. As a high elf who communed with the World Tree, she was special. Useless now that the tree was gone, but she'd unlocked a new gift: sensing the Captain's will. It made her invaluable in Black Raven, propelling her to vice-captain.
They'd scoured the continent for him, led by her, but found nothing. Yet faith kept them going. Walter especially—he owed the Captain everything. From Black Raven's early days, the Captain had elevated him from nothing to Sword Saint.
Walter drew his long-dormant sword, a gift from the Captain. No mere blade—it outshone famed legendaries.
Ten years already?
He recalled the last order before the Captain vanished:
"Monitor Count Renfield of the Arcadia Empire."
He'd set out, but the Captain's disappearance derailed it. After, Walter sheathed his sword for good. No reason without his lord. Age had crept in; mentoring Ariel and grooming Black Raven's future was his best loyalty now.
Or so I thought.
Things had changed. The Captain was back.
I can show him this old blade hasn't rusted.
Walter itched to meet him, but Ariel shook her head.
"Sadly, I can't pinpoint the location yet. But I'm tracking his aura—good news soon."
"……."
Disappointment flickered, but he smiled. The Captain always thought ahead. His vanishing, his caution now—there were reasons. Walter resolved to hold the fort until full return.
"How fares the Arcadia Empire?"
His eyes sharpened. A noble had recently defected: Count Renfield. Slipped surveillance in the Captain's absence. Black Raven wasn't forgiving. They had a department for traitors. Renfield met a gruesome end.
With him gone, what would the Empire's intelligence do? Walter wouldn't tolerate threats, empire or not. His Sword Saint prowess remained; he'd go down with the ship for Captain and Black Raven.
"Don't worry, Walter. We sent a warning—they won't move rashly. Focus on internal cleanup now."
Mistakes might have happened without the Captain, but no more. Ariel whispered to the void.
"Reaper."
A masked man emerged from shadows.
"The Captain has returned. As of now, we revive the High Council. With it, Yudices and Noctis regain full authority."
Black Raven pursued perfection. But with the Captain back, it wasn't enough.
Ariel declared solemnly.
"Black Raven's alert level rises to maximum. In the High Council's name, we begin the purge."
Black Raven would transcend perfection into absolute flawlessness.