Chapter 2: Unbreakable Spirits
A giant boulder hurtled through the air before slamming into a larger pile of rubble, collapsing into scattered debris. The remains of the rock had joined a haphazard mountain of sediment which was currently the size of an average house, a clear sign of the workmanship of this district's inhabitants. Within the Cragster District, a large team of miners were working themselves to the bone like any other day, launching boulders, clearing away debris, and transporting minecarts loaded to the brim with Cubit ore of every color imaginable.
Most likely due to the chemical makeup of the ground which it was built upon, the Cragsters District was home to a massive quarry, housing one of the biggest underground Cubit ore veins this side of the planet. For the most part, the Cubits found inside were those meant for Cragsters, but it was also not uncommon to find varieties for multiple other tribes as well, and, if one was lucky, a Rainbow Cubit or two. As Cubits were the lifeblood of Mixel society, this vein quite literally fueled Mixopolis and its inhabitants, making the jobs of the Cragsters who managed it some of the most crucial in the city. Fortunately, their tribe was used to tunneling deep, deep underneath the surface, so Cubit ore was usually shipped out and refined for use within a day or more.
Pushing a minecart on the brink of overflowing up along a steep, inclining track, a large, bulky Cragster clambered to the top, exerting every last bit of his stamina. He finally reached the end, pausing to wipe dust off his brow. As he gazed around, he took in the all-too familiar landscape of the quarry site: rubble and giant rocks strewn between refining equipment, all tinted with the orange hue of a late afternoon sun.
He leaned back on the minecart, savoring the moment. It was quite often that he would lose track of time, falling into the monotonous rhythm of mining deep below for Cubits. He would spend what felt like eternities in the darkness of the caverns and tunnels, his only lighting being sparsely placed torches at every other junction or so. Granted, it wasn't much of an issue since Cragsters naturally had excellent night vision, but the shining city on the surface, illuminated by radiant sunlight, was always a welcome sight. It put a new perspective on both his job and his lifestyle.
A loud clattering from his left interrupted the Cragster's thoughts, catching his attention. A second cart filled with Cubits gradually made its way to the top, pushed by a reptilian Cragster with a golden carapace. The moment they reached the top of the track, the second Cragster slumped over, exhausted from the arduous climb. Once he had finally caught his breath, he turned his head, noticing his colleague's minecart. His eyes lit up upon seeing the multicolored mound of crystals inside.
"Woah, that's a huge load, Granitore! How do you keep doing that every single day?" the Cragster said enthusiastically. His own cart was just shy of full, most of the ore inside as gray as the stone from which it was unearthed – evidently, he didn't go much farther than the upper levels of the quarry.
Just doing my job, Augrit," Granitore replied, shrugging. Augrit continued his praise, however. "Don't be so modest, man," he chuckled, rising off of the minecart. "What you do really is impressive. You go down there just like all the rest of us, and yet you keep bringing up more Cubits than anyone! What's your secret?"
"Natural Cragster strength, I guess," Granitore replied. "That's all, honestly."
Augrit rolled his eyes. Granitore was known for being a relatively quiet Cragster, only speaking when he thought it was necessary – "the Silent Titan", his coworkers called him. It came as no surprise, then, that he kept his answers as succinct as possible. Maybe it was just his natural strength, but who knew for sure? Augrit didn't, but he certainly wanted to.
"Whatever you say, pal," he scoffed. "Now then, what say we get all these Cubits over to the ol' Brush-o-matic? We only gots so much time left, after all." Granitore simply nodded, the only response Augrit needed. Lifting up their carts, they dumped the contents of both into even larger tools resembling wheelbarrows carved from stone, designed to hold at least two carts' worth of precious ore. The duo set off, the sound of concrete wheels grinding against the rugged, coarse ground soon filling the air.
It was a rather long trip to the Brush-o-matic, as it was located directly on the other side of the mining site. Thus, the two Cragsters would often pass the time by discussing an assortment of topics: their general days, rare finds in the mine, whispers of gossip floating around the workplace, and so forth. Today was no different, with Augrit contributing to most of the conversation and Granitore replying periodically. It was a part of the simplistic rhythm that defined their everyday lives, one both appreciated equally.
At one point, however, Augrit turned to his friend, a glint in his eye. "Can I ask you something, Granitore?" he asked.
"Sure," the bulky Cragster replied.
"Do you ever wish for something more in your life?"
Granitore turned to the gold-plated Mixel, raising an eyebrow. Among all the questions they'd regularly exchange, this was a new one. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Y'know, more than…this!" Augrit replied, gesturing toward the entirety of the mining site. "Like, don't get me wrong, I like this job, and I like hanging out with you and others, but sometimes…I wish my life was more fulfilling, more meaningful. Where I actually have a goal, a purpose beyond digging up Cubits day after day." His expression turned wistful as he gazed up into space, slowing his pace momentarily. "Take me, for example. I've always wanted to see more of the world beyond Mixopolis, and scour the lands to my heart's content – just a lone explorer, discovering all the world has to offer." He turned back to his friend, his eyes somewhat hopeful. "My point is, do you ever feel that way? Like you feel as if you're destined for more?"
Granitore turned away, taking time to process all he'd heard. By nature, he was a very thoughtful Mixel, and often put a lot of time into constructing his replies, ensuring they were as appropriate and formal as possible. He valued the importance of answering honestly and thoughtfully, believing it to be one of the greatest qualities of any Mixel. Augrit knew this as well, and had learned to be patient when talking to Granitore, which paid off immensely.
After a few moments of silence, Granitore turned back to face Augrit. "That's an interesting question," he said, somewhat slowly. "I'm mostly content with my life right now. I have everything I need: a comfortable home, a stable job, good friends, everything a Mixel needs, really." His face then turned thoughtful, more so than usual. "Now that you mention it, though…I do feel that way, to some extent," he continued. "If I had to name it specifically, I think I-"
A small boulder whizzed by, mere inches away from the two, cutting off Granitore in the process. The sounds of discord arose from one end of the quarry, prompting both Cragsters to turn toward the source. Near a pile of large boulders, two other Mixels were bickering amongst themselves, such that they were loud enough to be heard across the entire site. One was short and stocky with spiky growths along his chest and face, the other was thinner and more wiry, with a long tail ending in a gray spiraled tip and patches of yellow and red dotting his craggy body.
"Are those two still at it? They've been arguing since we last headed down!" complained Augrit, watching the ongoing squabble with disdain.
"What's it this time?" Granitore replied.
"From what I could pick up, Excava thinks Pebblime is working too slowly on the boulders, and Pebblime isn't too happy that Excava is trying to get the rubble cleared up quicker. Says it messes with his workflow, I think," Augrit said. "Doesn't help that Excava is half-Weldo either – you know how much of a purist ol' Pebbly is."
Granitore sighed. If there was one thing he disliked most, it was unnecessary conflict, especially between his friends and colleagues. Not only was it heavily distracting, it fostered negativity and discord, things Granitore believed had no place in Mixel society. As such, he had taken it upon himself to become the mining site's resident peacekeeper, and was generally responsible for diffusing most of the conflicts that occurred, such as this particular situation.
He let go of his sedibarrow, the multicolored contents clattering as it was released from his grip. "Be right back," he murmured, lumbering off toward the scene of the argument. Augrit didn't object – he understood Granitore's obligations and role just as much as any of his colleagues did, and knew it was best to let him resolve the issue.
With a gradual but imposing stride, the golem-like Cragster soon made his way to the other two Mixels, who were arguing like a pair of vultabeaks fighting over food, oblivious to how increasingly distracting they were becoming. By the time he had reached them, their speech had become significantly clearer, their gravelly voices echoing throughout the mining site.
"For last time, you focus on your pile!" Pebblime barked, waving his arms about in frustration. "Me not need you getting in me way all the time!"
"Me just trying to help!" Excava shouted back. "Not me fault you slower than crippled Mixaplotapuss!"
"Not me fault you no do job right because you half-Weldo mix-mess!"
This set off Excava's temper like a ticking time bomb, his drill-like tail beginning to spin rapidly as his face contorted with rage. "What you call me?!" he roared, lunging at the stockier Cragster with all the power of a feral Tigerscorp.
A large hand abruptly intercepted his assault, however. Excava looked up in confusion, only to see Granitore towering above him, his expression stern. "That's enough," he stated, his tone firm and straightforward. "This has gone on too long."
"Leave us alone, Granitore!" Excava replied, still agitated. "This not your business."
"Actually, it is my business, because it's my personal responsibility to ensure my workplace is as peaceful as possible, and not filled with a bunch of disruptive Mixels squabbling like children," Granitore snapped back, taking both Mixels by surprise. It was rare for Granitore to speak in such a forceful manner, much less so verbosely. Whenever he did, however, it was an immediate signal to back down and remain silent, lest one provoke him further.
Granitore sighed, his expression softening. "Look," he said, his tone gentler now. "You both have different ways of going about this, so just stay out of each other's ways for now. It'll be better for you both. Alright?" Pebblime and Excava turned to each other, sharing looks of skepticism. Pebblime was the first to reply.
"Fine," he acquiesced, sighing. "Me guess me go off to west side." He glared at the Weldo/Cragster hybrid, his expression colder than Frosticon ice. "But you stay away from now on."
"Planning on it," Excava retorted. He then turned back to Granitore, his expression regretful. "Sorry for trouble and all that."
Granitore silently nodded, before trudging off as the two workers went their separate ways, taking their piles of rocky debris with them. As he walked, a subtle smile emerged on his face. It certainly wasn't fun to always act as everyone's mediator – he knew that much – but he always felt a sense of satisfaction afterward, knowing he helped others take that little bit of stress off their backs. That alone, along with his desire to promote harmony among all the Mixels he knew, was enough to keep him going with every day that passed.
He soon reunited with Augrit, who greeted him with an eager smile. "Everything sorted out?" the gold-plated Cragster asked. Granitore nodded once more, and the two continued their path, the sedibarrows' rattling cacophony resuming.
"Y'know, I like that about you," Augrit commented.
"Like what?" Granitore asked.
"The way you're always willing to help other Mixels sort out their issues, no matter how big it is. I get you're doing it to be a peacekeeper and all, but it's still really admirable, y'know?"
Granitore chuckled softly. "Again, just doing my job," he replied. Augrit playfully rolled his eyes at that statement. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said. "That reminds me – what were you going to say you wanted most? Before you left?"
Granitore paused, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Despite having a razor-sharp memory, the ruckus between Pebblime and Excava had broken his concentration, and it took him a second or two longer to recall the initial question. The more he thought it over, however, the more he was uncertain of his answer. Was it really what he strived for? Or was he really content with his life after all? He was no stranger to profound, thought-provoking questions, yet why did this one make him so irresolute?
He turned back to his friend after several more moments, a calm façade masking his uncertainty. "Actually, I think I forgot," Granitore said somewhat sheepishly, prompting a small frown from Augrit. "Don't worry, though," the larger Cragster continued. "Once it comes back to me, I'll be sure to let you know."
After many minutes, the duo finally reached the Brush-o-matic, its imposing structure accented by the dwindling, albeit luminous glow of the setting Lightbulb Sun. It was a gigantic contraption, consisting of a vast network of pulleys, conveyor belts and the numerous brushes that were its namesake. As it churned and whirred, smashing and brushing raw Cubit ore into the refined, uniformly shaped cuboids ubiquitous in Mixel society, a large Cragster overlooked it from a ledge, with large mottled plates on his body that gave him the appearance of a tortapod. As he saw the two approaching, he leapt down from the ledge, landing with a powerful impact that made the ground tremble around him.
"Ah, Granitore, Augrit, good to see you both work hard today," Tremmarc, the boss of the quarry, noted, looking over the veritable piles of Cubit ore before him. "Just dump into chute over there. Last load of day anyways."
The two miners obliged, funneling the contents of both sedibarrows into a large, transparent chute which connected to the rest of the massive machine. As the raw ore was sucked away into the heart of the Brush-o-matic, the turbines and motors within roared with reinvigorated energy, processing the ore at breakneck speed.
"Anything else we can do, boss? Just to help out a bit more?" Augrit inquired, setting his sedibarrow aside. "No, no, you guys good," Tremmarc replied. "Just set those over there and you done for today." As Augrit ushered his sedibarrow over to an expansive lot, followed by Granitore, Tremmarc turned back toward the Brush-o-matic, gazing at the mechanical marvel as it produced a myriad of multicolored, evenly cut ores.
He grinned as he looked on. "This thing run smoother than ever lately," he muttered to himself. "With all this ore, we going to make big, big mucks, and Mixopolis keep on thriving all the while."
His eyes drifted back to the other two Cragsters, who were making their way back from the lot as he spoke. "And it thanks to them," he continued under his breath. "Me glad me hire them."
Granitore sauntered over to his boss as Augrit exhaled a sigh of relief, glad to finally be done for the day, before walking off elsewhere. The two were among the largest and bulkiest Cragsters of the mining team, perhaps even their tribe, so Tremmarc found it easier to talk to Granitore than other Mixels, even if the latter didn't talk much to begin with.
"Something on your mind, sir?" the golem-like Mixel asked.
"Just staring at ol' Brush-o-matic again," Tremmarc replied, watching the rhythmic swishes of the oversized brushes. "Truly something, eh?"
"Sure is," Granitore mused. A prolonged silence then settled between them, the only accompaniment to their thoughts being the distant impacts of hammers and the mechanical symphony of the Brush-o-matic's interlocking components working in tandem. As Tremmarc let his mind idly wander, however, he soon took notice of Granitore's tentative expression, his lone eye clouded with thought. Even though he was aware of his employee's ruminative nature, he still knew when something was off with any of his employees, down to the slightest discrepancies in appearance.
"You alright?" he asked, snapping the other Cragster out of his trance. "You look troubled." Granitore simply shook it off, however. "Yeah, I'm good. Just…thinking, that's all."
"About what?"
Granitore hesitated for a moment. He knew he could always confide in his superior when it came to virtually anything, yet it was still challenging for him to fully articulate – what Augrit had suggested earlier remained in the darkest reaches of his mind, burrowing into his memory.
"Well…" he began. "Just something Augrit said earlier, that's all."
Tremmarc's expectant look signaled him to continue. "He proposed an…interesting question while we were walking earlier. Something about wanting more from the world, from life itself. Naturally, I was obliged to answer, but what he asked still stuck with me." He paused again, unused to talking so much.
"So what you say?"
"I was about to bring up something, but…to be honest, I don't know if it's really true," Granitore stated, his expression more pensive than before. "It almost felt like I-"
KRAAA-BOOOM!
A massive tremor suddenly interrupted the Cragster, reverberating throughout the ground beneath and nearly toppling the two. All around, Granitore could hear the chorus of panic and confusion rising throughout the mining site. Before either he or Tremmarc could react further, Augrit came rushing up to them, gasping for breath.
"Augrit! What going on?" Tremmarc demanded.
"It's a disaster, sir! There's been a huge cave-in at level four and there's still a bunch of Mixels trapped down there!" the gold-plated Mixel frantically said, stumbling over his words in his panicked state. "We gots to get them outta there ASAP before the entire mine comes crashing down!"
Granitore was just as startled as the others, but deep down he had already decided on his course of action from the moment he felt the initial quake. It was yet another stepping stone on the path he had devoted himself to for the rest of his life. There was no other option.
"I'm heading down there," Augrit stated. "I'm pretty familiar with the deeper levels anyway."
"If you're going, I'm going too," Granitore said. "If that cave-in is as intense as I think, you're gonna need all the help you can get." Augrit said nothing, but his face clearly expressed how grateful he was.
"Well, get going, both of you!" Tremmarc implored, markedly demonstrating his authority. "Make sure not one Mixel left down there!"
The two quickly nodded before taking off for the mine's entrance, racing as fast as they could – or at least, as fast as your average Cragster could.
The brittle, rocky earth beneath their feet trembled and thundered, growing more violent as they approached the gaping quarry. Hopping into a minecart each, it wasn't long before they were speeding down into the depths, descending into a seemingly endless abyss beneath the surface. Flashes of fleeting torchlight were the only source of illumination, serving as markers for each distinct level. Even those vanished entirely after a while, but it wasn't as if they were necessary – their natural vision, perfectly suited to nigh-impenetrable darkness, was more than enough.
Eventually, the minecarts came to an abrupt halt, their paths obstructed by a solid wall of boulders and bedrock. Exiting the carts, both Cragsters knew that at this point there was only one way inside, one way innately natural to all of their tribe. Steeling their nerves, both charged toward the barrier with full force, focusing every ounce of willpower they had.
Utilizing his armored hands, Augrit spun his body into a streamlined formation, transforming into a living gold-tipped drill that cleaved away the stone in mere seconds. Meanwhile, Granitore used his brute strength to its fullest, pulverizing rocks into dust with each swing of his giant fists. Together, both Mixels bulldozed through the barricade like a pair of red-hot knives slicing through butter.
With their combined power, it wasn't long until they burst through the wall, landing in a small clearing with chunks of rubble haphazardly strewn about. Several Cragsters were huddled in corners, trying to stay as far away from the wreckage as possible. Their faces lit up instantly upon seeing the duo blasting through the cave's ceiling.
Not wanting to waste his breath, Granitore gestured toward the freshly made hole, prompting the others to escape.
"There more workers in there!" exclaimed one Cragster, pointing to the eastern wall. "They totally trapped as well!" Granitore looked to Augrit for help, hesitant, but the latter's mind was already on its own track. "You take care of these guys, I've gots the other side covered!" he said, racing toward the right side. With the same speed and precision demonstrated just seconds prior, Augrit slammed into the rock face, drilling clean through it in mere moments.
Unfortunately, his reckless digging had unintended consequences. The impact triggered a second onslaught of tremors, causing the walls around Granitore and the others to crumble further. Rock and gravel came crashing down as the foundations began to give way, startling the workers. Adrenaline coursed through Granitore's veins as the gears in his mind began to spin.
"Get to the exit! Now!" he bellowed. The sheer volume and authority of his voice alone was enough to spark the Cragsters into motion, one rapidly following another as they clambered through the giant opening above. The last among them was just barely too short, and struggled to pull himself over, prompting Granitore to give him one final push over the edge. Grateful, the Cragster scurried off, joining the rest of their crew.
There was still the issue of the cavern, however.
The rumbling was deafening, and the ground convulsed and shuddered as cracks spread through the walls. As a torrent of fresh debris ensued, Granitore did his best to deter it, smashing every slab and boulder that threatened to crush him. As he gradually fought his way to the exit, he silently hoped that Augrit had succeeded. The fate of the entire quarry depended on both their efforts.
The bulky Cragster had nearly battled his way out, seconds away from freedom, when a huge mass landed on him from above like a hammer brought down upon a nail, threatening to crack his rocky body like an eggshell. Twisting his head upward, his eye widened in utter terror.
A massive boulder, easily the size of a small car, was balancing precariously on his back, only barely being held up by his own weight. Even with his impressive bulk, his muscles screamed with pain as they struggled to keep the boulder upright.
He could barely move. He could barely stand. He could barely hear his own breathing over the sound of the cave falling apart. Deep down, he accepted this as his fate. If this was how his story was to end, he was at least relieved it ended with a chapter portraying his heroism and selflessness.
"GRANITORE!"
The Cragster turned his head as far as he could to his left, seeing Augrit burst out of the ruptured wall, gray/black Cubit in hand. "GRAB ON!" he shouted, racing toward his friend. Exerting whatever strength he had left, Granitore reached out and grabbed the Cubit, instantly activating its illusion.
The ore transformed into a huge jackhammer, which began to drill furiously, crushing both Mixels underneath. Moments later, the jackhammer burst apart, revealing a hulking, armored Mix.
Gripping the boulder firmly with gold-plated claws, the Mix lifted it up before launching it to the other side of the cave, the rock shattering on impact. They hadn't a moment to breathe, however, before two similarly sized chunks of rubble came tumbling down. Steadying themselves, the Mix stood its ground as it smashed those apart as well, turning them to pebbles and dust in seconds.
"Well, that's that settled," they muttered, breathing a sigh of relief. As they turned to leave, they noticed something from the corner of their eye. Something almost like a distinct glint or shine in the sparse light.
Cautiously, the Granitore & Augrit Mix approached the source of the strange sheen. As they got closer, they soon realized the object was firmly lodged in the rock face, almost at risk of being crushed on all sides.
Upon closer inspection, the object bore a gray identical to the stone surrounding it, but its texture was entirely different: none of the crevices and ridges of sedimentary rock were present here, rather, it was impeccably smooth and pristine. It was almost as if it were part of a massive Cubit. A result of a particularly large vein, perhaps?
In spite of their current situation, their curiosity prompted them to reach out and latch onto it. With a grip as firm as basalt, the Mix pulled on the ore, their fingers digging into its surface. Their attempts to dislodge it only confirmed their initial observation – the ore was wedged deep within the wall, refusing to budge. Nevertheless, the Mix persevered, channeling all of its combined strength into its arms.
The more they tugged on the ore, the more the Granitore & Augrit Mix's muscles strained, nearing their limits. Despite their efforts, this ore, whatever it truly was, was frustratingly stubborn, adamantly remaining within the nook that housed it. The Mix pulled harder, harder still, so hard that they began to feel their form destabilizing.
Out of the blue, the ore broke free, sending it and the Mix sprawling back. Once they regained their balance, the Granitore & Augrit Mix looked down at what they had unearthed – and what they saw made their eyes widen.
Within their oversized palm was not a giant Cubit, but a shard – one that glistened in the scarce light of the cavern, with not even so much as a scratch. The constituents of the Mix had smashed their way through mountains' worth of Cubit ore during their careers, and had seen dozens of varieties, in all shapes and sizes – but this was completely alien to them. How could a single shard be hidden so deep underground, much less in such perfect condition?
The Cubit shard suddenly glowed, and a choir of ethereal voices soon followed, dancing throughout the Mix's collective mind. They spoke in little more than whispers, but their words had all the impact of a sledgehammer. They murmured about ancient prophecies, a treasure being reawakened, a great destiny that awaited a new successor. The Mix was left utterly confused, washed away in a mental sea of sound. Whenever they tried to make sense of one thing, another cropped up, even more cryptic than the last.
Just as quickly as they came, however, the voices faded, and the shard's light with them, leaving the Mix alone in silence. Without another word, the Mix headed back toward the exit, shard tightly gripped in their fist, and clambered up through the tunnel until they reached the minecart track. Upon resurfacing, the Mix promptly split, and both Cragsters silently began the trek upward once more, pushing the carts along the creaky, aged tracks.
After several moments, Augrit finally broke the silence. "So…are we just not gonna talk about any of that?"
"You mean the cave-in?" Granitore asked, not turning toward his colleague.
"I meant after that. With that weird shard and all," Augrit replied. "What was that? What did any of that even mean?"
Granitore paused for a brief moment to process what had happened. While Mixed, he had felt everything Augrit did, and vice versa, meaning the voices that ostensibly came from the shard resonated just as strongly in his mind. And yet…something felt different when he had heard them, almost as if they were speaking to him specifically.
"I don't know," he eventually replied, turning to face Augrit. "But I'm still thinking about what they said, how they said it. It felt like…they were talking directly to me, through the Mix." He looked down at the Cubit shard, which was currently deposited in his cart – his hands were preoccupied at the moment. "Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me, but I felt something when we touched that shard. Something I've never felt before, and something I can't describe. It's bizarre."
Augrit simply shrugged. "Whatever it was, I know one thing for sure: that thing is weird," he said, gesturing to the shard. "We might wanna ask the boss about it, just to be safe." Granitore only nodded. They silently continued their trek upward, until they finally reached the entrance, stepping out into the quarry site yet again. The darkness of night welcomed them as they ascended, the Mixel Moon's mellow light contrasting the shadowy sky.
The site was almost empty; most had already headed home for the night, save for those who were staying to clean up or share their experiences with the recent cave-in. Setting aside their minecarts, the two Cragsters made their way back to the Brush-o-matic station, where Tremmarc was patiently waiting.
"There you two be!" he said, walking over to greet them. "Glad you get everyone out in one piece, but what take you two so long?"
"Nearly got crushed by a rock or two, no biggie," Granitore stated matter-of-factly. "Yeah, had to Mix to solve that little bump in the road," Augrit added. "Also we found something while down there. Something…strange."
Tremmarc raised an eyebrow. "What you mean, 'strange'?"
Granitore pulled out the Cubit shard, showing it to Tremmarc. "Ever seen something like this before, boss?" he asked.
Tremmarc stared at the shard intently, studying its size, its color, its flawlessly carved shape. The more he stared, the more his brow furrowed in confusion. "No…" he muttered after several moments. "No, me never see something like this. It too big to be normal Cubit…but it look special." He looked up at Granitore. "You said you found this in quarry?"
"Both of us did, yeah," the burly Cragster replied.
"This seem strange, very rare indeed," Tremmarc continued. "You should hold onto it for now, until you figure out what it be."
"Right," Granitore replied.
Augrit stretched his arms, yawning. "Welp, I'm heading out. Between today's work and the whole cave-in business, I'm totally beat," he said, before heading off toward the exit. "See you two tomorrow!" Both Cragsters waved him goodbye as he departed. As Granitore prepared to leave, Tremmarc recalled their earlier conversation.
"Wait, Granitore," he said, prompting the other Mixel to turn toward him. "I meant to ask you, what exactly you say when Augrit asked you that question?"
Granitore paused to ponder for a moment, his eye narrowed in concentration. His mind had been so preoccupied with the cave-in incident and the discovery of the shard that he had nearly forgotten their earlier conversation. Thankfully, it didn't take long for him to fully recall all the details – having a powerful memory came in handy sometimes.
Granitore sucked in a breath as he prepared his answer. "I never said it outright, but…" he began, hesitating. He had never admitted this to anyone, much less his own boss, but now was as good a time as any, he supposed. "What I want most is to be someone who promotes peace and harmony throughout the whole world – a guardian of Mixelkind's true values, if you will." He stared up at the star-studded abyss of the night sky above as he spoke. "I know I already have that reputation around here, but I feel that if I gots the chance to go even further beyond, and gained enough influence, I could truly make a difference to all kinds of Mixels out there, y'know?" He turned back to Tremmarc, a small smile gracing his face. "That's my ultimate goal. That's what I want most."
Tremmarc was left speechless. In all the time he had known Granitore, from the moment he hired him, had he heard him speak for so long, nor with such conviction. He could only stare at the golem-like Cragster in awe as he processed all he heard.
"That…that very noble, Granitore," he eventually said. "Me only hope you get chance to accomplish that, because me know you absolutely can." Granitore beamed in response, his smile growing massively.
"Anyway, you should go home. It very late, you need rest after today," the shelled Cragster continued. Granitore nodded before ambling away toward the front gates. "By the way, if you learn anything about shard, let me know!" Tremmarc called as he walked away.
"I will," came his last reply of the night.
As Granitore walked along the streets of the Cragster District, lit only by glowbulbs and the natural moonlight, he looked down at the Cubit shard lying in his hand, its surface gently warm to the touch as it faintly glowed. It was a powerful reminder of what had occurred thus far. In the span of a single day – no, a single evening – he had experienced so much, and now had so much to think about: his goals for the future, his role as mediator, rescuing others from disaster, and the mystery surrounding the enigmatic chunk of ore that he now held. Any other Mixel in that quarry, he surmised, would've been overwhelmed in mere seconds.
Yet not him. He was sturdy and resilient, like the rock that comprised his homeland, never once breaking under pressure. Even so, however, he felt uneasiness stirring within his soul. Could he really live up to his reputation and his dreams, especially now that this shard had been tossed into the mix? He didn't know, and he suspected he likely wouldn't know for a while.
Granitore could only sigh softly. Only time would tell what his new discovery meant, but perhaps that's what fate intended. Maybe the key to uncovering his true destiny was to be patient until the answers revealed themselves. For now, as he made the trek home, all he could do was wait and see.