Sand Mage of the Burnt Desert

Gagagagak!

Kwoooorrr!

The sound of bones being gnawed, mixed with the wretched cries of a beast being eaten alive, filled the air like background music.

"Eat plenty. My children!"

A man in a robe crouched in front of a campfire, muttering to himself.

A short distance away, a massive beast lay sprawled on the ground.

The beast panted raggedly, letting out the occasional scream. Its enormous body was covered, without a single gap, by countless red locusts.

The red locusts clung tightly to its flesh, tearing chunks out as they devoured it.

Every time they bit into its body, the beast shuddered violently. Now it lacked even the strength to scream, its huge eyes only blinking weakly.

The beast was being eaten alive by the swarm of red locusts.

Had it been an ordinary animal, or a low-grade monster, it would have died the instant the locusts swarmed.

But unfortunately, the beast before him was C-rank. Its vitality was immense. That meant its life was not so easily snuffed out—and so it was forced to endure the agony of being consumed alive.

The robed man smiled, seemingly delighted by the beast's cries.

At that moment, one of the red locusts that had been feasting diligently brought a chunk of meat in its mandibles and carried it over to the man.

Accepting the flesh, the man spoke.

"You brought this for me to eat too?"

—Kiii!

"Yes, you're a good one. I'll eat well, so go back and feed yourself."

—Kikikiki!

At the man's praise, the locust twitched its antennae happily and returned to the dying beast.

The man tossed the flesh into the campfire.

Crackle! Sizzle!

The meat began to roast appetizingly over the flames.

Meanwhile, the beast's cries abruptly ceased.

At last, its breath had ended.

The beast was dead, but a mountain of flesh still remained.

The locusts tore into it greedily.

The man, too, tore off a roasted piece and chewed as he murmured,

"Good. Tasty."

Of course, monster flesh was never meant to taste good.

It was tough, and worse, saturated with malignant energy. Eaten raw, it would kill even a healthy human instantly.

The monster meat distributed in Neo Seoul or in the slums was always carefully processed to remove those dangerous elements.

But the man paid it no mind, devouring it as if it were the finest delicacy.

The foul energy within the meat could not harm him in the least.

On his face as he chewed was an expression of sheer madness.

When he finished eating, he suddenly pulled something from within his robe.

It was a black object, shaped like a goat's horn.

Gazing at it, he muttered,

"So this is the Black Queen's Horn?"

It looked worthless at a glance, yet in El Harun it had been guarded with utmost care.

Its storage site had been layered with countless wards and traps.

To obtain it, the man had paid a heavy price.

He had lost everything he possessed in El Harun—but he felt no regret.

For he had a reason he must obtain this horn.

His name was Derod.

He was a resident of El Harun, the city of other races.

Originally, he had been a reclusive man.

He rarely interacted with outsiders, speaking instead with creatures like the red locusts.

His ability—to commune with insects—was despised in El Harun.

Better to speak with beasts like a druid, people said, than to consort with disgusting bugs.

Thus Derod had lived in seclusion, shut away in his dwelling, hardly showing himself.

Had that incident not occurred, he likely would have lived quietly like that forever.

Present, yet unseen—like a ghost.

Derod slipped the black horn back into his robe, murmuring,

"This horn will guide me to that dungeon."

Much of Kurayan had crossed into this world in dungeon form.

What had been discovered was far less than what remained hidden.

Somewhere, there must be a dungeon connected to this black horn.

"Until then, I must raise my children further."

The method of increasing the locusts was simple.

Feed them more.

Fortunately, this desert was overflowing with food.

Humans. Beasts. All of it was sustenance for the red locusts.

They had already devoured countless humans and monsters, but it was not enough.

"I need more prey. More humans…"

＊＊＊

Zeon pulled a tent out of subspace and set it up.

The one-man tent was something he'd picked up in Goblin Market.

Easy to fold and pitch, completely weatherproof—it was an item every Awakener venturing into the desert carried these days.

Zeon himself had little need of a tent. He could dig into the sand and fashion a bunker. But every now and then, he liked to sleep out under the open sky.

Having already confirmed there were no beasts nearby, he pitched the tent without hesitation.

With a place to sleep secured, it was time for a meal.

And for that, too, he had no worries—thanks to the lunchbox Old Man Kleksy had packed for him and stored in subspace.

Zeon took out three black chunks of stone and the lunchbox.

The stones were called firebombs—fuel developed in Neo Seoul.

Once lit, they burned for several hours, perfect as makeshift campfires.

He lit them, then opened the lunchbox lid. Steam rose warmly.

The food remained exactly as fresh as the moment it was made.

It let Zeon dine as leisurely as if he were out camping.

Halfway through the meal, Zeon lifted his head, gazing past the fire into the darkness.

Something was approaching.

Moments later, three figures emerged from the night.

Each wore a robe, hood drawn low to hide the face.

The one in front spoke.

"So it was indeed a fire. To think we would find a traveler bold enough to light a campfire and rest here in the middle of the desert. My name is Jupiro. If you don't mind, may we share in its warmth? As you see, we've yet to find a place to rest, and have been wandering the desert night."

"Go ahead."

"My thanks."

With Zeon's permission, the man who named himself Jupiro approached the fire with his companions.

At the fire, Jupiro pushed back his hood. Golden hair spilled down to his shoulders.

His features were so striking, one might have mistaken him for an elf—flawless pale skin, vivid blue eyes, sharp and handsome lines. He bore every trait of a beautiful man.

The others also revealed their faces.

"My name is Alonso. I won't forget your kindness."

"Criden. Thank you."

Both Alonso and Criden were well-built, with bronzed skin.

Their sharp eyes and tightly set mouths gave the impression of men of few words.

Zeon introduced himself simply.

"I am Zeon."

"Zeon? You're from Neo Seoul as well?"

"That's right."

"Then this burning stone is from Neo Seoul too?"

"Yes."

"Thanks to it, we don't have to shiver in the cold. We're grateful."

Jupiro sat by the fire, his companions following suit.

His gaze fell upon Zeon's lunchbox.

"You were eating? Forgive us for the intrusion."

"It's fine."

Zeon answered with a smile. Still, Jupiro and his men did not lower their guard.

Though they had approached first.

But Zeon did not blame them.

In the desert, trusting strangers met by chance was foolishness.

And truthfully, camping alone with a fire burning in the open was madness in itself.

The desert was rife with monsters, scavengers, and countless dangers. Lighting a fire was like calling them.

No Awakener, however strong, would dare it.

Yet Zeon did so calmly.

To Jupiro, Zeon could only be one of two things.

At least S-rank—or a lunatic courting death.

Either way, he was a burden to be around.

Yet Jupiro and his men had come because night had fallen and they still had no safe resting place.

They were strong men, confident in their ability. But even they dared not wander the desert in pitch blackness.

So they approached, though still tense.

It could even be a trap—scavengers often lured people this way.

Jupiro spoke.

"We'll sit quietly and move on. Please, continue your meal."

"Do as you like."

"Thanks."

When Zeon nodded, Jupiro glanced at his companions.

Criden pulled out some dried jerky from his robe and handed it to the others.

Chew. Chew.

The three ate in silence.

Zeon finished the rest of his lunchbox.

Only the sounds of eating echoed by the firelight.

He scraped the container clean, then stowed it back into subspace.

Jupiro's group also finished, then drew out a canteen. Rather than drink straight, they dropped some leaves inside.

Seeing Zeon's look, Jupiro explained,

"Nerum leaves. Excellent for purifying water, and the taste isn't bad either."

"There's such a tree?"

"Nearly extinct. This may be one of the last leaves."

"A shame. If it were plentiful, people's lives might be a little better."

"Such is nature's way."

"You sound like an elf when you speak."

"That… I hear often."

"I can believe it."

"By the way, do you travel alone? To camp with a fire, so boldly?"

"I already confirmed there are no beasts nearby. It seemed safe enough."

"Is that so?"

Still, suspicion lingered in Jupiro's eyes.

Perhaps Zeon had comrades hidden nearby.

Zeon noticed, but took no offense. In his place, he'd think the same.

Carefully, Zeon asked,

"May I ask where the three of you are headed?"

"We are searching for someone."

"A person?"

"Yes. We're scattered, looking for him."

At that answer, Zeon frowned slightly.

'So they have more companions.'

He had thought so.

Three was too few to travel the desert.

Most moved in teams of five or more, the minimum for safety.

These three were far too few.

What caught Zeon's attention, however, was their attire.

Though cloaked, their gauntlets, weapons, and boots were visible.

'The same as that man.'

Their gear carried the same air as Uslann's, whom he'd crossed paths with at the mana stone mine.

Zeon suddenly spoke.

"Are you by any chance companions of Uslann?"

"Huh!"

"How do you know that?"

At once, all three gripped their weapons, eyes fixed on Zeon.

Depending on his answer, they would attack without hesitation.

Zeon raised both hands to show he meant no harm.

"I shared a meal with him at the mana stone mine. Your attire looked similar, so I asked."

"Proof?"

"He gave me this."

Zeon drew out the gold coin Uslann had given him. At the sight, the three relaxed slightly.

"So you really did meet Lord Uslann."

"Then you must indeed be one of his acquaintances."

"Yes. We are Captain Uslann's subordinates."

Jupiro took his hand off his sword hilt as he answered.