Ch. 5
Chapter 5: [The Wasteland and the Adventurers’ Guild]
The wind howled, sweeping over the desolate surface, stirring clusters of spiky, blackened plants.
The dim, veiled sunlight shone upon the dark-brown earth.
On the cracked ground lay only withered black plants, stagnant water, barren soil, grayish-white boulders, and the scattered bones of unknown creatures.
A massive underground ravine stretched between two pale boulders, like a scar carved across the wasteland.
Within the ravine, however, was a vibrant and complex subterranean ecosystem. Strange underground flora thrived together—fungal trees, pig-tail grass, green ferns, bubble trees, blood thorns, and organ-pipe mushrooms mingled wildly.
Mosses and lichens climbed up the ravine walls, lush and vivid, forming a sharp contrast to the bleak surface above.
Several potato-like root-creatures scurried through the shrubs, using root-shaped claws to hold half-dried blood-thorn branches like rakes.
They dug through leaves, searching for bits of rot and fallen debris.
At the edge of the chasm, two heavily armored figures struggled to climb.
“I’ve never gone rock climbing in my previous life… Guess I’m finally making up for it now…” Samael muttered, thrusting his bronze gauntlet deep into the rock wall as he heaved his heavy body upward with effort.
Such was the inconvenience of armor—weighty, restrictive, and clumsy. Movement was inevitably awkward.
“Almost there…” Thaleia, with her hammer-spear strapped to her back, gripped the rocky edge with her blackened gauntlet.
With a powerful kick, she vaulted herself up and collapsed onto the ground at the edge of the ravine. Her armor clanged loudly as she landed.
“Godfather… pull me up…” A bronze armored hand reached out from below.
“Why are you calling me godfather?! Just call me Thaleia!” She panted as she grasped his hand and hauled Samael up with a loud clang-clang.
“Whoa… why’s the surface environment so harsh?” Samael propped himself up and looked around. “The underground ecosystem was so much better.”
“This place… this is the Wasteland. Also known as the Demon Domain.” Thaleia sat down, removed her horned helmet, and tossed it aside. Her delicate face and short, steel-gray ponytail were revealed.
“The Demon Domain is formed where a large amount of spiritual energy seeps into the soil and ecosystem. This energy transforms lifeforms, circulates through the food chain, and accumulates in the bodies of apex predators.”
“Three-quarters of the Yaton Continent is covered by these desolate and dangerous Demon Domains—corrupted lands that can’t be cultivated or grazed, waterless demonic deserts, swamps full of poison miasma, stormy black seas with jagged reefs, and nightmare forests sealed by rampant demonic flora.”
“Only about one-quarter of the land has thin enough spiritual energy to support humans, elves, and dwarves. But since Yaton is vast, that quarter is still enough for their nations—the human kingdoms, elven city-states, and dwarven fortresses all lie within those habitable zones.”
“As for the underground ecosystem you praised—well, it’s only good for demons and demonized creatures.” Thaleia gazed down into the ravine they had just climbed from.
“Humans call spiritual energy ‘demonic essence,’ because they have low natural adaptability to it. To use it, they must rely on alchemical modifications. An unmodified human cannot survive long in an area rich in spiritual energy.”
“But demons, with their innate adaptability, find such energy beneficial. We can live here naturally. To us, this land is a golden paradise.”
“Demons are immune to most miasmas, toxins, and curses of the Wasteland. We know the ecosystem well and are not attacked by demonized creatures. Because we are part of the Demon Domain’s ecosystem—the rightful lords of the Dungeons. That’s why we encountered no enemies while climbing out: the creatures here recognize us as apex predators and avoid us.”
“But for outsiders, for adventurers who dare set foot underground, danger lurks everywhere. Many plants harmless to demons are lethal to humans—touching them can cause poisoning, allergies, parasitism, or spiritual curses.” She chuckled softly and raised her hand, controlling a nearby root-creature.
The creature waddled over, carrying a string of pale-purple pods, and handed them to Thaleia.
“These sweet pods contain toxic spiritual essence. A normal human who eats one raw will die within three minutes—body swelling, blood turning purple, bursting open to become fertilizer for the plant. Demonized flora love growing in corpses. Humans sometimes harvest them for potion-making.” She plucked one pod and casually popped it into her mouth. “But for demons, it’s just a sweet, crunchy snack. We can replenish spiritual energy by eating demonized beings—and grow stronger by hunting them.”
“Both underground and on the surface, demonized creatures abound. They won’t attack us, but humans? That’s another story. Even root-creatures and slimes will attack them, not to mention dragon-gryphons, beak-hounds, devourer beasts, and carrion feeders.”
“You might think root-creatures are weak. But in groups—when not enslaved by demons—they form primitive tribal societies. They craft tools, set traps, and use tactics. For humans, elves, and dwarves, they are a terrible plague. They reproduce easily and thrive in any climate. The elves even call them ‘the vanguard of demonic essence spread.’” Thaleia gently patted the creature beside her.
“Also, this region contains the tunnels of the Earth-Devouring Worms. Trespassers may awaken them—and once awakened, anything not demonic will be devoured.”
Thaleia looked toward the horizon.
“Still, though uninhabitable, demonized creatures make excellent materials. They’re valuable for alchemy, potioncraft, magitech, and spell catalysts. So every race, every nation, sends adventurers and mercenaries to gather them.”
“To provide logistics and organization, adventurers formed a loose alliance under powerful leaders—the Adventurers’ Guild.”
“The Guild builds small city-states, long-term settlements, camps, and outposts in the safer parts of the Wasteland. They have full supply and trade networks, as well as services—medical care, gear, logistics, and loot trading.”
“I’m a half-demon. This land is my homeland. So when I searched for ruins here, I didn’t rely on the Guild’s supplies.” Thaleia drew a map on the dirt with a stone. “But I remember there’s a medium-sized Guild outpost nearby.”
“What do we do next? Build our Dungeon here?” Samael asked.
“No. The other demons are still hunting me.” She sighed. “And this area already has Demon Dungeons. Each Demon Lord is fiercely territorial—if two settle too close, war breaks out. My father’s Dungeon was destroyed by demons and the Guild together. I’m wanted by both sides. If this land’s Demon Lord finds me, we’ll be hunted again. We can’t trust anyone.”
“You’re wanted… yet you’re walking around in Sauron-level armor with a giant evil weapon.” Samael pointed at her. “Isn’t that a bit conspicuous?”
“Well… my wanted poster looks like this.” Thaleia pulled a folded parchment from her belt.
“Let me see…” Samael leaned over.
On the parchment was a delicate portrait of a long-haired girl in a white princess dress, sitting gracefully with a harp-like instrument in her arms, her sapphire pendant glimmering on her pale neck. Her gray hair cascaded like a waterfall. She smiled gently—radiant and breathtaking.
Below, in Gothic letters, was printed: “Princess of the Demonkind, Londoran.”
The bounty: 30,000,000 Edric Gold Coins.
“…They drew you… really beautifully… How many zeroes is that again?” Samael didn’t know whether to stare at the number or the girl.
He turned to look at Thaleia—short steel-gray hair, tired eyes ringed with black circles, her expression screaming “The world can burn for all I care.”
“You’ve disguised yourself perfectly,” Samael said sincerely. “From princess… to warlord. No one will ever recognize you.”
“Ahem… Anyway, I cut my hair short when I fled, put on my father’s armor, and took one of his not-so-light weapons. The Demon Lords may sense me through dominator energy, but adventurers won’t recognize me.” She coughed and tried to take back the parchment.
“Wait, let me look a bit longer…” Samael compared the beautiful girl on the poster to the armored Thaleia before him. “You’re swinging that solid metal hammer-spear like it’s nothing—what are you, the Monkey King? Planning to pull up telephone poles next?”
“Half-demons are indeed stronger than humans—Monkey King? Is he a demon?” Thaleia tucked away the parchment.
“He’s a very powerful monkey… Never mind. I’ll tell you later. For now, let’s talk strategy.” Samael sighed, glancing wistfully at where the beautiful portrait had disappeared.
“Why are you staring at me?” Thaleia rolled her eyes.
“No reason… I’m just thinking aloud. So—our enemies are the demons and the Guild, both after us, right?”
“Stop calling me lord… whatever, fine.” Thaleia sighed. “Yes. The demons and the Guild are both hunting me. The demons, though, are more dangerous. Their power in the Wasteland is far greater.”
“You said we can’t stay here long or they’ll detect us through that dominator energy thing?”
“Exactly. A Demon Lord who builds a Dungeon can extend their spiritual will throughout their domain. Any outsider is easily detected. That’s one of the reasons Dungeons matter.”
“So the demons are much more dangerous than the Guild,” Samael mused.
“Indeed,” Thaleia replied. “Demons are warlike, power-hungry, and cruel. They fight among themselves and torment their captives. If we’re caught, it’s better to die.”
“That’s terrifying…” Samael frowned. “So, we need to escape to somewhere remote, find land without demons, and build our Dungeon there, right?”
“Yes. But that’s difficult.” Thaleia grimaced. “Most of the Wasteland is occupied by demons—unless we head near the human kingdoms…”
“This is the continent.” She sketched a vast outline in the dirt. “Almost all of it is demonized wasteland.”
“These are the four human kingdoms, five dwarven fortresses, and four elven realms.” She placed black twigs, stones, and leaves to mark them in a rough circle.
“And all these dots around are Demon Dungeons…” She pressed her armored fingertip into the outer ring of wasteland, leaving star-like marks. “Even the western islands have three Demon Lords. Those three are neutral—they don’t meddle in mainland affairs. Failing demons sometimes flee to them, or become pirates.”
“Wait—hold on, Your Majesty, let’s not talk about what happens after our business fails—we haven’t even started yet!” Samael waved. “So why’s the middle of the continent empty? No humans, no elves, no demons—what’s there?”
“Just ordinary corrupted wasteland—vast plains mixed with swamps and hills. It’s infested with demonized creatures and Earth-Devouring Worms. The land’s infertile, worthless to humans, better suited for adventurers gathering resources. And it also serves as a political buffer zone between nations.”
“Long ago, it was habitable. But every race fought for it—before the Adventurers’ Guild mediated peace between humans, elves, and dwarves. This place was once the greatest battlefield on the continent.”
“The slaughter was immense. Corpses piled high, disease spread, scavengers couldn’t clean it all. The dead released their spiritual energy into the soil, corrupting it until the land itself became demonic. Undead armies arose—constructs born of death.”
“The undead don’t belong to the demonic ecosystem. Without spiritual control, they attack everything, demons included. And though demons can control them, it drains energy. Controlling more than a thousand undead becomes nearly impossible.”
“And one more reason no Demon Lords live there—can’t you tell? That region was once the Guild’s core territory. Even now, surrounded by their forces, no sane Demon Lord would risk crossing the Guild’s lands to build a Dungeon in the continent’s center…”
Thaleia looked at Samael.
Samael looked back.
“You get my idea, right?” Samael asked.
“Wait… you mean…?”
“Exactly! We’re going behind enemy lines! The demons and the Guild both hunt us, but the Guild is the lesser threat. If we build our Dungeon there, we only need to face one enemy—and the demons can’t easily reach us.”
“The Guild’s surrounding nations will even serve as a shield against demonic forces.” He grinned. “Where I’m from, we say—the most dangerous place is the safest. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Something like that. Anyway—it’s a good plan.”
“…It’s insane,” Thaleia murmured, then smiled faintly. “But I must admit—it’s a good kind of insane.”
“Alright then! Goal set—build our Dungeon in the continent’s center!” Samael grabbed a sweet pod and stuck it in the middle of the map. “So, where are we now?”
“Roughly here.” Thaleia placed a purple pod on the northwest outer edge of the map—between two twigs marking the border between the Wasteland and two human kingdoms. “The northern Edric Empire and western Floren Kingdom. To reach the center, we’ll have to cross a third of Edric territory.”
“Good! Route set! So… do we just walk there?” Samael drew a short line through the dirt, connecting their location to the center.
“Impossible. There are guarded checkpoints at the borders. Lone travelers are always questioned.” Thaleia shook her head. “But we could blend into a mercenary band, adventurer squad, or merchant caravan. With their cover, we’ll pass without issue.”
“Which is easiest?” Samael asked.
“Adventurers,” Thaleia replied. “Mercenaries mostly work along borders and rarely go inland. Merchants are too cautious to hire strangers. But adventurers? You can just register a fake name at a Guild office.”
“They’re that casual?” Samael blinked. “I thought they’d be like serious explorers—like White Whistle Lyza from Made in Abyss, or Laios from Delicious in Dungeon.”
“Most adventurers are just trying to survive—gambling their lives for a bit of coin. Professionals exist, but they’re far away in the deep Wasteland or Demon Dungeons. You won’t find them here.”
“Oh, I get it—like in extraction games. Some are knife-runners, others rich gunner types!” Samael nodded.
“Alright then—step by step,” he said, standing up and brushing dust off his armor.
“Step one: go to the nearest Guild outpost, avoid demon territories, and register as adventurers with fake names.
Step two: join a team returning to the Edric Empire and travel with them.
Step three: cross the Empire and build our Dungeon in the continent’s center!”
He stretched his arms and struck a Praise the Sun pose from Dark Souls.
Thaleia couldn’t help but laugh. To her, he truly was like the sun—bright, warm, and full of life, appearing in her darkest hour.
However—
“We’ll need to cover your armor seams somehow. And come up with a reason you can’t remove your helmet,” she said, studying his armor. “Adventurers aren’t stupid. If they see that your armor’s hollow inside, they’ll know you’re a cursed knight.”