The Great Wilderness has always been a place where rumors and superstitions come alive. Somewhere, there’s a rumor of a giant snake that devours people. Elsewhere, it’s said that a pit that swallows cities is being formed.
Occasionally, there’s even a rumor of a massive island floating in the blue sky.
Like a mirage you might easily encounter after walking through the wilderness for a long time. Formless rumors swirl around this Great Wilderness.
However, the signal fires of Mosat City, the revival of three dynasties, the retreat of Kirzat, the advance of the Eastern Kingdom Alliance, the participation of the Crusader Knights….
About three months after that. Now, this wasteland is buzzing with rumors more intense than ever, and more concrete than any other time.
-I have returned.
There’s a man who says that. Late at night, in the deep dawn, the moment everyone is asleep. From the powerful figures of the oasis cities to the ears of the scoundrels in the drug dens, a low whispering voice.
-I have returned.
Some say the protagonist of this rumor is the Emperor’s Grand Chancellor. Others say it’s the Sultan’s Caliph. There’s even talk that it might be an ancient evil spirit from the time of Ashit, lingering in the Great Wilderness for ages.
Of course, from the perspective of the Pharaohs of the Empire of Ashit who have risen from their tombs, such rumors are rather amusing. But as rumors overlap and twist, all the residents living near the borders and frontlines of the Great Wilderness no longer doubt the reality of this rumor.
Because it’s certain that someone is really out there.
An old man carrying two greatswords on his back and holding a worn ebony staff is crossing the wilderness. His purple robe, withered by the wind, flutters, and under the night sky painted with brilliant starlight, a green moon glimmers.
-Tap.
His bony fingers tapped the staff. Humming softly, the old man let out a low, raspy hum. Beside him, a muscular beastman bowed his head quietly.
“Elder. We’ve already come too far. We can’t afford to delay any longer here.”
“Shh, shh—. Quiet.”
The old man drove his staff deep into the sand. With eyes glowing faintly with madness, he looked up at the sky.
Astrology was one of the basic disciplines he had mastered. Reading the stars and their flow was as natural to him now as breathing.
He gazed at the stars, reading the patterns beyond the heavens. The flow of magical energy between the constellations seemed almost tangible.
“Let them think we’re weak.”
“Elder? But retreating like this is too draining. We’re going the wrong way! The Alliance’s territory lies further south. The warriors’ discontent is reaching the skies, and morale is at its lowest!”
The warrior couldn’t bring himself to say, ‘The tribal warriors want to cut off your head.’ None who had tried had succeeded, and this old man was the mage who had saved his tribe.
The old man chuckled, understanding the deep implications in his words.
“Even if I wielded a sword, could I handle all of them, huh?”
“What lies ahead if we keep going west?”
“Death.”
The old man cackled. The wasteland might seem like a vast plain with no boundaries in any direction, but that wasn’t the case. Deep valleys, sheer cliffs, and even sudden jungles and mountain ranges made it a place of bizarre landscapes.
The reason this place became a wasteland was due to ancient magic. It wasn’t a natural desertification.
The old man knew that better than anyone.
-Thud.
The staff was pulled out of the dry ground.
“There’s death, and then there’s death’s death.”
-Whoosh.
Green flames spread from the tip of the old man’s staff. The warrior flinched. Within the emerald flames, the shapes of screaming skeletons and wraiths swirled. The old man’s face, illuminated by the eerie light, twisted grotesquely.
“Let them chase us arrogantly, and we’ll weed out the useless ones among your warriors and throw them as bait.”
“Elder…”
Discontent flickered in the warrior’s eyes. Even if this Grand Magician had saved his tribe, he had no intention of becoming his puppet.
“It will take three days. Until your tribe’s escape is effective. After that, only the weaklings who can’t fight will remain. Like dogs with their tails between their legs.”
The old man laughed for a while, then added.
“And let those chasing us know. That we’ve grown weak. That we can’t run anymore.”
[Annoying beasts…]
Prince Neferka clicked his skull in frustration. Riding in a floating golden palanquin. They had been chasing them for dozens of days. Though it was just a small tribe, they were on a mission to eliminate dissenters under the Pharaoh’s sacred command.
His legion had wiped out every beastman tribe that got in their way. These were mere savage beastmen who wouldn’t have dared to oppose the Pharaoh’s army in the Empire’s glorious days.
The elite soldiers of the great Tutankhamun Gartep, even as their muscles withered and their bones crumbled, overwhelmed them one by one. Thus, Neferka considered this chase more of a hunt than a battle.
Hunting is a noble’s pastime. Neferka extended his golden cup. Soon, his servant poured rotten wine into it. As was his habit in life, he elegantly swirled the cup, pretending to smell it, then took a sip.
-Slurp…
The wine flowed down his empty jawbone, soaking his ribs and dripping onto the palanquin. The servants, with practiced movements, took out old linen to wipe away the spilled wine.
[Your Highness. If we continue this advance, we’ll reach the Sario Gorge. It’s terrain favorable for ambushes, so we should send scouts…]
