He was born in the desert, where strength was law. The northern Veil, which faced the ocean, was a relatively peaceful land. Under the rule of the Three Kings of the Desert, the nation of Shun Veil prospered. The trading city of Tisah, the “heart of the Veil”, became an economic center for the nations of the Eirsarian sea, which brought all variety of goods into the nation. Within the Veil, there was peace, prosperity, and opportunity.

But the farther south you go, the harsher life became.

The Shun Veil is only one of four nations that surround the Great Desert of Shebu, a massive expanse of sand that stretched on for thousands of miles. The edges of the desert prospered, but the center was barren and nigh-unlivable, lacking in water and shelter, yet teeming with desert monstrosities.

He was born close to the center, where the proud nomads protected their way of life. Strength was law. The weak can do nothing but sleep for all time, either scorched by the sun or devoured by the sands. That is, if the beasts and vultures don’t partake of their body first.

He was given the name “Kalaman”, which was the name of a citrus fruit native to the nation south of the Great Desert. Apparently his mother used to be a well-known adventurer in the south when she was young. He’s only ever heard of her through hearsay. Whether she was dead or simply kept on adventuring was anyone’s best guess.

But despite the fact that she was never in his life, she still had an impact on Kalaman greater than anyone else. He, like many of the desert nomads, valued strength above all else, so knowing that his mother was one who ventured into far lands to achieve great deeds sparked a flame inside him that burned him from the inside-out.

But the desert takes, and rarely ever gives.

The other nomad kids in his tribe had a nickname for him: “Kampus”. In his language, it meant “Coward”. The adults reprimanded those kids, but Kalaman knew that they thought the same.

Even he knew it. Kalaman was the weakest in his tribe; a coward who only knew how to run away.

When he was around fifteen or sixteen, he decided to flee the desert. He knew his mother was somewhere down south, but he decided to head in the opposite direction. He went as far north as he could, having to contend with starvation, dehydration, predators, heat, and sandstorms as he did.

The desert was vast, more than he could have ever imagined. If felt like he was going on this journey for his entire life. Many times, he almost died. The only reason he was still alive was because he knew how to run and hide from predators.

Eventually, he reached the Shun Veil, and from there journeyed east, where he reached the kingdom of Eirsia, a primarily elven nation that had many human inhabitants. Much unlike the Great Desert, it was a land of forests. Cold, humid, and nowhere near as unforgiving. It was here that Kalaman developed his false sense of power. A delusion he chased feverishly.

“Surely, I won’t be called a coward here anymore.”

He felt reborn. He would no longer be Kalaman the Coward.

†

Kalaman placed the bag of severed giant lizard tails onto the counter, making a wet “shlop” noise as it did. The receptionist took the bag and after confirming the contents, gave him a pouch of coins with a “thank you”. As he left the guild building, he looked inside the pouch.

“Six silver pieces,” he sighed. “I guess this would be enough to cover my tavern room for tonight, as well as food...”

He’d been working as an adventurer under the guild for about a month now. Because he was a new member, he was only allowed to take on lower ranked quests. They posed only a bit of danger, but to a desert nomad like him, they were nothing but menial chores.

Generally, life was better than it was when he was still in the desert. He had a secure and consistent way to get food, water, and shelter. He currently lived in a room above a tavern. The room itself wasn’t in pristine condition, but it was cheap.

This was definitely not the life he had hoped when coming here. But it couldn’t be helped. To take on the higher-level quests, you’d need to be in a party first. It was possible to do it alone, but only higher ranked adventurers were allowed. For him to reach a rank like that by hunting giant lizards every day would take years, most likely. Unfortunately for him, no one wanted him in their party, which meant he had no choice in the matter.

“...Damnit!”

In frustration, he kicked a nearby stone wall, then predictably dropped to the ground in pain. The passerby’s paid him no heed. Still, he rose. All that did nothing to abate his anger.

Stolen novel; please report.

“They’re all just jealous of me ‘cause I’m a nomad of the Great Desert! That’s why they won’t let me in! Damn them!”

Desert nomads rarely ever leave the desert, but the ones that do are often known for their strength. The Great Desert is one of the harshest environments in the world, so it was expected for one who dwelled there to be powerful.

“You alright there?”

A voice caressed his ear. He turned to see an elven girl leaning close to him, her eyes locking directly with his. With how suddenly she appeared and how close their faces were, Kalaman couldn’t help but jump back in surprise.

“Ah! Wha...? Who?”

The girl went “ah,” and nervously laughed, as if realizing she’d made a mistake. “Sorry, sorry! It’s a bad habit of mine! I often get told that I’m too ‘in-everyone’s-faces’ and all that. I saw you having a fight with this wall and lost, so I just thought that was kinda funny.”

This elf girl’s talkative, Kalaman thought. She speaks fast, too. Everything from her tone to her body language screamed “high energy”.

“Huh? What’s your problem, elf?” Kalaman said to her.

“Hey, I have a name, you know ... which I forgot to tell you, my bad. I’m Emerina, glad to meet you!”

She held out her hand. Still wary, Kalaman slowly took that hand and shook it.

“Kalaman.”

Emerina smiled. “Yep, you are him! I heard about you, actually.”

As soon as Kalaman heard that, he flinched and let go of her hand. “Oh really?”

She nodded. “They’re calling you the False Nomad because of what happened a couple of weeks ago, you know.”

“...Tch.”

“Oh? Did I pinch a nerve?”

One party had accepted him in the past. They were a small and relatively new adventuring party, and of course, they immediately hired Kalaman due to him being a nomad. It didn’t last long, however. During their first quest together—a simple search-and-rescue type mission—they had a chance encounter with an owlbear.

“False Nomad” became his nickname after he ran away from it in fear. Thankfully, none of his former party members were injured by it, but the rumors spread like wildfire, and soon, no party would let him into their team.

“So what? I don’t have time to listen to your insults, elf.”

Kalaman took a deep breath to calm himself down and simply walked away from Emerina.

“Like I said, I have a naaame! It’s Emerinaaa! I already told yoooou! E-me-ri-naaaa—!”

“Stop shouting! Why are you so damn loud?!”

“Oh, sorry. It’s probably because I’m following you.”

“Why are you yelling while following me?! Hell, why ARE you following me?!”

“Don’t yell so loud. Now look, everyone’s looking at us.”

Kalaman noticed that she was right. Everyone around them was now looking at them. It was to be expected, considering how loudly they were yelling. Emerina cheekily smiled at him, fully aware of what she was doing.

“You little...” Kalaman growled at her. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“Nothing much,” she replied. “I just wanted to see how compatible the two of us were.”

“...Huh?” He stared blankly at her, his thoughts in disarray. “What are you...”

She placed a finger on his lips to shush him. “You know, there’s rumor of another adventurer just like you; A cleric who doesn’t know any healing spells. That’s fine right? A lot of clerics can’t heal either, so they either branch out to do frontline work. Unfortunately, that cleric isn’t very strong, so she couldn’t wear any heavy armor or carry any heavy maces. Her attack spells are weak, and she’s lousy at aiming. Her support is ... okay at best, I believe, but nothing to write home about. In other words, she’s a bona-fide mediocre adventurer!”

“Uh ... okay?”

She looked at him disappointedly. “Don’t get it yet, Mr. Failed Nomad? I mean, I may not have a funny and degrading title like you, but I was sure we’d get along, considering how similarly useless we both are.”

Kalaman finally noticed the pendant that hung around her neck. It was a holy symbol bearing the sigil of some god. Most likely, it was a cleric’s arcane focus.

“...Okay, you’re that cleric then. Your point?”

“Like I said, compatibility. You, a nomad of the Great Desert who ran away from an owlbear. Me, a cleric who cannot heal, defend, or fight. We are both unwanted in this field it seems. But I don’t have any plans to give up anytime soon...” She smiled at him. Her eyes were a calming blue, yet he felt flames burn inside them. “...So, Kalaman, here’s the deal: Why don’t the two of us party up?”

“...Huh? You want to form a party with me?” He asked, stunned. He never thought anyone would want to team up with him after the owlbear incident.

“Two people is enough to be considered a party. At least, according to guild rules and such. So? How ‘bout it? Party?” She held out her hand again, wriggling her fingers around as she waited for him to take it.

“You’re insane, elf.”

“Emerina.”

“Whatever. But are you really sure about this? Even if the two of us work together, it won’t amount to much.”

“What’s there to be unsure of? Let’s just go all out! Let’s do the hardest quests and face the strongest foes! Let’s kill beholders and dragons and cloud giants!” she said.

“You really are mad. You think we can do all that?”

“Right. They all say that to us, don’t they? We’re useless, we’re cowards, we can’t do anything. Don’t you want to prove them wrong? Become a legend and shove that Failed Nomad title in their faces, Kalaman. Become an adventurer so great that you get another title to cover that one up! It’s not like we have anything else to lose. So let’s just burn ourselves up and become heroes.”

“...”

That was true.

He left the desert to prove them wrong—to prove that he wasn’t a coward. But in the end, he was doing what he always did. He ran away from it all. He ran away from “Kampus”, the word that had plagued him since he was young. And when he finally arrived here, he ran away again.

His entire life, all he did was run away. And now, a path was in front of him. A path to truly prove himself. He realized, deep down, that legends don’t become legends by playing it safe.

He thought the desert had nothing to give him. He was running away from its heat. But now, he knew. Strength was not the desert’s law. The desert was strength itself. To be scalded by it is how a nomad lives. Those who seek shade will only be burned to ashes. A true nomad would accept the heat’s embrace.

...But that wasn’t enough for Kalaman. Not anymore.

What he wanted wasn’t to be a nomad. He wanted to be a hero.

Instead of embracing the sun’s heat, he would choose to light himself ablaze so that he may surpass it.

“...Fuck it. Let’s burn.”

And with a smile, he grasped Emerina’s hand.