Aldrina was hot and sweating, and the desert heat was not doing her any favors. Her armor felt like it was baking her alive. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, squinting against the relentless sun.

“Gods, it’s like a furnace out here,” she muttered, adjusting the straps of her armor in a vain attempt to let some air in before deciding to just take it all off altogether. It took her a good thirty minutes to finally shed her armor, each piece hitting the sand with a muted thud. The relief was immediate, but the heat was still oppressive.

She reached into her satchel and brought out a roll of rope. Tying the end of the rope to her rather large shield, placing her armor on top of it, and she pulled, dragging the heavy pieces across the sand. The effort was grueling, but she couldn’t leave it behind. It was too heavy, too valuable, and she needed it for the battles to come.

With any luck, she would be back in Osta by tomorrow night. The thought of a cool drink and a soft bed was all that kept her moving. The desert stretched out endlessly before her, each dune looking like the last. But she knew the way. She had to. There was no room for doubt out here.

The sun had climbed higher, its merciless rays beating down on Aldrina as she trudged through the sand. Hours had passed, each step feeling heavier than the last.

“Fuck this shit,” she huffed, her voice raspy from the dry air. “I hate the desert!”

She kicked at a clump of sand in frustration, watching it scatter in the wind. Her irritation was a small distraction from the grueling heat, but it did little to alleviate her discomfort. The heat was oppressive, and the landscape offered no respite.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity. The sun was relentless, and there was no shade to be found. Aldrina’s mind wandered, seeking anything to distract her from the monotony and the pain. She thought of her kids, of the cool drink she would savor and the soft bed she would collapse into. Those thoughts kept her moving, one agonizing step at a time.

As she climbed another dune, the landscape stretched out before her, unchanging and unforgiving. She felt like she was walking in circles, but she knew she had to keep going. She had to get back. Or she would die.

“How much longer until we make it back, Torra?” she asked, her voice cracking with fatigue.

“It’s been six hours. The sun will go down in just a few more. Believe it or not, you’re making good time.” The deep, gravelly voice of her partner echoed in her mind, and he chuckled.

Aldrina smirked despite her exhaustion. “Good time, huh? Feels like I’m moving at a snail’s pace.”

“You’re tougher than you think,” Torra replied. “Keep going. Your kids are waiting for you.”

That thought alone gave her a burst of energy. She pictured their faces, imagined their laughter, and it pushed her forward. The dunes seemed endless, but she forced herself to keep moving. Each step was a victory, a testament to her determination.

Just then, she saw a very strange sight—arms flailing out of the sand, a man digging his way out of the dunes. He looked frightened and tubby, lying there in the sun. His outfit was unusual, like nothing Aldrina had seen before, and he had a simple-looking sword strapped to his side.

"Is that another human?" she asked, squinting to get a better look.

"Looks like it," Torra replied, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Aldrina approached cautiously, her hand resting on the hilt of her own sword. She couldn't afford to take any chances out here. As she got closer, she saw the man more clearly—he was disheveled, his clothes covered in sand, and his eyes were wide with fear and exhaustion. She walked next to him and knelt.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice firm but not unkind.

He looked at her, his lips cracked and dry, eyes filled with a mixture of relief and desperation. "I... I..." he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. But before he could say more, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

“What was that about?” Aldrina muttered.

“Well, from the looks of it, I’d say mana exhaustion,” Torra explained. “That’s my guess.”

She glanced above his head, her passive skill, Terramind, flaring to life and revealing his level.

“Level 2,” she said, her voice tinged with a mix of surprise and disdain. “Looks like another noble brat looking to level.”

“That would explain his, um… roundness,” Torra added dryly.

Aldrina sighed, looking at the unconscious man sprawled in the sand. The situation was becoming more complicated by the minute. “Great, just what we needed,” she muttered, poking his belly.

“What should we do with him? Should we just leave him? I don’t feel like dragging him around,” she asked, glancing at the armor she was already hauling.

“Tempting, but no. Think about it. If we rescue him, his family might reward us. We’ll get those 500 gold crowns back if we help,” Torra explained.

She thought about it for a moment, lifting herself back up. “You do make a good point,” she conceded. She looked down at the unconscious man and sighed again. “Alright, let's set up camp. Maybe he’ll be worth the trouble.”

Everything was hazy as if a thick fog rolled in. Michael walked slowly, each step echoing in the eerie silence. As he made his way through the fog, he realized he was back in the cave. Except it looked different—there weren't as many gems embedded in the walls, and most importantly, the toxic lake was missing. The spot where he first appeared now held a scene that stopped him in his tracks.

Two large dragons dominated the space. One was a deep, menacing red, and the other a bright, clear white. The white dragon had its claw pressed firmly on the neck of the red one, who was pinned to the ground, struggling.

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Michael squinted at the red dragon, his breath catching in his throat. “Is that... Embora? She looks smaller.” His voice was barely a whisper, but it seemed to echo through the cavern.

The red dragon—smaller and seemingly more vulnerable than he remembered—struggled under the weight of the white dragon's claw. Her eyes, however, were fierce and defiant, burning with a fire that Michael recognized.

“Curse you, Droll’a!” Embora spat, her voice filled with a mixture of rage and desperation. “You’ll never win this war! You’ll doom all of dragonkind!”

The white dragon, Droll’a, pressed down harder, causing Embora to grimace in pain. His eyes gleamed with cold, calculated malice. “Embora,” he intoned smoothly, his voice deep and resonant. “I’m doing this for all of us.”

He lifted his claw off her neck and backed away, giving her a momentary reprieve. As she struggled to rise, he raised his front claw, and light blue and gold notes of light pooled into it, swirling and coalescing into a luminous orb. With a swift, decisive motion, he crushed the orb within his claw, and a shimmering wall of light sprang up around Embora.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” she roared, her voice filled with fury and desperation. She lunged at the barrier, her claws raking against it, but the light held firm. Her efforts were futile.

Droll’a’s expression remained impassive, almost sorrowful. “I did what I needed to do,” he said, his voice echoing with a finality that sent chills down Michael’s spine. “You will stay here until ⱦħē ⱳⱥɍ īꞩ ꝋꝟēɍ.”

Everything started to fade away into darkness, and then he woke up, drenched in sweat. “What. was. That?” he said, gasping for air.

“Embora?”

“Yes, Michael?”

“What was that?” He rubbed his head, trying to shake off the lingering disorientation. “I had a weird dream, and you were in it.”

“I can't see your dreams, Michael, but I know what you’re talking about,” Embora replied, her voice calm and steady. “When humanoids and creatures make a pact, sometimes you can see their memories. Perhaps that's what you saw?”

Michael started to calm down slightly, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. The dream—no, the memory—felt too vivid, too real to be a mere figment of his imagination. “So, that was your memory? Droll’a... he trapped you?”

He could sense her pause. “Yes… It happened so, so long ago,” she explained, her voice tinged with a sorrow that seemed to span centuries.

Before Michael could reply, he noticed his surroundings. It was night, a stark contrast to the day he remembered before he fell asleep. A fire crackled nearby, casting flickering shadows around the campsite. He realized he was in a sleeping bag—or rather, a thick-furred blanket—its warmth a welcome comfort against the desert's nighttime chill.

“Well, look who's awake,” a deep feminine voice said behind him. He turned around and saw a woman sitting on a rock, eating something that looked like a large cooked scorpion with two stingers on a stick. She was tall, with tanned skin and messy dark red hair, looking to be about twenty-five. She was wearing a dark sleeveless blouse, her arms muscular and strong. But most importantly, she had long ears. She must be an elf.

Michael blinked, still a bit groggy. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

The woman looked up from her meal, regarding him with sharp, intelligent eyes. “Name’s Aldrina,” she replied, taking another bite of the scorpion thing. “Found you half-buried in the sand. You’re lucky I came along when I did,” she said, chewing.

She swallowed her food and stood up, wiping her hands on her pants. “Now, mind telling me what a level 2 human is doing out here by himself?”

Right as Michael was about to speak, he was cut off by a voice in his head. “Do not tell her the truth. Tell her what I tell you,” Embora instructed.

Michael hesitated for a moment before responding. “I... I got lost,” he began, trying to sound convincing. “I was traveling with a group, but we got separated. I’ve been wandering for days, trying to find my way back.”

Aldrina's eyes narrowed, her suspicion evident. “A group, huh? And what happened to them?”

“They were attacked,” Michael said, his mind racing to follow Embora’s instructions. “By... by bandits. I managed to escape, but I don’t know what happened to the others.”

Aldrina studied him, her gaze sharp and probing. “Bandits, you say? And yet, you don’t have a single scratch on you. Doesn’t add up, kid.”

Michael swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her scrutiny. “Stick to the story,” Embora urged. “Tell her you hid and ran.”

“I... I hid,” Michael stammered. “And then I ran. I didn’t have a choice.”

She looked at him, suspicion evident in her eyes. “Are you some noble’s kid?” she asked accusingly.

“Go along with it, Michael,” Embora said.

Michael swallowed hard again, the pressure of the moment pressing down on him. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m a noble’s son. My father sent me out here to level up.”

Aldrina’s eyes narrowed further, her suspicion palpable. “A noble’s son, huh? Sent out here to level up?” She stepped closer, her presence imposing. She looked away for a moment, a serious look on her face as if concentrating on something else. Then she looked back at Michael, her gaze piercing.

““Tell me, you from Osta?” Aldrina’s voice cut through the cool desert air as she looked down at Michael, her stature imposing and confident.

“Um… Yes?” Michael answered hesitantly, uncertainty lacing his words.

Aldrina let out a huff, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Perfect. I was headed there myself. Judging from your level, you won’t get far out here alone. I’ll escort you home for 500 gold crowns.”

“Gold Crowns?” Embora, what are crowns?” Michael asked internally, his confusion evident.

“Ah, I see that hasn’t changed at least,” Embora replied with a sigh. “It’s the currency here. 500 is quite a lot, however. Just agree to pay it.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m flat broke!” Michael shouted in his head, panic creeping into his thoughts. “What am I going to say when I can’t pay her?!”

“I know that, but unfortunately she is right. I can’t see us making it to a town at our level. We can figure it out once we’re there. So just agree for now,” Embora said, her tone reassuring yet firm.

Michael’s internal debate was interrupted by Aldrina waving her hand in front of his face. “Hello? Anyone home?” Her voice was tinged with impatience. “You talking to your partner in there?”

Michael flinched, taken aback by her perceptiveness. “H-how do you know about that?” he stammered, his voice betraying his unease.

Aldrina tilted her head in confusion. “Well duh, anyone over level 1 must have partnered up with a creature. It's common sense.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. “I knew nobles don't get out much but to not know that...”

Michael felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. “I, uh, guess I’ve been sheltered,” he admitted, trying to sound nonchalant.

Aldrina shook her head, her expression a mix of amusement and frustration. “What kinda creature you partnered up with anyway?”

"Don’t tell her I'm a dragon," Embora said.

"Why not?" Michael asked internally.

"Trust me, tell her you partnered up with a Salamandrake," Embora suggested.

"Salamandrake? What's a Salamandrake?"

"It’s... similar to a dragon, but smaller and more serpent-like. However, it should suffice," she explained.

Michael turned his attention back to Aldrina. “A Salamandrake,” he said finally. “I met her not too long ago.”

Aldrina’s eyebrows shot up, looking surprised. “Nice, did your daddy pay for it?” she asked with a hint of aggravation, then sighed.

Michael felt a sting at her words but decided to ignore it. “No, I found her on my own,” he said firmly.

Aldrina studied him for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “Well, either way, you’re lucky to have bonded with one. A Salamandrake isn’t a common partner, especially around here.” Aldrina shrugged. “Well, a deal’s a deal. 500 gold crowns, and I’ll get you to Osta in one piece.”

A new screen popped open.

[You have been invited to a party.]

[Party leader : Aldrina]

[party size, 1 of 4]

[Yes] [No]

Michael blinked at the sudden appearance of the screen. The unexpected notification floating in front of him was a stark reminder of the game-like nature of this world. He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with questions and doubts.

"Accept it," Embora urged. "It will make it easier to travel and coordinate with her. Plus you’ll earn some experience if she kills something, not as much but at your level you need it"

Michael took a deep breath and selected [Yes]. The screen disappeared, replaced by a new notification confirming he had joined the party. He glanced at Aldrina, who was now back to eating her peculiar meal.

“Good,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “Rest up for the night. We leave at dawn.” She sat back down on the rock, the firelight casting flickering shadows across her determined face.