Book 2, Chapter 1: The Sandsea

[Alen]

            The trip to the city went by without much hassle. Though the caravan was surprised at the sudden coming of an earthquake, the only setback was an injured horse that was lucky healed quite easily by a priest that one of the mercenary parties had brought along. Aside from that, it was a smooth week-long trip with little problems. Alen was honestly surprised there were no bandit attacks, but considering the amount of fellow caravans they were passing, he guessed their route was effectively a busy highway. No criminal would attempt a mugging on a busy street, he guessed.

            As the caravan approached the city’s gates—far smaller than Dreanys’s—Alen let loose a sigh of relief. They didn’t have much planned, really. The plan right now was to travel around the continent and see as much of it as possible. Lynn was driven by wanderlust and adventure, while Roland’s reasons were complicated, at least according to him. Alen just shrugged it off and decided to ask no further. Roland would share when he wanted to.

            He walked up to the orange-haired warrior and glanced at the map in his hands. He was writing notes into a small journal, detailing the events of their trip. Alen stood beside him and spoke. “So, you have any idea where to stop next? We’re headed to the west, right?”

            Roland closed his journal and looked up at him with a sigh. “Yes, and because of it, we’ll have to cross the Sandsea.”

            “The Sandsea?” Alen raised an eyebrow in question.

            The man in front of him pointed to an area in the map, a fairly large segment, about twice as large as the country they were currently in. “This, is the Sandsea. It’s a massive desert that separates the central human territories from the western ones. It’s a mess of a place, unbearably hot and full of monsters and bandits. We’ll have to plan our trip carefully if we plan to cross it.”

            “Can’t we just go around it?”

            “If you want to extend a three month trip to over half a year, be my guest. You have friends to find, don’t you?” Roland asked.

            Alen grimaced at the travel time. “Ouch, yeah. That was a pretty retarded question. Is it really going to take that long though? This week’s been tiring enough.”

            “If everything goes well and we don’t go on any detours, yes. It’ll take that long,” Roland said, jutting down names in his little notebook. “You told me you’ve never had experience traveling long distances in this manner, but you’ll have to get used to it eventually. Teleportation portals exist, but they cost a fortune we don’t have. Even if I had the money on me, I wouldn’t spend it on teleportation unless it was an incredibly urgent matter.”

            “Fair enough,” Alen sighed. “Well, I guess it’s lucky I got a robe that’s suited for both hot and cold climates,” He said, dusting his black mage robes.

            “It is. You’ve bought smartly. I’ve sent a message to a blacksmith in the city we’ll stop at near the Sandsea’s borders and ordered myself some armor that doesn’t absorb as much heat as iron and steel,” Roland said.

            “Ordered? You ordered armor?”

            “Well, yes.”

            Alen was a bit shocked at how modern that sentence sounded. Roland ordered some armor for pickup. How much money did this guy have to be able to do that? And from the looks of it, he wasn’t even bothered by the price, which Alen seriously doubted was cheap. With a disbelieving look, Alen stopped bothering Roland from planning their route and headed to the marketplace.

            The pay they got for escorting that merchant was generous enough for Alen to not worry about basic things like food for a while, but he still needed to buy things like spices so they could cook actual decent food in their trip. He’d had enough of barely seasoned meals over the last week, and he definitely wasn’t bearing with it until they stopped at another town or village. Roland, Lynn, and Alen took turns cooking, and surprisingly, none of them were half bad cooks either.

            He spotted a clean-looking shop and was about to enter when he noticed three young men crowding—rather, looming over the old man in the middle of the street in a threatening manner.

            Immediately, Alen frowned. Looks like clichés really would follow someone like him wherever he went.

            Alen started walking towards them to break it off when a young man that looked like a typical delinquent pushed the old man, knocking the frail bag of bones to the ground as he shouted at the old geezer. Alen didn’t even hear what he was saying because his vision seemed to turn dark from seeing the sight. It was a medieval society alright. Even the elderly weren’t spared from violence. He felt anger boiling inside his stomach.

            He hadn’t seen his family in months and seeing that old man reminded him of his grandfather that he loved dearly. As the old man fell down, his own grandad’s image seemed to superimpose into the old man on the ground.

            His steps quickened, his mana gathering in his hand as a dark expression covered his face. Alen touched the young man’s shoulder and his mana surged.

            The boy around his age looked back in surprise, a frown on his face. “What are yo—“

            Alen watched his two friends back up in surprise as the young man’s expression went slack, falling to the ground limply as Alen’s magic swept through his body from the inside. He fell on his back, his eyes still wide open in surprise as he looked up at the sky, unmoving. His two friends froze, paling before bolting away from Alen as he looked down at the young man on the ground.

            The altered version of Numb Senses had taken effect.

            Alen grit his teeth. He really wanted to punch the fucker, but he was never the kind to get into those kinds of fights with other people. He’d lose in a scrap, and he knew it.

            He stepped over the temporarily paralyzed body and offered his hand to the red-faced old man. He took Alen’s hand and stood up with a grunt, huffing as he stared at the body below and spat on the ground. The old man paused for a moment before he looked at Alen and smiled warmly. After saying his thanks, he gave the young man that had helped him a hug.

            Alen smiled, remembering his grandparents that he would talk to and hug just like this back home. He clapped the old man’s shoulder and spoke. “You’re welcome, sir. Please call out for help next time, because any normal person would be happy to give a hand.”

            The old man nodded and walked away, a spring in his aged steps. The necromancer watched him walk away and walked into the store, a warmth in his chest as he poured salt and spice into thin little sacks. Afterwards, he walked up to the counter, five little pouches in his hands. The middle aged man on the counter smiled at him.

            “I saw what you did there outside. You’re a magic user, right? I’m glad to see the people with the power to help are using it,” The man said, weighing the pouches on a scale.

            “Well, those fuckers deserved it. If I ever saw anyone doing that to my granddad, I’d have done much worse,” Alen said, anger stirring in his chest at the mere thought of anyone hurting the old man that he’d always walk home after school.

            The man nodded. “You’re a good lad,” He said, putting the pouches back onto the counter. “These will be seventy copper. I’d usually sell this much for a piece of silver, but consider it my thanks for that old man on the street.”

            Alen grinned and reached into his pocket to grab his coin purse.

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            He felt air.

            He blinked, digging deeper into his pockets. Still nothing. Slowly, his thoughts were replaced by blankness. This lasted for a few seconds before his shoulders drooped, a ‘dead’ expression covering his face as he lethargically pushed the pouches of spice back towards the man who slowly came to an understanding.

            “N…Nevermind,” Alen said, walking out of the store and despondently looking up at the sky. That old man had hugged him. Now his coin purse was gone.

            He looked at the still paralyzed young man on the ground and slowly understood.

            “Fuck my life.”

            A mercenary, a man who looked to be forty with graying blonde hair, laughed as he clapped the shoulder of a young man with emerald green eyes. The expression of the boy was one of despondence and regret as he finished recounting the experience. “It’s alright,” The man reassured him. “We mercenaries all end up experiencing things like these at some point. Take it as a learning experience to figure out a situation before acting.”

            “That fucking ‘learning experience’ cost me a week’s worth of pay from a caravan escort commission,” Alen sighed, biting into a fruit as he walked.

            “Look on the bright side,” Lynn who was walking beside him laughed. “At least that spice merchant found you outside and gave you the spices for free. I cooked a mean stew that night, didn’t I?”

            “It tasted bitter to me,” Alen said, deadpan. “The water did too.”

            “How did the air taste?” Roland in front of them added.

            “Bitter.”

            The two other mercenaries around them burst into laughter, slapping Alen on the shoulder before walking off to move towards the other side of the carriage. Behind them trailed a group of travelers on saddled horses, small carts of belongings trailing behind them.

            This time, they managed to land an escort commission for a group of tourists headed towards the Sandsea. Naturally, the job would end as soon as they reached the town near the border, which wasn’t very far away. After another three weeks of traveling and mana program refining, Alen finally managed to reduce Rotfire Bolt, Deathchill Touch, and the completed version of his improved Undead Empowerment—Necrotic Blessing, to acceptable mana costs. The spells would no longer completely drain his mana pool after a few casts, and Alen decided to start creating new spell more thoughtfully from now on.

            Furthermore, their remaining travel time was apparently for less than half a day now, and that they were expected to arrive at the border-town just a few hours after lunch.

            Alen looked down at his feet that were covered in leather boots and grimaced. Over the trip, his feet had developed blisters that eventually transformed into calluses. Even now, his feet ached. He took out a tusk from his pocket and tossed it to the ground, summoning a skeletal Hunchback Lizard that he proceeded to mount. Roland told him that the Sandsea had a unique way of transportation, and that his lizards would be nigh obsolete as mounts in the sands, so Alen was doing his best to dwindle his supply of the lizard teeth he’d painstakingly gathered over the past four weeks.

            He opened his bag and let Cuck out, the little skeletal chicken hopping onto his mount and riding it with him. He probably should’ve gotten rid of the chicken a long time ago, but it had grown on him after it had saved them, and well, he’d pretty much taken it as some sort of fucked up pet.

            He opened his status and noted that nothing much had changed. His mana gain had slowed after they started traveling, and it was now at a point where it was just a bit away from letting him pass his sixth threshold. He felt immensely satisfied with his spell list though. Nodding to himself, Alen pressed an icon and a blue screen popped into his vision.

Egg Chat Room

Bernard: i hate him so much. fucker’s been sending me out left and right after I learned how to craft decent weapons and Anne’s basically just been playing her lute all day.

Anne: That, and being awesome with a hammer. We got ambushed by some thieves when we were traveling to this village and Bernard didn’t even get the chance to use weapon float before I knocked them all out.

Bernard: they were pretty damn weak. i’m calling second or third threshold at most.

Adam: seventh threshold boys

Anne: Same.

Alen: Fifth threshold main here.

James: O hi.

Anne: I love how he hasn’t leveled up in nearly a month. What have you been doing dude?

Alen: Dying off in the road to get to you fuckers. Also, James is in the western side as well, right? Why hasn’t he joined you guys yet?

James: Im traveling with my teacher and I dont want to spend a month going around the country yet. Ill be down as soon as I graduate from this apprenticeship though.

Bernard: kek

Adam: why can’t team just pick up adam honestly. i’m sick of seeing trees man, they’re literally fucking everywhere and i haven’t left this village since i got here

Alen: Wha, elves are cool.

Adam: i mean, they literally pray to trees and i’ve been doing it lately too. i wana die

Sam: I dunno man, I’d worship me some good wood.

Adam: Hickory?

Sam: Oak.

Adam: fuck you

Bernard: all i want in life is James’s wood

Sam: Whoa man chill.

Alen: Same. I just want James’s bombs so he can blow me already.

James: I hate you all.

            The chatting continued for essentially the rest of the trip, with his friends conveniently taking time off at different intervals so he never ran out of people to talk to. They’d reminisce and share old jokes, and Alen felt his homesickness go away by a good amount by talking to them. Eventually, the cold air that was present throughout the air for the last few weeks slowly disappeared, replaced by the increasingly hot glare of the sun.

            Alen turned off the chat as they entered the town. Usually, they’d rest here for a bit, but Roland and Lynn immediately dragged him off as soon as they got paid.

            “We’ll take a break later. There’s another town just a few more hours away,” Roland said, taking out a piece of paper from the payment that was just handed to him.

            Eilynn was walking ahead of them excitedly, a grin on her face as she impatiently ushered the forward faster. “Come on, let’s reach that town before night falls so we can all eat the Sandsea’s specialty food!” She then looked forward, beaming as she continued. “Alen, have you ever ridden a Galeboat?”

            “A what? A gay boat?”

            “No, no. A Galeboat. It’s the Sandsea’s main method of transportation and the main reason it got its name,” She said, anticipation on her face as they crossed the street and entered a building. Roland handed someone the slip and that person gave him a set of keys.

            Alen blinked. “Sandsea. Galeboat. We’re using a boat in the desert?”

            Roland smiled as he led them into the building’s basement, revealing a large hangar-looking room with small, lightweight boats docked all around. They looked like canoes, but with large furled sails and a steering wheel surrounded by levers attached to it.

            Lynn pulled Alen to the seats at the front as Roland sat down in front of the wheel behind them.

            “What are you doing? Why are we boarding the boat inside the hangar?”

            “You’ll see,” Roland said, inserting the keys into a keyhole before turning. Behind them, the ropes keeping the ship suspended slightly off the ground were slowly loosening. Unbeknownst to Alen, the floor under them was slowly opening up like a trap door as well.

            Lynn gingerly put on a seatbelt and Alen decided to do the same. He didn’t have a good feeling about this with how vague they were being, but seatbelts equaled safety, which he guessed he would probably be needing soon. Alen looked at the two of them skeptically and spoke.

            “So uh, what are we doing? Where’s the Sandse—!!!”

            Suddenly, the boat plunged downwards, making Alen feel as if he was suddenly riding a rollercoaster as the hangar suddenly disappeared from sight. Wind buffeted his face for a quick moment, before the boat seemed to land on something soft. Instantly, Alen’s stomach lurched as the boat began to descend in a slope an instant later.

            He heard Lynn beside him cheering as he widened his squinted eyes at the scene displayed before him.

            A desert expanded out as far as the eye could see, powerful winds buffeting his ears as the boat glided down the immensely tall sand dune that the hangar had been hanging above. Around them, boats similar to theirs swam over the glimmering shine of the sand below them as the sun shone on their majestic white sails.

Rock formations he’d only see in in pictures dotted the horizon, the world darkening for a moment as their boat that was being piloted by Roland passed under an archway of natural stone paved by the heat and wind of the desert.

A childish grin of amazement slowly replaced the shock on his face.

            Suddenly, he heard laughter and realized it was his own as the boat lurched to the side and turned. Lynn beside him was giggling out of her mind from excitement while Roland cheered behind the wheel as he spread the sails open even wider in their descent. Screams left all three of their mouths as the Galeboat suddenly shot past a slight slope and flew into the air, the massive sails bringing them forward faster as Roland pulled at a lever beside him.

            The sides of the boat immediately extended outwards to reveal what looked to be cloth and wood that surrounded the boat and acted like wings as their descent slowed. The boat glided through the air for a good three seconds before hitting the ground again, laughter ringing out from its passengers as it continued forward, gliding between two spires of massive rock.

            Alen felt his heart beating against his chest, the smile on his face wider than any smile he’d ever displayed before as the boat sailed through the glimmering sands.

            Once again, even after he had finally gotten used to it, Alen was reminded once again.

            This was a fantasy world.

            And this, this was the Sandsea.