I had been expecting the second floor to resemble the streets of my city—destroyed and overrun but still recognizable. Instead, I found myself in a vast desert, an endless golden sand stretching in all directions. The blaring sun scorched the sky, and a harsh wind whipped up sand that stung my skin with each gust. The storm of the desert was intense, with dust flying everywhere. I turned to go back to the previous floor, but the door and castle had vanished. I was stranded in this unforgiving wasteland.

The heat hit me like a wall, stealing my breath and making me blink in shock. I realized how long it had been since I’d had something to drink. My metal armor absorbed the sun's rays, burning my skin. "Oh dear Rellin, take it off! Take it off!" I shouted in desperation. A second later, my armor disappeared, exposing my pink flesh to the brutal sun.

I needed to move, sprinting ahead with no clear destination. As far as I could see, it was done after a golden dune, an unending sea of sand. The air shimmered with heat, and the sky was a harsh, blinding blue. The sense of isolation was overwhelming.

"Malice, do I have anything that can help me survive this heat?" I asked, wiping sweat from my forehead, only to feel more forming instantly. My voice was cracked and dry, barely audible over the sound of the wind.

Malice's voice rang in my ears, dripping with mockery. [Does baby need water? Did you leave the next floor without preparing? Wahhh wahhh.] Despite his mocking tone, my ever-faithful sheet materialized around me in its yoga form, offering some respite from the sun. However, my feet were left to blister on the burning sand.

"Ow, ow, ouch, ow, ouch," I muttered as I trudged onward, each step more painful than the last.

The day dragged on. My mouth became dry, and no amount of saliva could alleviate the parched feeling. My skin had turned a painful, burnt red hours ago, and I wanted to cry, but my dehydration left me with no tears. The relentless sun showed no mercy.

"Malice, give it to me straight—am I going to die?" I croaked, the words barely escaping my parched lips.

Malice's response was as cryptic as ever. [People die when they are killed.] His words made no sense to my heat-addled brain. My vision blurred, and I felt the fog of exhaustion settling in. Come on, Jamie, don't give up now. There's got to be something you can do. Think.

[It would be a shame to have such a magical run end this easily. If only you could snap your fingers and magically solve this situation. But no, surely a paladin is meant to run out of health with full mana.] Malice's sarcastic tone barely registered. My steps faltered, and I fell face-first into the sand as my world darkened.

Later, I felt water pouring into my mouth. It was the sweetest taste, a cup of life. "More..." I whispered hoarsely, not daring to open my eyes, fearing the desert's return. But the sensation continued—cool, slightly sweet water, soothing and abundant. I savored every drop, finally daring to open my eyes.

I was no longer in the desert. Instead, I found myself in a lush oasis surrounded by dense vegetation. The air was humid, and the scent of blooming flowers filled my senses. Tall palm trees provided shade, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. A clear stream flowed nearby, its waters sparkling in the sunlight.

People surrounded me, speaking a language I didn't understand. A man with gleaming yellow hair and dark black armor, which seemed impractical for the desert, held a helmet and said something commandingly. His armor was ornately decorated with intricate designs that seemed ancient and alien. His piercing blue eyes regarded me with a mix of curiosity and concern.

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Thankfully, Malice, my ever-present death-crystal, translated. [Hello,] he relayed. [You are very lucky we found you. Any longer, and you would have been dead.]

"I don't understand you," I said, trying to hide my frustration. I didn't want to rely on Malice for translation, knowing no one else could see or hear him.

A woman with a large nest of red hair approached from the tree line, looking out of place in this strange jungle-desert hybrid. She wore a simple tunic and pants, practical for the environment, but her demeanor was ordinary. A blue crystal floated above her head, glowing softly with an ethereal light. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief, and she had a confident, almost cocky smile.

"Ah, 'ello there. Nice to meet you. I'm Eloise, and you? See, you met the Cappa already," she greeted me, her voice cheerful and playful.

"The Cappa?" I repeated, confused by the unfamiliar term.

"Yeah, the Cappa. His name's Elroy or Eldon or something. Great guy. Rescued you himself, he did," Eloise explained with a casual wave of her hand.

"In that armor?" I asked incredulously, glancing at the man who stood stoically by. The 'Cappa,' which I assumed meant captain, watched our exchange with interest. He clearly didn’t understand our conversation but seemed content that we could communicate.

"Made for this desert, that one. Never seen him hot at all." Eloise then turned to the man and spoke in his language. I didn’t understand a word, and Malice didn’t seem inclined to translate. I whispered, "What are they talking about?"

Malice's voice was low and amused. [They're discussing how best to eat you, my dear. Our friends here are cannibals.] He laughed darkly before adding, [Kidding, kidding. There seems to be some trouble in the camp, and Elric needs to resolve it here.]

Elric? The Elric? Here? The name sent a jolt through me. My ancestor was not known for his kindness. He was a figure of legend, a penitent who had escaped his fate. I immediately dropped to the ground, bowing before him, my forehead touching the cool sand. Elric's lip twitched as he saw my prone form but did not dismiss me.

Eloise looked at me with confusion and irritation before pulling me to my feet. "What are you doing, you daft woman? He's not a bloody king," she scolded, her voice sharp and impatient.

"Are you crazy? It's Elric, the first king! The only penitent to ever escape. The legendary king of kings," I insisted, my voice filled with awe and disbelief.

She glanced at Elric and then back at me, a smirk playing on her lips. "Maybe one day, but for now, he's just a little lordling with a small army. Isn't it funny?" She laughed at her joke,' the sound light and carefree.

"He's a great guy, but make sure you treat him well. He's been through a lot," Eloise added, her tone softening. She began to walk away, leaving me dumbfounded.

"Hey, wait! What do I do?" I called after her, panic rising in my chest.

"Ah, I ain't no govna. Figure it out on your own. Your crystal may know a thing or two. I gotta go fight the boss," she replied with a dismissive wave, not bothering to look back.

"Wait!" I shouted, but there was nothing for it. The crazy lady just walked away. Doesn't she know that grouping up would make things easier?

Elric watched me from a distance, seemingly puzzled by my actions. The language barrier prevented him from knowing why I was acting this way. He whistled, and a few servants approached the clearing. They were dressed in simple clothing, their faces solemn and respectful.

Malice translated Elric's words with a neutral tone. [Honored guest, Eloise tells me you come from the ancient city of {city name}. This here is my servant, Martin. He understands your tongue. Let us talk through him.]

Martin, a tall and lean man with a sharp, angular face, introduced himself and repeated what Elric had said. He wore simple robes, a contrast to Elric's ornate armor, and had an air of quiet authority. Then, in a lowered voice, he added a question Elric hadn't asked: "What are you doing? Your presence could unravel everything we've worked toward."