The four of us traverse the desert, marching in silent tow behind Gerim, who keeps sinking into the sand. The silence isn’t by choice, there’s a lot to talk about—or at least ask about.

There isn’t much ahead of us, just more sand on the horizon, but looking over to the left I catch the blazing red of the Fire Divide. From time to time it lights up the sky with spires of volcanic eruptions—I’m glad I didn’t go there.

For all the faults of the Desert Divide—the Human-hungry Demons, the rotating storms, and the scalding sands—I can’t imagine surviving anywhere else. My body’s begun to adapt to Reais, enough that the tortures I suffer from the blistering sands and wind have begun to feel more or less like a mild inconvenience. I’d credit that to my leveled traits, [Calloused Exterior]- Lvl.2 and [Telepathy]- Lvl.3.

The former cost me two Trait points to level up and the latter is still a difficult tool to use around Demons like Hargoil and Gerim. I should include the twins as well, but I barely ever sense anything from them—it’s as if they’re always shielding their thoughts.

Or maybe their telepathy is simply a much higher level than mine. Gerim and Hargoil have no trouble communicating with them or ordering them around. In the short few moments the two Demons and I have been in the same place together I’ve yet to catch their names—if they have any to begin with.

But the question of the twin beetles having names is the least important one on my mind. The mission Gerim’s marched us out here for is simple—at least for everyone else.

Calridian has ordered our squad to hunt down a certain kind of Demon and bring back specific parts of its body. Why? For his [Spells].

And that has me itching to break the silence. The howling winds tossing dust and sand in our faces is all I can hear for miles. When we stepped out of the city I set myself on edge, flooding my senses with Essence in a crude but effective enhancement.

There are a few other Demons lingering around, watching us as we tread further away from the city, but the deeper into the desert we march the scarcer they are—none have dared approach.

Staring at Gerim’s spiked back, I know well to attribute this quiet to his presence. At least the majority of the credit would go to him. Hargoil, although quite capable— at least twice as strong as I am—has nothing on Gerim. The heavy and brutal beatdown he received punctuates this fact.

Moving in a group like this would scare off the lesser Demons, the ones that sense me from afar and designate me as prey otherwise. I’m grateful for the protection but a bit irritated by it. It’s a lot harder to farm Essence this way.

I shouldn’t be worried… or too eager, I tell myself as my focus shifts from Gerim to Hargoil.

The tall—easily twice my height—Demon has a keen sense for power and those seeking it. Watching the twins trail behind him, I can’t help wondering how they ended up his minions.

It can’t be because they’re the same species… although I wonder if demonic species are even a thing—it seems to be. The trio certainly look alike but neither of them share any of the same features. Hargoil’s carapace-armoured body is a deep brown while the twins are a lighter shade, one having distinctive red spots around its body.

Still, even if they are of the same demonic species, something else must’ve brought them under Hargoil’s brutal heel. And I’d bet it’s the same thirst for power I’m blatantly oozing off that Hargoil used to his advantage.

Or you’re just being paranoid.

Taking a breath, I remind myself none of that is important. The paranoia is warranted, of course, but I can’t let it get in the way either. If Hargoil is interested in helping me get stronger, even if he believes I’ll somehow end up his blind minion, then so be it.

Mutual exploitation. Let’s go for it.

The deserts dunes shift as new ones are formed. The terrain never changes, but the shape takes many forms. Beyond Gerim’s large spiked back I spot something in the distance, sitting at the top of one of the dunes.

Letting Essence flow into my eyes, the picture clears up and worry swells within me at the dark cloaked figure with a long rapier. My heart thumps against my chest as the figure of a man rises and meets my eyes, even from this distance.

“Do you guys see that?” I ask everyone, patting even the silent twins and pointing out to the figure now posturing with his rapier.

“What? What are talking about?” Hargoil snarls, looking over at the same dune.

That’s all I needed. This is another nightmare, another waking nightmare, and I can’t turn back. My throat dries up as the man kicks off the sands, running down at me with the rapier glowing. I shut my eyes and try to ignore it, but the darkness of my eyelids swell with a light, I lose my footing, and all of a sudden the man with the rapier is yelling down at me from ramparts while I toss and flop around in rushing water.

Confused, I find my Demon body is gone. I’m a child in a dress now, small, vulnerable, and without the muscle to fight the cascading flood.

The horror scars his face and I know I’m going to drown. The water washes over me, drowning out his frantic screams, his prayers, as I’m met with another darkness.

I snap my eyes open, panting, sweating, and out of breath. Gerim and Hargoil are far ahead of me now, but there’s two hands holding mine. The twins.

When they notice I’m awake, they snatch their hands away and march off to meet Hargoil.

Fuck, this has to stop. These nightmares… I can’t take it any longer.

I quicken my pace and catch up with the long Demon. He stares down at me and exudes more of that pride and smugness. “What do you know about the Spells?” I say, recovering some of my composure. If there’s anything that can help me, it’d be magic.

His impression becomes curious, but he doesn’t answer.

“You said Calridian’s back at it with his Spells. Do you know how those work? Do you have any?” I press on, not bothering to hide my intentions.

[Spells] are one of the many things on the stat sheet I’ve yet to understand. I have even more questions about how Essence works, but it’s best to address what’s relevant.

“So you have mana?” Hargoil asks.

Finding the question odd, I pause to stare at the sheet and try tugging on the faint tingling sensation building within before turning to ask, “Don’t you?”

His thin mouth curls with disgust and his impression quickly fills with enough hostility to get Gerim’s attention.

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“What are you two doing? Don’t waste my darn time, or I’ll leave you for the damn Dawern to swallow.” He grunts, his fists balled up and quills sprung.

Hargoil’s hostile impression vanishes into thin air, replaced by a cold indifference as he makes clicking sounds with his mouth.

“Nothing, I was just asking about the, uh, Dawern?” I fumble, poorly hiding my surface thoughts from the larger Demon.

“The Dawern is what Calridian wants us to kill, but you want to know about Spells. You’re a curious one. You look like a Human and think like one too,” he growls at me before getting distracted by his feet sinking into the sand. “Araggh!”

Gerim rips his feet out and continues the march. “Keep your senses open. The Dawern will swallow you whole if you’re unprepared. And I don’t want to be forced to fish you out of its maw.”

Hargoil follows after him, leaving me behind to nurse my shame as though he hadn’t been the reason Gerim started his barking.

He’d throw me under the bus any day.

I carry on behind them, still left wondering how [Spells] work and how I can get them. But it’s not an entire loss—Hargoil’s given away that mana is vital to the process, and more so the fact that he may not have any.

Mana is rare… valuable.

But of course it is—the building block of magic should be coveted. And I do covet it. If I can figure out how to start working with mana, magic, and [Spells], then I’m sure I’ll be stronger.

At least a step closer to the strength I’ll need to square off with the damned deities that cursed me to the Wall.

Another thing I have no idea about. Who are they and where are they?

Gritting my teeth, I set aside the troubled thoughts and focus on cycling Essence throughout my body, enhancing my senses and looking out for this Dawern we’re on the hunt for. From what Gerim’s said I know it’s large enough to gulp me down, but so far nothing’s changed in the desert. Not a single Demon swimming through the sands, not one scuttling over the dunes, not a single one glaring at us from the distance.

It’s as if the desert’s been deserted.

Gerim stops, the twins and Hargoil follow soon after, and I nearly bump into them for my slow reaction. Gerim’s back bristles, the quills shivering—like the whiskers of a hissing cat—and his fat sausage digits curl into a claw.

“Run!” he barks, dashing in the other direction the moment the sand begins to loosen, pouring into the center and rumbling beneath my feet.

Hargoil leaps away, the twins follow after, and I start a desperate sprint away from the disappearing footing. The rumbling and the sinking halt as a long moaning roar echoes from the hole beneath. A row of brown, discolored leathery skin leaps out of the pit, chasing the sound of its own roar.

The massive worm-like Demon crashes to the side of the pit, tossing itself over until it lands on the numerous stumpy appendages sticking out of its belly. The appendages carry it faster than Gerim’s two legs as it immediately launches itself after him. Three other creatures make after Hargoil and I. Their limbs, thick and heavy with muscles, are like a snake, coiling around themselves. They’re covered in dark brown scales and look similar to an earthworm or even a centipede. There’s something strange about them though… I can see them move and change shape. The creatures seem to be alive and have some intelligence at least.

A second Demon is sent flying into the sand pile where I stand as the twins fire two thin bolts into it, but not before the other two are upon Hargoil. Two of them grab at his shoulders and he struggles to free himself. One manages to latch onto his back while the other goes for his head. Hargoil stabs with a large spine and sends one of the Demons away, impaled and hissing, but the other remains on him. With no real choice, Hargoil turns his attention toward the one holding onto him.

The Demon tries to get its teeth through Hargoil’s skin and muscle, but the thick armor keeps it from getting a grip. The acid it slobbers, however, starts to gnaw and corrode Hargoil. He grunts, summoning a spine out of his palm to stab the Demon with. It reels, shrieks, and lets go of Hargoil.

The massive worm still chases after Gerim. Its mouth hangs ajar and shovels copious amounts of sand in each time it launches for Gerim. The quilled Demon is swift to react—each time what I’m guessing must be the [Dawern] lunges, Gerim leaps in the air, twisting this way and that, shooting out quills with each turn, only to launch up again when the [Dawern] closes its jaws for another strike. Gerim lands so quickly I almost lose sight of him before I see the worm land, its fangs buried deep into Gerim’s shoulder, its head swivelling to get the full measure of him, but it never gets a clear shot at Gerim. Instead, he leaps off, leaving it there, thrashing madly with its jaws locked shut on the spot he left it at.

Injured, Essence pours through the gash in his shoulder and it begins to heal, the thick ichor running from him like a thin stream over sand. As soon as it’s gone more than half his wounds are healed, but the ones on his stomach aren’t as fortunate. He doesn’t let himself heal any further though, instead using those quills that are now free to shoot at the Beast, forcing it to take several steps back before charging toward Gerim, its teeth ready to snap.

I can’t stop to watch, because as Gerim faces off with the mother [Dawern] more of the little ones pour out of the pit. Smaller ones begin to crawl out as well; these are no more than a head and a foot in size though, so they’re not quite big enough to make any real progress with Hargoil’s and the twins’ volley of spines shooting them down. The bigger ones, however, begin to climb out. Their scales are dark and slick and the sand they leave behind glistens from the grease the worms must’ve accumulated over countless centuries, making it hard for the spines to pierce.

They’re all versions of the same monster. Large and small, evolving through it all to become as massive as the mother that hunts Gerim. A wave of excitement rushes through me and Essence floods my muscles.

It’s a horde of Demons, launching themselves at me. I can’t let this chance pass me up!

My legs spring off the ground, landing with a thud in front of the first medium-sized one who emerges from the pit. I charge forward, my body moving in perfect harmony with my will, my mind focused on my next goal: the head.

Before I know what I’m doing, I reach out and grip it by the neck, slamming its head into the sand as it turns. My hand moves so quickly and powerfully that I almost drop the slippery thing, but somehow I manage to stay on it, holding onto it tightly even as it struggles to squirm free of me.

It begins to struggle, thrashing in an attempt to break free. I direct a flood of Essence from my [Soul Crystal] into my arms, forcing them to grow stronger, to move faster and stronger as my body begins to burn more energy than it takes in, enough to power this fight until I either defeat it or am forced to flee from the creatures. With each thrust of my arm the worm writhes violently against me before eventually succumbing to the power I exert over it. Its struggles stop and a small trickle of Essence leaks from the wounds I’ve created.

The sense of it overwhelms me with lust—the Demon underneath me is at least at [Crimson]- Lvl. 1.

It’s Crystal will be mine.

“Nil, Hargoil! That’s not the mission, get over here and help me end the Dawern!”

Gerim’s snapped order irritates me, but my rage at the prospect of this creature dying without being able to claim its Crystal is too much for me to ignore. So I force the Demon under me down with another shove to the ground before dragging it close, using my own weight to keep the Dawern pinned, using its own momentum against it to make sure it doesn’t try to pull away again. The creature lets out a low moan, struggling to find a way to get back up. It’s going to die either way though no matter what I do, so I use its struggles to push myself higher. My hand reaches around the Demon’s throat and I begin to choke it, squeezing tightly while pulling on it with the other hand, trying to crush as much blood out of it as I can before it stops moving completely.

I let go of it only when its death throes become unbearable; its long slippery throat cracked in by pressure, the Demon hurls out buckets of blood and hissing acid. The acid reminds me—Gerim. Moments before the Demon gasps its last breaths, I fuel my jaws with Essence and take a giant bite out of it.

Its flesh is like butter in my mouth and I relish the taste. Its blood is red like my own and tastes even better.

I let the body of the creature drop to the ground after I swallow, taking several steps back from it before I begin to search for its Crystal. Tearing into my bite from earlier, it doesn’t take even a second to retrieve the burning [Crimson]- Lvl.1.

“Nil!” It’s Hargoil that bellows my name, but the call comes too late. A few of the smaller Dawern are still crawling toward me. The first one I see has the same black slime on it I’ve seen in my vision. I grab it by its back and crush it between my palms. I have a brief second of pleasure before it dies and then its Pink [Soul Crystal] becomes mine.

There are more though, a couple of big ones among them. One is a bit more challenging than the others since it’s a little closer to me, but I don’t hesitate this time to grab it. Before it knows what I’m doing, I slam it against the sand with my hands, making sure it won’t be getting up for a while, before turning my attention back to the other monsters now coming at me.

As much as I’d love to enjoy farming these Pink Crystals, none of my haul will matter if we don’t kill the mother first. So I start running again, leaving a trail of monsters in my wake until I arrive at the large monster leading them all this time