[We do not remember days; we remember moments.] — Cesare Pavese

"Hamsha, please enlighten us. Why did your tribe attack the Mirha tribe?" Azar asked, breaking the silence, tired from the oppressive heat and angered at the empty desert before him. There was no trace of Tora.

Hamsha remained silent, refusing to talk.

"You see, that's something I don't like." Azar gestured with his finger. "Building trust is essential for a healthy relationship, and both parties must be involved," he said.

"I can't answer. The chief will kill me if I talk," Hamsha replied.

"Stop living in the past. I am the only person you have to be concerned about, so please speak your mind," Azar insisted, but Hamsha remained quiet. "I order you to talk!"

As soon as he said that, Hamsha felt a familiar pain that forced him to speak without holding back.

"Sarabi tribe paid us to destroy the Mirha. They claimed it was for business, but there's definitely more to it. The Sarabians have never been so bold before and have always been cautious with their finances. But this time, they paid us in gold—old coins from the time of the desert sorcerers. It's crazy to think they would spend so much just to eliminate the competition," Hamsha explained, looking at Azar with eyes that asked, "is this enough?"

Azar raised an eyebrow, motioning for the man continue.

Without a choice, Hamsha continued. "From what we knew, the tribes no longer had those types of coins, considering them cursed with dark magic. They haven't been seen in these parts for centuries, but it's not impossible for the Sarabians to have found a buried treasure. The chief said that gold is gold no matter the symbols engraved on it, so he accepted the job. You have to understand, for any tribe, getting their hands on such an amount of gold coins is an opportunity too great to pass up."

Khaleb was furious after hearing Hamsha's explanation, but he had to accept the truth. The tribes weren't wealthy, and after receiving a chance to earn a fortune, few would turn it down.

"So, if someone pays you to kill a friend, you'll just do it?" Azar asked.

"The tribes aren't that friendly. The environment is harsh, the few oases are mostly controlled by the stronger ones, and many tribes train their people to become thieves. They act honestly upfront, but steal behind your back," Hamsha explained.

"That's right," Kaira agreed. "But no tribe has moved to destroy another in the last decades."

"Things change. We have to adapt if we want to survive," Hamsha said.

"Stop with that. The desert is big and rich enough for everyone to have what they need, but only if you have the eyes to see it and the mind to understand how," Azar said, frustrated by how much the world had changed in his absence. "There's something in the distance."

"That's our camp," Khaleb said, urging his horse to go faster.

"How many people have you brought with you, and at what class?" Azar asked Hamsha.

"One hundred and..." He tried to lie but the runic seal engraved in his soul start burning again. "Two hundred eighty. Twenty of which are Bellator Class."

"And how many warriors did you have with you?" Azar asked Kaira.

"I'm not sure, around one hundred sixty, I believe. We were prepared to deal with thieves and beasts, not an ambush from another tribe," she replied.

"Then it shouldn't be a problem," Azar said. "Khaleb, we will stay back. Only Araumir will go!" he shouted.

"What? No. My father could still be alive. I have to go too," Khaleb said.

"When I met you, you were hiding, being chased by ten people. Have you awakened a dormant power in the meantime that will allow you to survive against a hundred people hungry for your head? You're the chief's son, you're a sure target—don't be a foolish one," Azar explained. "We will keep our distance, but don't worry. If your father is alive, Araumir will prioritize his safety."

Khaleb clenched his jaw, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He was hot-blooded, prone to acting on impulse, and making mistakes, but that’s why he needed a father—to teach him how to act, think, and behave like a man.

As the group approached the camp, the thick smell of blood entered their nostrils, carried by the dry wind of death.

"We're close enough," Azar said, bringing his horse to a gradual halt as he could clearly see the sentinels watching them. "You can go," he said to Araumir, giving him a scimitar collected from the dead men in the cave.

"As you wish," Araumir said with a smile.

Moving to accomplish the given task, he urged the horse to increase its speed. A cloud of dust rose in the air behind the galloping horse as Araumir unsheathed the scimitar, clearly stating its murderous intention to the camp's guards.

"Just to be clear, they are not your people, right?" Azar asked Khaleb.

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"No, they are not," Khaleb replied.

"Good, then we can move slowly after Araumir enters the camp," Azar said, unable to sense the presence of the chieftains from such a distance, he was too weak.

"What is Araumir? He's not human, is he?" Khaleb asked.

Azar laughed. "He's more human then most. What made you think he is not?"

"He came out from your altar, and he acts a little strange," Khaleb said. "I just thought he might be something else."

"I came out of stone too, does that makes me something else then a human?" Azar asked, enjoying the moment. "Araumir is a spirit inhabiting a body -like everyone else- that has served me for thousands of years. Apparently, he followed me here after I possessed my old body. He was probably bored waiting for me to create my own world."

"Anyway, in the physical realm, evolution happens at a faster rate, so it's a win for both of us. Alone, I would have had a little problem dealing with all the enemies in my current condition, but luck seems to be on my side. And just to be clear, Araumir is more human than Hamsha is," Azar joked.

Hamsha gave Azar a strange look, but he didn't dare to say something that might ruin the mood of his new master.

The sun itself seemed to turn cold when Araumir's scimitar severed the bodies of the Calabi warriors. The blade he wielded carried the weight of more than just forged iron—the weight of thousands of fights infused into it by Araumir's proficiency. The guards' body parts lay on the sand, their blood boiling upon contact. Their pain dulled, the border separating the living from the dead becoming thinner.

"I see that not everyone has a Neon Reaver?" Azar asked.

"They aren't cheap, so only a few important figures carry them," Khaleb answered.

Not cheap? Azar asked himself, taking out the gun used by Numdul. It didn't feel good in the hand, and was a little caved in on some of the places. If this is not cheap, i don't know what is.

Araumir continued his advance, carried by the galloping horse. Short screams echoed inside the camp, announcing the enemy attack, but all those who came to stop it met their end without a chance of resistance. Without using Ra techniques, treating the battle as an exercise for his stiff body, Araumir jumped off his mount the second he sensed a change in the ground. And how fortunate that decision was, as the sand opened its mouth to swallow the horse in the next moment.

"Surround him!" someone yelled, treating Araumir as a regular person.

Following the command, many warriors gathered to overwhelm the intruder, not knowing that their lack of knowledge was about to lead them to their deaths. Araumir moved swiftly across the battlefield, unaffected by the low-level cultivation of the warriors, untouched by their blades and techniques, and never missing the opportunity to claim their lives.

A few neon pulse shots were heard from the fray, but either they missed Araumir, or he managed to block them.

Azar and his group entered the camp at this moment, the distance was small enough for the little power of his [World Seeing Eye] he could control to locate the main characters responsible for the bloodshed.

"Your father seems to be alive," Azar said. "He and a group of people are protected by a barrier."

"Are you certain?" Kaira asked.

"It must be his artifact. I can't believe it resisted for so long," Khaleb said.

"Hamsha, I took you because you're a sensory-type cultivator," Azar began. "And you didn't even bother to alert me about the enemy's approach? Make yourself useful and deal with them."

Hamsha gritted his teeth. "They are my people. I cannot kill them."

"If you love them so much, then you don't have to kill them. But you must stop them from reaching us and threatening our lives. You can do that of your own free will, or I will order you to kill them," Azar said, unmoved by the old man's feelings.

"...Fine," Hamsha replied, guiding his horse to block the advance of his tribesmen. "Stop right there, or death awaits you," he shouted. "I am being controlled and forced to act against my will. If you attack me and these people, I will have no choice but to kill you." He pulled out his own Neon Reaver Pistol.

"Hamsha, what are you talking about? You were sent to capture Mohul's offspring. Are you betraying the tribe?" shouted a man who halted his horse at a considerable distance, showing his reluctance in fighting the old man.

"As I said, I am acting against my will. I was taken hostage and—" Trying to defy Azar's order forbidding him from sharing what happened, Hamsha felt the devastating pain return, almost making him fall off his horse. "I am forced to obey orders. Don't make things difficult. If you attack, I will have to kill you."

"K-Kill me?" the man asked. "Hamsha, we have orders to capture Mohul's offspring dead or alive. Get out of the way."

"They killed Numdul, idiot. If you think you stand a chance, be my guest. Try your luck with that one; I see our people falling around him." Hamsha pointed at Araumir's fight.

Before the man could reply, the sound of a horn echoed throughout the camp, signaling the retreat of the Calabi tribe. Without wasting another second, everyone dispersed, riding their horses out of the camp in all directions.

'Don't give chase,' Azar sent a telepathic message to Araumir.

"Are you letting them go?" Khaleb asked when he saw that Araumir had no intention to follow the enemy.

"Yes, your father is safe, my new servant here told us what we needed to know. Why would I ruin the element of fear by chasing them? I could send Araumir after their chief, but neither he or I know what the man looks like. Even if Araumir manages to capture him, it would only bring more trouble for us in the near future," Azar explained. "By letting them go, we gain more time to consolidate our strength. They won't attack again without knowing who killed so many of them singlehandedly. And Hamsha just stated that he is controlled; you have to imagine the darkness of mind they are in."

"Right," Khaleb replied, deciding to let things be until he had enough strength to chase the enemies himself.

"Let's go see your father and what's left of your caravan, yes?" Azar said. "Araumir, as always, please collect the loot; there's a bunch on the ground." He threw his ring to his servant.

Although the Calabi had cleared the camp of their presence for some time already, inside the chief's tent, Mohul remained hidden under the protective barrier. The artifact's ability to block sound meant Mohul had used it more for private meetings than for defending his life. Because of this ability, he was unaware of the commotion outside and the retreat of the Calabi tribe.

Unwilling to risk his safety and that of the few remaining people behind him, Mohul decided to wait a little longer before sending someone to check the situation.

"Father?" a sweet, worried voice broke the somber atmosphere as Kaira ran inside the tent.

At the sight of his eldest daughter, Mohul felt relieved and happy, but only for a short moment before relief turned into concern, and happiness into pain.

So they still captured them in the end, he thought.

But as his children ran inside the tent one after another, Mohul was unsure what to believe any longer. Weighting the consequences of opening the barrier inside his head, the chief of the Mirha tribe was startled by a voice.

"Chief, hurry, let them enter the barrier before Surumadur returns," Lamuda, Mohul's right-hand man, advised.

Without waiting another second, Mohul controlled the artifact and lowered the barrier, allowing his kids to jump into his arms.

"Father, how are you?" Kaira asked at the verge of tears. "The camp is filled with the dead bodies of our people."

"Father, the Calabi were forced to retreat. The camp is ours," Khaleb stated, shocking everyone.