The bustling entrance to the Desolate Desert was alive with voices shouting, arguing, and planning. Adventurers of all kinds—mercenaries, treasure hunters, and mages—were assembling in groups, shouting for others to join them.”Form a group with us! We’re heading deep into the dunes!”
“We need a water mage to survive the blazing heat—any takers?”
Others approached Kent directly. A burly warrior, his armor glinting in the sun, stepped into Kent’s path. “Hey, stranger. You’ve got the look of someone capable. Join our group. We’re after the treasures buried in the sand- treasures, relics, maybe even loads of soju!”
Kent didn’t even bother to respond, simply walking past the man with a shake of his head.
He wasn’t here for treasure. While the groups around him were motivated by greed and ambition, Kent had a singular goal: the Shrine of Eternal Sands. Ignira’s words had brought him this far, but the shrine’s location remained a mystery, even among the seasoned adventurers gathered here.
He moved through the stalls and groups, keeping his ears open. He overheard snippets of conversation.
“I heard the shrine lies beneath the southern dunes!”
“Fool, the shrine moves every day—it’s impossible to pinpoint!”
“They say the God Race sealed it off, only allowing their kin to enter. Waste of time for the likes of us.”
Kent frowned. The more he listened, the more it became clear—nobody knew anything for certain. They were all chasing rumors.
But then, something caught his eye.
In a quiet corner near the edge of the desert, an old man sat cross-legged in silence. His long gray beard swayed slightly in the warm breeze, and a tattered cloak covered his thin frame. Before him was a simple wooden board with crude writing that read:
“I know the path to the Shrine of Eternal Sands.”
Kent stopped at a distance, narrowing his eyes. The old man was calm, detached, and unlike the frantic crowds around him. Was he a fraud, preying on the desperate?
Kent leaned against a nearby post, observing him carefully. Several young adventurers approached the man one by one.
A tall mage with glowing runes etched on his arms walked up first. “Old man, you claim to know the way. Tell me, and I’ll reward you handsomely.”
The old man opened one eye, his expression unreadable. “Stretch out your hand.”
The mage hesitated but complied. The old man pulled out a pouch of fine white powder and sprinkled it over the mage’s open palm. Within seconds, the mage’s hand turned bright red.
The old man snorted dismissively. “Not worthy. You won’t make it past the first dune.”
“What?! What nonsense is this?” the mage barked. “You’re a fraud!”
But the old man waved him off as if swatting away a fly. “Leave.”
Another group of adventurers approached, this time led by a sword-wielding woman with a piercing gaze. She stretched out her hand without a word. The old man repeated the test, sprinkling powder over her palm. Once again, her hand turned red.
“Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of,” the old man said bluntly.
Furious, the woman spat at the ground and stomped away.
Kent watched this unfold with growing curiosity. What was this powder? And why did the old man reject everyone?
Their eyes met briefly, but the old man didn’t acknowledge Kent beyond a passing glance. It wasn’t until the crowd had thinned that Kent finally stepped forward.
The old man looked up as Kent approached, his weary eyes scanning him carefully. “Another one, eh? Well, let’s get this over with.” He motioned lazily. “Stretch out your hand.”
Kent didn’t hesitate. He extended his hand, palm up, with an expression of mild curiosity.
The old man sprinkled the powder onto Kent’s hand, and the reaction was immediate. Instead of turning red like the others, Kent’s hand began to glow a brilliant gold, the light illuminating the old man’s wrinkled face.
The old man’s jaw dropped. “By the gods…” He leaned closer, his gnarled fingers trembling as he touched Kent’s hand. “Golden light…! Hahaha!”
He threw his head back, his laugh echoing through the desert. “I’ve waited years for this! The god race! The Shrine will open for you!”
Kent raised an eyebrow. “You’re making quite the fuss. Care to explain?”
The old man composed himself, though his eyes were alight with excitement. “Young man, this is no ordinary shrine. It was built by the God Race themselves, and only those with a trace of divine connection can enter. That gold on your hand—it’s proof. Proof that the shrine will recognize you as worthy and will let you inside.”
Kent regarded the old man coolly. “That’s all very interesting. But let’s get to the point—do you actually know the shrine’s location?”
The old man nodded eagerly. “I do. The shrine’s location shifts daily, but I’ve tracked its movements for years. I can guide you to it.”
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“And why would you do that?” Kent asked, his voice calm but laced with suspicion.
The old man grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “Simple. I want half the treasures you find inside. You see, I’m a dwarf demon with a filthy bloodline—cursed to be forever barred from sacred places. But you… you can enter. You can take the risks. I’ll guide you there, and in return, you give me half of what you find. A fair deal, don’t you think?”
Kent narrowed his eyes. “And how do I know I can trust you?”
The old man shrugged. “You don’t. But consider this—without me, you’ll wander these dunes for months, chasing false leads. With me, you’ll find the shrine within a day.”
Kent stared at him for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But if you betray me, I’ll bury you in this desert.”
The old man chuckled. “Fair enough. Now, swear it—on your life.”
Kent sighed but extended his hand again. “I swear. Half the treasures are yours. Except for things which can’t be decided.”
The old man clapped his hands together, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Excellent! Now, let’s not waste time. Follow me. The shrine moves at every dawn, and we need to reach its location before it moves too far away..”
As they walked into the desert, Kent kept a close eye on the old man. The dwarf demon’s enthusiasm was almost infectious, but Kent wasn’t about to lower his guard.
“So,” Kent said after a while, “what’s your name?”
“Names are meaningless,” the old man replied. “But you can call me Grizzak.”
“Alright, Grizzak. What’s in this shrine that’s worth all this trouble?”
Grizzak’s eyes gleamed. “Artifacts of unimaginable power. Soju of the highest purity. And the Heart of Eternity—a relic said to grant its wielder mastery over time itself.”
Kent raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.”
Grizzak cackled. “Oh, it’ll be trouble, alright. But for someone like you—someone with a connection to the gods—it’s a chance to ascend beyond the Spirit World itself.”
Kent said nothing, his mind already calculating the risks.
As the dunes stretched endlessly before them, the old-man moved, guiding Kent toward the shifting location of the Shrine of Eternal Sands.
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