The winds howled across the desolate desert. The scouting army of the Storm God had gathered at the very edges of this unforgiving terrain, where the dunes met jagged cliffs of the mountain desert beyond.
The desolate desert mixed with heat and magic, but none among the Storm God’s forces dared turn back. Their mission was clear—find Kent, A human from lower realms.
Storm Knight Varos, draped in a long cloak, stood atop a flying boat, addressing the assembly below. His piercing gaze swept across the legions of soldiers, mages, and spirit-beasts awaiting his orders.
“The Desolate Desert is vast and treacherous,” Varos began, his voice amplified by the electric surge of his aura. “No one has ever mapped its entirety. The sands shift with the storms, and the mountain desert bordering it stretches endlessly. But somewhere within this cursed expanse, Kent roams.”
Murmurs rippled through the gathered soldiers, each bearing weapons and talismans imbued with storm essence. Among them stood the elite—the Skybreakers, whose spears crackled with lightning, and the Windcallers, magi who could shape the desert winds.
At the heart of the formation sat the Tempest Guard, the personal warriors of the Storm God, clad in armor as dark as Nimbus-clouds.
Varos descended the boat, holding up a tattered parchment—an incomplete map.
“We will divide into four battalions. Our goal is to scout the outer circles of desolate desert. We must find Kent in any way. But don’t lose yourself in the forest, Understand?”
The generals stepped forward in unison, their ranks saluting the Storm Knight.
While the first batch went inside the desolate desert, others began setting up camps around the desolate desert entrance.
Campfires flickered across the encampment, tents arranged in circular formations like storm patterns.
Meanwhile the name of Kent spread quickly in the spirit world.
The people at each Inn and gathering were discussing the search operation for a human named Kent. Even those unfamiliar with his name now carried etched images of his face on scraps of enchanted paper. Rumors flowed like the wind, growing more elaborate with each retelling.
Kent pictures were pasted outside each Inn all around the spirit world.
“Those soldiers said that the human will become the next demi-god,” one Innkeeper muttered to a passing group.
“Nonsense,” another replied. “How can lower realm idiots reach the demi-god state?.”
“Then why would the Storm God himself issue such an order?” The Innkeeper leaned forward, his voice dropping to a hushed tone.
–
The desolate forest whispered as night fell. Watchfires burned along the outer ridges of the camp, warding away spirit beasts. High above, storm clouds lingered, flashing silently in distant bursts.
Within the pavilion of the Storm Knight, a large map lay unfurled atop a round table. It glowed faintly, enhanced by divination spells. Varos and his generals studied it, tracing possible paths Kent might have taken.
“The Sea of Fallen Pillars,” Drath mused, tapping his staff against the map. “If he seeks refuge, that would be the place. Spirits avoid it, fearing the echoes of battles past.”
Varos nodded. “Send the Windcallers to scout the area. Leave no trace unchecked.”
As Drath departed, General Liren approached the storm knight. “Do you believe the rumors, Varos? That Kent will be the next demi-god?”
Varos’s eyes narrowed, the flickering candlelight reflecting the storm within him. “I do not deal in rumors, Liren. But I know this—the Storm God would not call his armies for a simple man.”
Outside, the winds carried the whispers of Kent’s name, spreading further than any army could march.
–
Desolate Desert…
The sun hung like a molten disc over the desolate desert, its merciless rays cascading over endless dunes that stretched into infinity. Kent wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the parched skin beneath his eyes.
Three days. Three days since they had left the Shrine of Eternal Sands, and the horizon had not shifted an inch. It was as if the world itself conspired to trap them in this barren expanse.
Jean adjusted the cloth wrapped around her head, shielding herself from the sun. “This is madness. We’ve been following the sun’s path since morning, but we’re still circling. I swear we passed that crescent-shaped dune twice already.”
Kent exhaled heavily. “I know. But it’s the only method we’ve got. If we stop now, we’ll lose our bearings completely.”
Gunji Zing kicked at the sand, frustration rippling through her muscles. “There’s got to be something! A sign, a ruin, anything! This place is cursed. Even beasts don’t roam here. What kind of desert doesn’t have at least vultures circling overhead?”
Aran Lam sat cross-legged atop a nearby dune, the half-map to the musical hall spread across his knees. His eyes flicked between the worn parchment and the lifeless horizon. “The map… it’s useless.”
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“Then what’s the point of the damn map?” Gunji snapped, kicking up a small flurry of sand. “We came all this way, risked our lives for nothing?”
Kent placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Enough. Let’s take a break here and think. There has to be something we’re missing.”
The group settled beneath a patch of jagged stone that offered some meager shade. Sparky, the baby dragon curled beside Kent, its iridescent scales dulling in the oppressive heat. Even the usually jubilant beast lay limp, panting heavily.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw anything living,” Aran murmured, folding the map carefully. “It’s unnatural. Not even desert plants or insects.”
Gunji leaned on Kent’s shoulder. “You think we’re trapped in some kind of illusion? A mirage that stretches for days?”
“Possibly. But illusions crack eventually. This hasn’t,” Kent replied. “And if this was magic, Sparky would have sensed it by now.”
The dragon huffed softly at the mention of its name, lifting its head just enough to nuzzle Kent’s hand. The gesture gave Kent a faint smile, but it was fleeting.
Jean rubbed her eyes. “I hate this. We can’t keep walking blindly. We need a plan.”
Kent nodded, staring into the desert. “Rest for tonight. I just thought of an idea. Will tell you in the morning.”
As they don’t have any energy to complain, everyone prepared to rest. Kent took out the manual given By old man Grizzac. He really thought of a wild-idea.