:Dance of Mana in the Desert

"Master, what do you think would happen if I injected my semen into an egg? Would we end up with some kind of hybrid creature?" "I think you should give it a try—but be careful to use only an ounce each time since your supply is limited." "Alright."

After that, Zinarfiel decided that the journey could be made more comfortable if he purchased a horse. He acquired a striking steed that Aryan had chosen—a horse whose legs were as white as snow, while the rest of its body was painted in deep blacks and burnt browns, and whose mane sported a bone-like hue. The price came to about 87 rants, an expense that thoroughly broke Zinarfiel's bank.

Their journey continued as they retraced the route by which they had previously arrived at the capital, and this time they headed toward the city of Iroana. This city, a border town with Silandrin, exuded a decidedly military atmosphere. Dangerous characters—smugglers and slave traders—roamed its streets, making it, by all accounts, an unsuitable place for a young boy. Once famous for its iron mine and once dedicated to supplying war weaponry (though nowadays it mainly produces agricultural implements and the like—implements that, if wielded by the right hands, can be as lethal as a sword), Iroana was not exactly the bustling metropolis of the capital.

"Master, where exactly are we going?" "Well, I'm going to take you to the desert so that we can begin your practical lessons in earnest!" "Oh, this is so cool—at last I'm going to cast offensive spells! By the way, Master, what kind of place is this desert?" "Hmm… It's an enormous wasteland, riddled with traps and teeming with magical creatures. Because of these very traits, the Rank Hunters Organization has classified this desert as high-level and dangerous! But do not fret—I'll be by your side, and we won't venture too deep. Just remember: until your core level reaches purple, you must never brave this desert alone!" "Understood, Master—but one more thing: what exactly is the Hunters Organization?" "Well, it's a collective of wizards and enhancers responsible for hunting down dangerous magical beasts and monsters, and for rating the threat level of different regions. I even spent a short period in that organization myself—and I took your father there when he was just a youngster." "Wow—my father was a hunter as well! Then I'll become one, too; I'm eager to learn more." "Not yet, Aryan. You must first attend school; when you feel strong enough to fight, then you can embark on that journey."

Overcome with curiosity—and thrilled to learn that his father had once been a hunter—Aryan paid little heed to the rest of Zinarfiel's explanations.

The two continued across the lush, green plains, riding their horses as gracefully as a gentle breeze. Finally, after three and a half days of travel, they reached the city of Iroana.

"Master, why is this city so quiet? It's nothing like the capital!" "Perhaps it's because it's a border town—or maybe its inhabitants are just lazy! Either way, stay alert."

Upon arrival, Aryan and Zinarfiel immediately noticed the city's dreary atmosphere. Owing to the nearby mine, Iroana reeked of iron, and its residents were more rugged fighters than simple townsfolk.

Zinarfiel approached a local—one who looked more like a merchant—to inquire about the routes that led to the desert. Having lived for nearly eight years in a cabin in the forest alongside Aryan, the man was not well aware of recent changes. "Master, I must admit, I'm a bit frightened—this fellow is terribly intimidating!" "Don't worry, little one; he's our Guardian, which is why he has such a fearsome look."

Even after the merchant's answer, Aryan could not shake his uneasiness. The Guardian was of vampire lineage—the deep, chasm-like quality of his eyes struck terror into anyone who met his gaze. Observing this, Zinarfiel once more recognized the boy's remarkable instinct.

"Madam, I think you'd do well to take care of your Guardian—he might soon cause you harm!" "Pardon me, madam?" "Look, he's become utterly blood-addicted, if you catch my drift. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're on our way—and thank you for the information!"

Mounting their horses once again, Aryan and Zinarfiel set off. The desert, much farther away than Aryan had ever imagined, would have bored him long ago were it not for the enchanting magical creatures that roamed its fringes—and the magical egg he had purchased.

Approximately two months after their encounter with the merchant, one night as Aryan and Zinarfiel had camped by the roadside for a rest, the sounds of rustling and the movement of unseen creatures enveloped them. "Do not open your eyes until I tell you to, Aryan. Now, get into the tent," Zinarfiel instructed firmly.

After Aryan had retreated inside the tent, Zinarfiel glanced toward the far side of the road and murmured, "It appears that that foolish merchant was even dumber than his words suggested."

Then, from the darkness emerged a figure—the merchant's Guardian! His face now looked more terrifying than ever; his fangs were permanently bared, and his bloodlust had reached its peak. Chunks of flesh still dangled from his maw. When a vampire becomes so blood-addicted, it loses all sense of reason and follows nothing but its raw instinct—to hunt.

"Since you're not going to answer, I'd better wrap this up quickly—I can't bear to keep my boy waiting," the Guardian snarled.

In an instant, Zinarfiel launched a swift attack, but the Guardian seemed to vanish—his speed increasing to a frenzied pace under the light of the full moon that bathed the plain. At that moment, Zinarfiel felt a prickling sensation around his neck and quickly shifted to avoid the monster's fangs from latching onto his skin. Yet, a kick—hurled with force by the Guardian—struck him squarely, sending him reeling backward.

"Well, well—it seems I've gotten a bit older; my bodily strength and physics just aren't what they once were," Zinarfiel grumbled.

Changing tactics, he invoked his earth magic to increase the gravitational force in a one-meter radius around him, causing the Guardian's bones to shatter as he stepped into the field of magic. With a swift movement, Zinarfiel seized the Guardian by his hair and lifted him from the ground. Though the Guardian struggled fiercely, Zinarfiel's power was unmatched. In a calm yet icy tone, he declared, "Alright then—it's time to finish this." With a resounding, forceful kick, the sound of the Guardian's skull shattering echoed across the night.

For a moment, Zinarfiel regarded the lifeless body, then let out a bitter laugh: "It's been ages since I last got to hunt a bloodsucker." He made his way over to Aryan's tent. Casting his gaze upon Aryan's peaceful, sleeping face, a gentle smile graced his lips. "My dear Aryan, are you awake? … Hmm, it seems you've fallen asleep."

Settling down on the ground, Zinarfiel gazed at the starry sky and murmured under his breath, "By the way, let me not forget… Tomorrow is your eighth birthday. I must make preparations for you."

The next day, with bleary, half-asleep eyes, Aryan awoke and began scratching himself, searching for Zinarfiel—but his master was nowhere to be seen. Determined to find him, Aryan stepped out of the tent. "Hmm… doesn't that smell like chocolate? Master—where are you? Hello?" "What's with all this yelling at the crack of dawn, kid? Yes, I'm old, but my hearing still works far better than yours!" came the reply. "Ah, Master, where have you been? And what's that in your hand?" "Well, what do you know? This is your birthday present, boy. Today you turn eight, and it's high time you set out on your own path—I'm tired of all this! … Don't laugh, kid; you're really exhausting me. Grab your gift, and I'll go gather our supplies. Then we'll be on our way." "Alright, Master—but aside from you, I don't know any elder! … Okay, Dad, why are you teasing me… Let's see what the gift is!"

Bursting with excitement, Aryan unwrapped his present. Inside the small box lay a pair of black gloves—reminiscent of something emerging from the depths of the darkest chasm, albeit a bit worn, a clear testament to the many battles fought. "Master, you retrieved this from your stash, didn't you?" "Yes—but note that it belonged to your father. Like you, he was an enhancer. With these very gloves, he once removed Tarentis' heart right from his body." "Tarentis? You mean that rare creature mentioned in the book—a being with six legs and a bizarre body, its lower half resembling a scorpion and its upper half somewhat akin to a human (not exactly human, but in a way…)? Thank you so much, Master; I'll treasure this forever!" "Indeed. Now hurry and prepare yourself—we must swiftly make our way into the desert." "Yes, Master."A

ryan and Zinarfiel resumed their journey. Along the way, Aryan busied himself with the gloves he had received as a gift and with injecting his mana into the magical egg he'd brought from Kalostia. During their travels, they observed many curious creatures—such as a long-tailed gecko and a desert cat—that seemed to spend most of their lives near this barren land.

About a month later, they arrived at the Amorna Desert, also known as the Endless Desert or the Desert of the Lovers of Death. Over the course of that month, Zinarfiel explained much about the history of this desert to Aryan. "Look, Aryan, despite its unassuming appearance, Amorna is dangerous. In fact, it acts like a virus—constantly growing and expanding. The desert has a living essence, so be cautious. Many battles have been fought here—for example, there was once a duel between two enamored elves fighting over a girl, a battle that was renowned for its heart-felt intensity. That's why they also call it the Desert of the Lovers of Death."

"Wow, Master, this place is incredible! The sands are even more golden than gold. Look at that gecko! I'm telling you, Master, where's the danger? It looks more like an ideal destination for scientific expeditions and adventure. For instance, have you noticed how at sunset the sun's path almost seems to cling to the desert, creating a perfectly flat expanse?"

"True enough—it's breathtaking, yet utterly deceptive. At first it seduces its visitors, drawing them in, and then tests their worth. If a person has a stable spirit and a strong purpose, the desert spares them. But if not, it drains and withers them away."

"Wow, that's so strange! So… what do you say, shall we head back? We had fun, and we've seen the desert already!"

At that moment, upon learning the true nature of the desert, Aryan broke into a run. But Zinarfiel formed a gust of wind beneath him, lifting him off his feet—and then flung him deep into the desert.

"Hey, kid, here's your first test. When you have no purpose, you must create one. I'm right behind you, but try your best to stay alive!"

With eyes bulging from his sockets, Aryan fixed a devilish grin on Zinarfiel and silently hurled thousands of curses at him before finally accepting his fate. After being thrown onto the sands, he lay there for a few moments, gazing up at the blue sky.

"Hmm… It's so warm and soft here—perfect for a nap. But… where is that Master, huh? Master! Master! It seems that everywhere I look there's nothing but sand. When did I ever decide to come to the heart of the desert?"

Thus began Aryan's trial. The desert had absorbed him and was scrutinizing him. Hours passed, yet he remained seated on the same spot, staring at the ground. The sound of the wind and the shifting sands had grown ominous, and as the sky darkened and the sun's glow faded rapidly, Aryan began to panic.

"…I—I'm scared. Why isn't anyone here? Master… Master… The air is so cold and dark… Master!"

Time and again he called out for Zinarfiel, but there was no reply. The darkness in the desert deepened steadily—the far edge of the dunes now resembled black tar, as deep and endless as the abyss of the Talaris Ocean.

After a short while, something began to tremble in Aryan's pocket. At first it terrified him, but he soon realized the quivering belonged to the magical egg he'd taken from the Capital. Initially, the egg shimmered in a metallic black, yet its darkness exceeded even that of the surrounding sands. It kept shaking—almost as if it were reacting to the desert or to Aryan's unease.

"Don't worry, Dad, I'm here…"

"Whaaaa!! Who is this, Dad? Who is it—is that a voice in my head?"

"Why are you yelling, Dad? It's me—the egg, or rather, the creature within it—please, I…"

"Hey, why did you go silent, kid? Do eggs even talk?! …Enough fooling around; I'd better go find this damned test—but how?"

After about three hours of tears and whining, Aryan finally decided he had to face the test, even though he still didn't know what kind of test it would be. He continued his solitary walk through the desert, day after day. There was no sign of Zinarfiel, no hint of the promised test—only the black egg, clutched close to him, growing larger with each passing day, as if nourished by the very life of this arid place.

In a distant, disembodied voice, someone mused: "This foolish kid—who would have thought he'd venture so far? By God, he's my very student, yet it's odd: this is the first time I've seen the desert treat someone with such care. Even Atrios—if he were here—would have only encountered mirages and those geckos. And that egg itself! How bizarre—it's steadily absorbing Aryan's mana and expanding, its color deepening from black to an even darker shade!"

The continuous sound of shifting sands and whistling winds, along with the weight of the egg, wore Aryan down both physically and mentally. The scorching heat of the desert grew ever more intense, fraying his nerves.

"Why won't this cursed test reveal itself? My dear egg, why don't you conserve some mana for me? If the environmental mana concentration weren't so overwhelming, I'd have died a hundred times over from its shortage… It's been days now—where is Zinarfiel? I'd better get some sleep."

Overwhelmed by exhaustion from a week of relentless walking—and despite his fear of the unyielding desert—Aryan finally closed his eyes and sank into a slumber deep enough to be called the sleep of the Seven Kings.

The incessant rustling of compacting sands by his ear tickled his mind, rousing him from his sleep. When his drowsy eyes opened, he saw a black creature standing directly above him. Terrified, he reacted instantly: drawing upon the mana-transfer technique Zinarfiel had taught him during their journey, he summoned a flow of mana beneath himself and harnessed the power of the wind element to put distance between himself and the being.

"Oh my God, what is that?! I was lucky to have slept just a few hours—otherwise I almost died! Hey, why are you looking at me like that? Why the cocked head, you black dog?! Wait—let me see… isn't that egg's skin over there? Ah, no way!!"

"Indeed, Dad—it is my egg, but I'm no dog!"

At last, the creature within the egg emerged fully and began communicating with Aryan telepathically.

"Really? You emerged from that egg? And how can you speak directly into my mind? But you're… beautiful. You're not frightening at all; in fact, those big, adorable eyes of yours are irresistible! And why do you call me 'Dad'?"

"I'm not entirely sure why, but ever since you transferred your mana into the egg, I felt the warmth of your mana drawing me in. Your mana is remarkably gentle—even unlike the harsh energies around—and it was the first time I managed to connect with someone from within. So, you are my Dad! As for what I am… I'm not exactly certain, but I suspect I'm more like a wolf than a dog."

"Very well. Yet it's obvious that you're just as alone as I am—a being who doesn't truly know who or what he is. I was raised by a great dragon, though I belong to a different race entirely. You, on the other hand, were born in the heart of the desert—devoid of any parental guidance—so whether you're a dog or a wolf (though I suspect more the former), it doesn't matter. I'll raise you!"

For a long time, Aryan and the newly emerged creature engaged in warm conversation. After several days, Aryan finally shook off his loneliness and even managed to smile. Through his own insight, coupled with the creature's explanations, he realized that his new companion was nothing more than a wolf.

"Alright then—now that I know what you are, and since you call me 'Dad,' let's give you a name. Hmm… let me think. Your fur is so black that without the metallic glimmer in your eyes, you'd be invisible in the dark. And, since you're a wolf, I'll call you 'Shadolf'—a blend of shadow and wolf. How does that sound?"

"Any name that you, Dad, bestow upon me, I accept!"

"Excellent. Come on, Shadolf—let's get out of this miserable desert and track down that wretched Zinarfiel!"

Thus, Aryan and Shadolf set off together through the desert. As they advanced, the character of the desert gradually shifted; more mirages appeared—especially as Aryan's water supply dwindled. Meanwhile, high in the sky, Zinarfiel observed Aryan, employing his dragon powers—the very privilege reserved for dragons, the only race in this world granted the ability to fly.