Round 1: The Great Desert

The vast desert, with its air distorted by the scorching heat, made the ground appear to tremble violently. In the distance, the jagged peaks and deserts resembled curved horns, giving them a sense of movement and unreality. Occasionally, skeletons and rocks could be seen buried in the sand, from which small lizards might emerge, or half-buried dead trees lay there for those lizards that hadn’t found better spots to dig holes. Why were there always half-buried pieces of wood in the desert? That was another mystery—let it be for now.

It was the hottest time of day, with the two suns, known to the locals as the Great Khan and the Small Khan, hanging in the sky very close to each other. Yet, instead of the usual solar eclipse where one sun obscured the other, their intense rays intertwined and cast unrestrained light across this endless desert.

This spectacular sight of two suns shining together was unique to the Desert of Roar. No other known place in the world had two suns burning down the land simultaneously for such long periods. Otherwise, the Glory Lord and his daughter would not have been widely worshipped by those who believed in light—everything, after all, must be in balance.

Some ancient texts claimed that the Desert of Roar, along with the Shattered Glaciers and the Eternal Dark Sea, were the result of wars among gods in mythic times. The reason for the two suns shining here was that the Glory Lord was eternally watching over an almost equally powerful evil god who had been killed in war and buried in the Desert of Roar. Yet, even the most learned and wise could not prove or confirm this.

One thing was certain: this vast desert that spanned the entire northern part of the world was extremely desolate, mysterious, and dangerous—even surpassing many lower planes. Various vicious creatures were merely a minor issue; the most common and terrifying phenomenon here were the unpredictable sandstorms. Supernatural winds would lift trillions of pounds of sand and dust, blocking out the light of the two suns, moving it from one place to another, and engulfing everything. There was no way to stop them—this was why many oases and towns disappeared overnight.

Yet today, fortunately, the weather was good.

A hand lifted a flat stone. The hand was long and strong, with defined edges, showing a dull metallic color tinged with a deep red almost black. Its structure resembled that of a human or most humanoid beings, but the dense, armor-like skin and joints on the back of the hand clearly indicated characteristics similar to those of insectoid arthropods.

The owner of the hand effortlessly turned over a stone the size of a table—a small grayish-black scorpion emerged from the sand and scurried away quickly, not only out of fear but also because exposure to the intense sunlight would cause it to lose its hard-earned water.

But the poor scorpion couldn’t escape far. The hand caught it easily. Despite its agility and speed, it was grabbed in an instant, as simply as picking up a handful of sand from the ground.

The little scorpion writhed and struggled, bending its venomous stinger to attack. Its venom could easily kill creatures much larger than it, or at least cause them to convulse and go numb, but this time it couldn’t even pierce the other’s skin.
That hand pushed the prey into its mouth, hidden in the shadow of the hood, with only a tail sticking out. With a faint crackling sound, a faint smell of burning filled the air.
Forty-seven enjoyed the sensation of his teeth crushing the scorpion’s body, feeling it burn and turn to ashes in his mouth.
It wasn’t because of any change in his physique that he now needed to eat—just a habit left over from his bloody battles. He had been wandering in this desert for days, not counting the time spent digging holes. The portal opened by the demon indeed had taken him away from the abyss, but the exit led to this desolate place where nothing lived—no birds, no rabbits, no animals at all—surrounded by hundreds of feet of rock and sand!
Now, Forty-seven hoped to find someone who could speak and ask if they knew Rain City or the Agus Empire. Ideally, the answer would be yes… What if this was just some strange desert world?
Still, the two suns in the sky gave him a sense of comfort—Rain City also had two suns, though they almost never appeared at the same time.
Through experimentation, Forty-seven found that the wings on his back could only glide with the wind, couldn’t fly very high, and had poor maneuverability. But for a body made of steel, it was quite good—though the idea of flying out of the desert was unfeasible.
Forty-seven spat out the remnants in his mouth; the heat caused a small patch of sand to solidify.
The sunlight seemed to dim slightly.
Looking up, a layer of grayish-yellow clouds spread across the horizon. Forty-seven knew they weren’t clouds but massive amounts of sand and dust being blown around and falling by high-altitude hurricanes. He had already witnessed the terrifying power of these sudden and fleeting sandstorms. He unfolded the canvas cloak wrapped around his body—found after one such storm—and a two-handed sword. Everything else was buried under the suddenly appearing sand dunes. That must have been the closest Forty-seven had gotten to someone who could speak, only a few dozen feet away—but he didn’t think there was any chance of communication after digging them out.
His huge wing membranes unfurled behind him, allowing him to float with the wind. Rising higher would make things easier—once he entered the range of those high-altitude hurricanes, with their unimaginably strong winds. Forty-seven controlled his wings to glide along the edge of the stormy sand clouds. He had entered the storm’s center twice before; the sand and stones were like bullets, and it felt awful to be hit by them.
He hoped to get further this time, he thought as he flew.
Freshe twitched his bulbous nose, sniffing hard, then climbed back to the ground to listen carefully.

Then he ordered the caravan to rest on the spot. Sandstorm clouds appeared in the vicinity, drifting erratically. Based on his experience, it was safe to stay here and wait for the clouds to pass—but wandering around recklessly was not so safe.
The men shouted at the bulky camels, ordering them to lie down. They unloaded canvas and wooden frames from the trucks to set up tents. Well-equipped guards scattered across the slightly higher dunes to serve as sentinels, watching out for any unwelcome visitors.
Fres smiled in satisfaction as he watched his men work in an orderly and efficient manner. He picked up his water pouch and took a large gulp. The water mixed with honey was cool and refreshing, allowing Fres to take a deep breath and feel that even the scorching heat of two days wasn’t so unbearable.
Fres’s water pouch was truly remarkable—it could hold far more water than it appeared, and even more astonishingly, the water inside never spoiled, remaining always cool and crisp. Fres had paid a thousand gold coins and several chests of high-quality weapons for this magical pouch, but ever since using it, he hadn’t spent a single day not thinking he had gotten a great deal. It was a true pleasure to avoid the hot, oily, sticky water from pouches made from camel stomachs!
“Mr. Fres, how long will we stay here?”
A young warrior approached Fres, giving him a slight bow. His demeanor was solemn, serious, and impeccable.
He had a handsome face, his golden hair somewhat messy from the desert journey, but the sun disc emblem on his sword, shield, and leather armor was spotless and gleaming.
Fres also straightened up, influenced by him. “Oh, Mr. Josen, it depends—but I estimate it will be until dark, as we can’t risk moving within the range of the sandstorm clouds. Not only are there risks of being buried, but we might also get lost in the ever-changing desert. We have to wait until the storm subsides.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fres,” Josen nodded in understanding before turning to walk back with his companions.
A rigid holy knight. Fres smirked at Josen’s retreating figure, disapprovingly.