Round Four: Desert Journey

Forty-Seven grasped the hilt of the sword protruding from the bundle, twisted his wrist, and the seemingly thick felt emitted a low tearing sound as it instantly shattered into pieces that scattered from the sword’s blade.
It was a two-handed greatsword. Although Forty-Seven had hardly ever used a regular longsword, even those paled in comparison to this one—this sword was nearly seven feet long, almost as tall as a person. The black hilt was about one-third the length of the blade, clearly divided into two sections for two-handed grip by an oval-shaped ridge. The weight balls carved in the shape of skulls and the crescent-shaped guards were exquisitely detailed and luxurious. At the front was a bladeless section, with a pair of protruding crescent-shaped knives at the tip, likely serving as an additional layer of protection and for cutting or splitting the enemy’s weapons. From the small blades to the tip, the blade was forged like a saw, with sharp serrations all over it—probably these serrations had sliced through the felt wrapping it.
Forty-Seven tried swinging the sword in his hand. It felt smooth to wield, with a well-balanced center of gravity. It was clear that the hilt and blade were integrated, allowing power to transfer seamlessly, making the greatsword tremble slightly as if it had a life of its own… It should last a long time, Forty-Seven thought.
“This is a military two-handed greatsword used by the Ice Wind Knights, who fight monsters in the frozen glaciers of the north all year round. It’s completely different from those simplified, reduced versions of two-handed swords used by adventurers and mercenary groups. It was crafted by dwarves using various unique northern metals and their distinctive techniques—exquisitely fine, of unquestionable quality. With enough strength, it could even split a frost giant in two!” Freys said excitedly. “Such weapons almost never end up in the hands of anyone other than the Ice Wind Knights. I really had to work hard to trick and persuade a drunk dwarf blacksmith into giving it to me. I originally planned to sell it to a collector in the south, but now I think it might be more suitable for you to use. I hope you’ll be satisfied…”
Forty-Seven planted the sword in the ground and looked at Freys.
“Are you trying to make me forget that they hurt me?”
The wound on his waist still hurt… and burned.
Freys continued smiling. “What are you saying… I really just happened to pass by those two holy warriors. Their minds are as simple as those of sand lizards—this is right, that’s wrong. These days, they’ve really given me a headache… If you dislike them, I completely understand. I won’t try to act as a mediator either. But I just think the Desert of Noise isn’t a suitable place for a battle—there are too many uncertainties here. And please understand me too—they’re ostensibly part of my team. If such a conflict occurs…”

It will damage my business reputation and interests—Fres left his sentence unfinished. If two holy warriors and a half-Purgatory creature started fighting, should he side with the holy warriors? From what he’d seen earlier, even if dozens of people from the caravan were thrown into the fight, it might not be enough. If he didn’t help either side? No matter who won, once word got out, he’d likely be despised by those organizations and forces that upheld justice, making it much harder to get their help in the future. Help the half-Purgatory creature fight the holy warriors? Good heavens, that would be no different from donating all his wealth to a cult that worshipped demons and held live sacrifices in ruined dens!

It was better to keep things calm. Hopefully, this guy was as sensible as he seemed…

Forty-Seven grinned, a smile that made Fres’s own look stiff. Forty-Seven’s normally decent mouth split from the corners to his cheeks, almost reaching his ears. He also lowered his voice: “Alright, for the sake of this sword… but I’ll follow you until we leave the desert.”

Don’t mind me! Fres’s lips moved, speechless for the first time. Set off with two holy warriors and a half-Purgatory creature? Either those two holy warriors were impostors, or heaven and hell had swapped names—And now? Fres was sure they’d start fighting again within a hundred steps!

“Well…” Fres tried to find the right words, but Forty-Seven’s next words relieved him: “I won’t join your group. I’ll follow behind you and let you lead the way… You can pretend you don’t know. Don’t give me trouble, and I won’t give you trouble.”

“No problem, no problem!” Fres raised his voice so others could hear clearly, “So are you leaving now? Alright, good luck on your journey!”

Only after Forty-Seven turned and left did the two holy warriors breathe a sigh of relief. To be honest, they weren’t sure they could stop him if that half-Purgatory creature went berserk.

Josen asked Fres politely but distantly what he had said to persuade that half-Purgatory traveler to leave. Milia ignored Fres completely.

“Sigh, what can I say? At least that guy just wanted to go to Agus and wasn’t interested in my small caravan…” Fres patted the camel-like beast hard, while the beast lazily curled its long nose as if unfeeling anything. “You have to understand, I’m just an honest businessman…”

Honest businessman? Josen nodded reluctantly.

The caravan continued onward in the desert. The weather was unbelievably good—two suns competed to emit scorching heat, seemingly trying to burn everything on the ground. But without sandstorm clouds, wasn’t it still good weather?

“We should track down that evil creature…” Milia rode on her horse, walking at the back of the group with Josen.

“Calm down, Milia.” Josen looked at Fres, who was sitting on the camel-like beast ahead. His short, chubby figure seemed like a hump grown on the beast. “Fres’s approach makes sense. Rushing into a conflict with that half-Purgatory creature might endanger the entire caravan. Besides, it’s unrealistic for us to leave the caravan now and search for him in the desert…”

“But—” Milia’s already pale face turned even whiter from excitement. “Allowing evil to go unchecked means participating in it! Other caravans might be threatened because of him, and what if he’s actually a demon spy, acting as a precursor to their sinister plans—”
“No, it’s not that serious. Since he dared to appear in front of the caravan without attacking, it’s likely he’s just asking for directions. Since our goal is also Agus, we still have a chance. And once we’re in Agus, we’ll have more support to deal with him…”
Milia fell silent. She tightened her grip on the horse’s flanks, and her pony, whom she called “Ice and Snow,” a pure-white mare without a single speck of hair, snorted and trotted forward.
Josen sighed slightly. Though the Divine Knight possessed genius-level abilities, they often acted like children at the beginning of their trials.
The caravan traveled for nearly ten more days—faster than expected—seemingly approaching the edge of the Desert of Noise.
Fres’s mood was as good as the weather. Although that terrifying creature was probably still far behind the caravan, the sentries tasked with scouting hadn’t found any trace of it in days, unsure of how it managed to hide itself. But that wasn’t his concern. Leaning against the largest hump on the back of the camel-like beast pulling the two cargo carts, Fres swayed side to side as the beast moved forward and backward with its limbs on the same side. He watched the setting sun with satisfaction, feeling a rare sense of contentment. Once this cargo reached its destination, the profits would be astonishing—war was always a good opportunity to make money. He grabbed his water bag and gulped down several mouthfuls, even burping in relief.
The two holy knights had also become much more subdued, which put Fres at ease. Especially the young female holy knight—she had been quietly traveling, practicing swordsmanship, praying, and resting these days, speaking very little. Yet precisely because of this, it piqued the interest and conversation among the mercenaries under his command. Fortunately, there were no outrageous remarks or actions. After all, as long as someone wasn’t extremely vicious, they generally showed respect for holy knights, at least on the surface.
If everything continued smoothly, they would soon exit the desert and enter the Golden Trade Route between the Desolate Wasteland and the Sleeping Forest. But smoothness could vanish at any moment, even when reaching the edge of the desert…