Chapter 41

Damian’s lips trembled.

He looked at Zeon and Deioden with an expression of disbelief.

It had taken them barely ten minutes to wipe out all of Elharun’s warriors.

At least Zeon had struggled against Hammerson—but Deioden hadn’t even broken a sweat as he brutally slaughtered the warriors one by one.

His methods were so cruel that even the dwarf warriors and elf rangers he faced had panicked and tried to flee.

But not a single one of them could escape Deioden.

Like crushing ants, he killed them all—one by one.

The elf rangers and dwarf warriors died writhing in agony and overwhelming fear, while Deioden simply laughed as he admired his “work.”

That very sight filled Damian with immense terror.

Only then did he realize just how terrifying the beings were that he and his father had provoked.

“Dad…”

Damian looked down at his father’s body in his arms.

Even in death, Belov’s face still carried the fear and shock he had felt in his final moments.

“I told you not to take their request… What is this? Damn it!”

Damian bit his lip hard.

Tears had already welled up in his eyes.

Not only Belov, but all the awakened of the caravan were either dead or gravely injured.

The caravan that had supported the finances of the Kamchatka Colony had collapsed.

And the fall of the caravan meant the fall of the Kamchatka Colony itself.

“Ha…”

Damian let out a sigh and wiped away his tears.

His chest felt like it was being torn apart, but now was not the time to grieve.

He didn’t even have the right to grieve.

This disaster had happened because of them—he had to take responsibility somehow.

Carefully laying his father’s body down, he walked toward Deioden.

Deioden looked at him with interest.

Dropping to his knees in front of him, Damian spoke.

“I’m sorry. I’ve committed a sin worthy of death.”

“Then you should die.”

“Even so… please forgive me just this once.”

“Forgive you? You insolent little idiot. If you ask for forgiveness, does that mean I have to grant it?”

“I’m not that shameless.”

“Then?”

“I want to make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Don’t you want to know where Elharun is?”

“You know it?”

“Not yet.”

“And you still talk about making a deal? Are you out of your mind?”

“As you know, my ability is that of a navigator. If I set my mind to it, I can find any path.”

“Oh?”

Only then did Deioden show interest.

What a funny kid.

Instead of appealing to emotions, he spoke of the benefits of sparing his life.

For someone who had just lost his father, remaining this rational was no easy feat.

In a way, Damian himself was quite something.

“I will definitely find the path to Elharun. So please, spare me.”

“And why should I trust you? You could be lying.”

“As I said, our caravan is based in the Kamchatka Colony. If I’m lying, you can come find me and kill me anytime.”

Damian lifted his head and looked straight at Deioden.

His face was soaked with tears, but his eyes shone with clarity.

Deioden smirked.

“You’d better keep your promise.”

“I will. Then… I’ll take that as permission to leave.”

Damian bowed deeply and stood up.

As he passed by Zeon, he spoke.

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

“……”

“If you ever need anything, come find me anytime.”

Zeon simply nodded silently.

Deioden had already decided to let Damian go.

It was no longer Zeon’s place to interfere.

In a way, Damian was a pitiful figure.

He had been thoroughly used by Elharun and the Gold Dragon, Hieltun.

In contrast, neither Zeon nor Deioden had suffered any real losses.

In fact, they had lost nothing at all.

Damian, on the other hand, had suffered immense damage.

He had lost his father, and most of his subordinates were dead or injured.

In this state, it was uncertain whether the caravan could ever recover.

Even as a navigator, the desert was not so kind as to allow a young boy to survive easily.

The road Damian would have to walk from now on would be just as harsh and grueling as the one Zeon had walked so far.

“Wait.”

Zeon suddenly called out to him.

“What is it?”

Damian turned back with a puzzled expression.

Zeon pointed at the belongings of the elf rangers and dwarf warriors.

“I’d like to leave handling these to you.”

“Huh?”

“They belong to elves and dwarves, right? If you sell them, they should fetch a good price. Or am I wrong?”

“You’re right. They’re hard to obtain, so they can bring in a lot of profit.”

The mana particle cannons brought by the dwarves were rare items that combined science and magic.

Although they hadn’t worked on Deioden, they could deal heavy damage to other awakened or magical beasts.

The elves’ armor and the humans’ weapons could also be sold for high prices.

“But I don’t have the magic stones to pay for these right now.”

“I’ll collect the payment later.”

“Thank you, hyung!”

Damian didn’t refuse Zeon’s consideration.

The situation was far too dire for pride.

Zeon then said to Deioden,

“Sorry for deciding this on my own without asking you.”

“Hmph! Forget it. They’re useless to me, so do as you please.”

Deioden didn’t even spare a glance at the items scattered across the ground.

Things like this held no meaning for him.

If he had desired wealth and glory, he would have stayed in Neo Seoul and become a man of power.

What mattered was that Zeon had finally awakened to his talent and was using it properly.

At the very least, he was doing more than his share.

At this level, he wouldn’t become a burden at a critical moment.

Deioden lifted his head and looked toward the eastern sky.

It felt like their destination was not far now.

***

Damian loaded the corpses and items like the mana particle cannons onto the caravan and left the Valley of Death.

For him, it was only natural—he wouldn’t want to remain even a moment in the place where he had lost his father and those who were like family.

Zeon understood that feeling.

He would have done the same.

On the other hand, Zeon and Deioden had no reason to rush.

The fact that the other races had tried to block them meant they had already entered the sphere of influence of Hieltun.

It was certain that Hieltun’s lair was somewhere nearby.

From this point on, they had to proceed carefully.

They needed to rest while they could and conserve their strength.

So the two decided to stay in the Valley of Death for a day.

Zeon looked around the valley with a sense of wonder.

Made entirely of sandstone, the Valley of Death possessed a strange, eerie beauty.

If the world hadn’t turned into a desert, he thought many people would have come to see this landscape.

After staring at it for a long time, Zeon suddenly removed his gauntlet.

His wrist had started to itch.

Looking down at it, his eyes lit up.

The third line was glowing.

It was proof that Zeon had reached C-rank.

“C-rank…?”

It didn’t feel real.

It felt like just yesterday that he had awakened as an F-rank, and now he was already C-rank.

If he had still been in Neo Seoul, he would have been jumping with joy.

But after traveling with Deioden for so long, even this achievement didn’t feel that impressive.

And it felt even less so when he thought about the enemies ahead.

His opponent was a dragon.

Even if it possessed only half the power described in legends and myths, it could overturn the world.

Compared to weapons, it was like something beyond nuclear weapons of the past.

The being Deioden intended to fight was that absurdly powerful.

Far beyond what Zeon could even imagine.

To fight such an opponent, Zeon had to grow stronger.

At C-rank, he couldn’t even guarantee survival.

“Ha… I still have a long way to go.”

A sigh escaped his lips.

Even though Deioden saw him like that, he said nothing.

At first, Zeon had followed due to Deioden’s coercion.

But after fighting the awakened of Neo Seoul, he had chosen to continue of his own will.

Which meant everything from now on was Zeon’s responsibility.

Thinking, deciding—those were entirely his burden.

As he put his gauntlet back on, Zeon muttered,

“I need to find a way to become stronger.”

Others might say he was already strong enough, but it wasn’t enough for him.

Zeon’s goal was to surpass Deioden.

He already controlled sand well—but he needed to control it even better.

‘I need a powerful anti-personnel skill. Something that can finish it in a single blow.’

That was something he had realized clearly in his fight with Hammerson.

He needed a decisive, powerful skill for fighting individuals.

Zeon closed his eyes and reviewed his skills.

At best, Sand Blaster and Sand Missile could be considered anti-personnel skills.

Sand Mixer was closer to a wide-area attack and showed great power against monsters.

Sand Soldier was still too weak to be used as a main skill.

‘That leaves… Exion.’

Exion was his trump card.

Its power was overwhelming, but it wasn’t something he could use carelessly in front of others.

A trump card was most effective when kept hidden.

‘Sand lacks cohesion. That’s why Sand Blaster and Sand Missile can’t reach their full potential. I need something stronger… something new.’

He began to think about how to increase their power.

Among his skills, Sand Missile was already stronger than Sand Blaster.

So it made sense to focus on enhancing Sand Missile.

‘I need to compress it more. First, I should change its shape—cut away all unnecessary parts.’

A Sand Missile was about the size of a child’s forearm.

Its shape was similar as well.

At that moment, an image appeared in Zeon’s mind—a steel sphere.

A perfectly round steel ball was a powerful weapon in itself.

What if he abandoned the “missile” form and reshaped it into a sphere?

Not wanting to lose the sudden inspiration, Zeon immersed himself in thought.

Tsssss—

The sand around him began to float.

His concentration alone was moving the sand.

Deioden watched him silently.

He had gone through the same process once.

He had created skills that suited him best with his own hands.

It was difficult and exhausting—but it was because of those struggles that the current Deioden existed.

Those who only followed paths taught by others had clear limits.

Most of the awakened in Neo Seoul who strutted around with arrogance had chosen the easy path.

Deioden did not acknowledge such people.

At the very least, Zeon was walking a different path.

That alone made him worthy of recognition.

Deioden suddenly pulled out Crayon.

Bathed in the firelight, Crayon emitted an even more intense red glow.

Having absorbed the sword of Akaruk, Crayon now radiated an even greater presence.

Thunk!

Deioden stabbed Crayon into the ground.

“My friend.”

—Your heart seems unsettled, my friend.

In that instant, Crayon responded.

No one else could hear it.

It was a voice only Deioden could hear.

Zeon had always thought Deioden was muttering nonsense to himself, but the truth was different.

Tsssss—

In front of Crayon, the figure of a man appeared.

He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties.

Blond hair, blue eyes, and a tall frame—he was a stereotypically handsome Westerner.

Deioden looked at him.

It wasn’t a physical body.

Just a projection—an illusion of how he had looked in life.

A man who had been a kind older brother to his wife.

A good uncle to his daughter.

Deioden’s closest friend.

And the one who had lost everything and became the ego of the sword.

That man… was Crayon.