Through the dark sand-covered streets, Snake walked toward the castle. In his hands, he held a logbook, reading with a low voice:
"To think is not to exist. To think is merely to try to exist. If someone only thinks, then they remain unnoticed by the world—unless they choose to speak, to spread their voice. However, an act even nobler than speaking is the noblest of all: to devour, as devouring—"
At that moment, Snake closed the book thinking to himself:
That fatso don't make sense sometimes… but I can see what he means, although I disagree. I think he could explore a little more the depth about other acts before comparing them to devouring…
I mean, "devouring" is the noblest act? There are so many things nobler than that, such as creating a family or a business... like a restaurant, which can help people to accomplish this so-called noble act of devouring, if we take it literally… If he expanded more on the comparisons before going directly into the topic it would add all subtly he need.
Well, he improved quite a lot too, is lady helping him to write? No… she isn't really fond of writing, it's probably the young one, he should be the one helping… it's somewhat working, this one is much better than his last attempt at a book.
Snake came to a stop as not far ahead stood the castle walls, towering structures easily more than twenty meters high. At their center loomed a massive gate of onyx-colored metal, firmly shut.
Along the top of the walls, guards patrolled—each clad in full armor, their heads encased in those same bucket-like helmets.
The entrance was heavily fortified—breaking in would be no easy task. Still, with a calm, unreadable expression, Snake turned away and headed back toward the city's central district, passing not too far from the sobbing statue.
It's not time yet, he thought, stopping in front of a house.
He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again—still nothing. He moved on to another house, and another, but each time received only silence.
"Well, what can I do," he muttered softly, scratching his head.
Eventually, he sat down near a beggar in the streets. The man glanced at him, then quickly got up and shuffled away.
"…"
Snake sighed, but didn't care much.
It was rare for the people of this city to interact with outsiders. In fact, Snake hadn't spoken to a single native since he'd arrived and he couldn't even if he tried, since they spoke a different language.
******
In another part of the sandstone city, the scarlet moonlight filtered through the windows of a dimly lit house.
The room was mostly empty, save for one person, a woman.
Even with a nearly white-blonde hair and pale skin, what actually stood out most were her eyes which were an unfathomably deep shade of blue.
Maya sat on the ground, her mind racing with thought.
She had reached the eighth trial with ease, but unlike the seventh—which had simply been "Reach the Grand Desert City"—this one was cryptic, its meaning confusing and interpretative, "Find the progenitor."
It made little sense to her. Yet, for the moment, that wasn't her priority.
She was expecting someone… someone she had unexpectedly met earlier during her seventh trial.
"I know you're there, Moon," she said calmly.
Her voice echoed in the empty room, just as a figure stepped from the shadows behind her, wearing a smile.
Moon had long, pale-blonde hair and the same ghostly complexion. Her eyes, too, were a deep blue. An elder member of Maya's family, the Galeborn… and also her older cousin. Although, Moon had chosen a different path from most of their family.
Unlike Maya and most of her kin, who had inherited a gift for mana, Moon had walked the path of aura. It showed in her powerful frame, which was muscular, curvaceous, and marked with old battle scars. The combat straps across her busty chest and the loose pants at her hips left little doubt about the life she'd lived until now.
At her waist hung a pair of knuckledusters made of white metal, faintly glowing with cold energy.
She approached Maya, smiling.
"Hello… my junior!" she said in a mock-serious tone.
Maya didn't respond.
Moon burst into laughter. "Hahaha… Your sense of humor really is broken, isn't it, Maya? Not even a smile? I was trying to imitate—"
"It was Grandfather. I know," Maya interrupted, her voice cold and flat. Then she added, "If you're done playing around, I need assistance with the eighth trial. Since you're still here, even though you entered much earlier than me, I assume you could use my help too."
"Alright, I accept your offer!" Moon declared as she pulled Maya into a tight hug, pressing her against her ample chest. "And you may accept my help, junior!"
She broke into laughter again.
Maya remained silent, her face unreadable.
******
In the sandstone city, down a narrow alley, a crowd had gathered, their voices raised as they screamed for justice in a weird language.
Atop a small sandstone platform stood a tall, blonde man. His skin was pale, his frame slender and delicate, almost feminine. This was Cloud, who, somehow, had managed to learn the native language and connect deeply with these people. He spoke with strange words, but in a firm, commanding tone:
"You have endured the weight of injustice for far too long. Now, let the embers of revolt be stoked into flame! Shall we continue to bow to kings who rule for naught but their own indulgence? No! If the guards draw their blades to slay the meek, then guards they are no more but butchers draped in iron!"
He raised his arm toward the blood-red moon above, his piercing blue eyes glowing with conviction and something else, as a cold smile curled on his lips.
"We shall cast down the usurper throne when the time comes. Gather your strength… your kin, your steel, your fury! For justice does not descend from the heavens freely, it must be seized by the people with blood and iron!
As his voice rang through the alley, the crowd erupted in cries of ambition and hope, hungry for the end of the king's rule.
******
Somewhere in the desert, illuminated by the red moonlight, the pitch-black fog had long since dissipated.
Rho moved forward, heading toward the Grand Desert City. His towering white body was marked with deep scars, the moonlight gleaming against his black eyes and hair.
A massive black greatsword was strapped to his back, swaying with each heavy step.
Behind him, a figure draped in white and gold garments followed in silence, in their chest, a eight-pointed golden star could be seen.
After days of relentless walking, the number of colossal stone formations began to dwindle. Far ahead, he finally saw it—an enormous city of dark sandstone rising from the dunes.
A grin broke across his otherwise stern face.
"Just you wait, Maya… Yuser… I'll kill you both."
Unknown to him, Yuser's life had already been claimed by another.
******
Over three weeks later,
in the underground desert, the one who had taken Yuser's life was laughing.
"Finally! Finally, it's done!"
Faust stood at the center of a runic formation, of a consume ritual.
The miasma around him had weakened significantly compared to three weeks before, and his progress in merging his will and mana into the Plague Bringer artifact had reached nearly fifty percent.
Thanks to the memories of the Old Rat Prince, he had also learned a new mana technique—something he called Mana Bomb. His initial attempts to replicate what the old man had done failed, so he tried his own way: forming a mana ball to light up, then overloading it with mana until it collapsed.
After training every day, Faust had refined it. Now, he could detonate it with Will alone, no longer needing to overload it to the brink. It worked like a detonation rune, although spent way more mana for somewhat similar results.
Alongside his training, he had finished scouting the area.
It was far larger than he had first imagined, with many additional corridor entrances scattered along the edges. There were countless unexplored paths, but that could wait. He wasn't in a rush.
By now, he was almost certain that time inside the trial flowed differently; either stretched compared to the outside world or operating by its own strange rhythm entirely.
Thanks to the miasma, which sharpened his thoughts, he had been able to think more clearly—just like the old man probably had. Faust wanted to use this time to train and strengthen himself as much as possible before leaving. He had no intention of leaving without the lamp, which now hung from his waist, tied securely by a leather strap taken from one of his pouches.
As for the key, he had been injecting mana into it regularly, and the connection was growing however it was faint.
The glow from its runes was barely visible, only a soft glint, no more than one percent of the runes mana capacity were filled, if that.
During this time, he had also tested the consume ritual with a single skeleton. To his surprise, it worked, though the efficiency was heavily reduced. Still, it slightly strengthened his body and improved his mana absorption rate.
That made sense. Originally, the ritual consumed blood, then flesh, then bone, and finally mana, in that order. Since he had skipped the first two steps, blood and flesh, he could only absorb bone and whatever residual mana still lingered in it. Mana existed in everything, after all.
Even weakened, the ritual still produced results and that was enough.
The first time he tried it, back in the forest, the pain had been so immense he nearly passed out multiple times. But now, pain was just something he had to ignore.
Pain is temporary. Results are eternal.
With that mindset, Faust had gathered all the remaining skeletons, except for the Old Rat Prince, and organized them around the ritual site. There were over forty in total, and the area was vast.
This time, instead of a shallow pit that only allowed his feet to enter, he had dig a deep hole using his hands and mana barriers.
He planned to bathe in the liquid drawn from bone to strengthen his body and then absorb the mana, to increase his mana absorption. If all went well, he would have a decent improvement.