Sand Mage of the Burnt Desert

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]

Chapter 208

The houses of the Desert Elves were built from sand.

They molded the sand and used magic to harden it, creating bricks. These sand bricks were then stacked to form their homes.

Naturally, being made of sand, these houses were immune to fire.

For a long time, the sand houses served as sturdy shelters for the Desert Elves. But now, at this very moment, these sand houses were burning.

It wasn't an ordinary fire; it was a magical flame.

The high-temperature flames not only melted the sand but also incinerated it completely.

This was the skill known as 'Death's Breath,' unleashed by the Orc shaman.

The flames created by Death's Breath wouldn't extinguish until they had completely consumed their target, even if that target was sand.

"Ahhh!"

"Help me!"

Desperate screams of the Desert Elves echoed through the burning sand houses.

The Orcs were massacring the Elves.

The Elves tried to resist, but they were vastly outnumbered by the Orcs.

With three or four Orcs attacking each Elf, the Elves couldn't put up a proper fight.

In the end, they were swept away like ants caught in a flood, overpowered by the relentless tide of Orcs.

Screams and cries of the Elves filled the air.

Everything the Elves had painstakingly built over the past century was being destroyed, and the Elves themselves were dying along with it.

"This... can't be!"

Tabaro, the chieftain of the Desert Elves, struggled to open his eyes and look around.

All he saw was death.

Everything he had led and built was crumbling and burning.

His kin, his loyal followers, were all dying.

This was the price they paid for failing to stop the deathly tide of the Orcs.

Tabaro himself was paying that price.

A massive spear was lodged in his abdomen.

The spear, which seemed too large for even the strongest Orcs to wield, belonged to the Orc Great Chieftain, Orca.

Orca lifted the spear that had impaled Tabaro's abdomen, raising Tabaro into the air along with it.

"Ugh! To be defeated by mere Orcs..."

"That's why you're dying, and why your kind is falling. Elf!"

Orca mocked the dying Tabaro.

Just like the Elves, the Orcs had little regard for change.

The crude houses made of sand, the clothes fashioned from monster hides, the sunburned skin—all were signs of mere survival, not progress.

Despite their claims of nobility, the Elves had not advanced beyond mere subsistence.

They considered themselves superior but did nothing to improve.

Had Orca been an Elf, he would have prepared for the Orcs' assault. But these Elves were utterly unprepared.

That was why the Desert Elf village was being annihilated today.

Orca looked into Tabaro's eyes as he spoke.

"Today, the Elves fall, and the Orcs rise."

"Conceited... Orcs..."

"The Orcs you despise and look down on will rise beyond your imagination. Watch us from the depths of hell."

With a burst of energy, Tabaro's body exploded.

Orca had concentrated his energy into the spear, causing Tabaro's body to burst apart.

Flesh and blood splattered everywhere.

The surviving Elves screamed in despair.

"Chief Tabaro!"

"No, no!"

Tears of blood streamed from their eyes.

The Orcs ruthlessly slaughtered those Elves as well.

And so, an entire Desert Elf village vanished from the world.

Orca sat among the ruins, watching the flames consume the village.

The flames blazed high, turning the gray sky a vivid red. Orca thought it was a magnificent sight.

'This is how I will burn the human cities.'

Orcs harbored a deep-seated hatred for humans and Elves, rooted in their very genes.

Orca didn't know why this hatred existed, nor did he care to know.

Orcs were not a species that pondered; they acted on instinct.

There was only one Orc among them who contemplated.

"Priest!"

The old Orc Priest, Orca's right hand and his mind, approached with a grave expression.

"Lord Orca!"

"What's the matter? We've destroyed the Desert Elf village. Why isn't your expression bright?"

"The shaman of the Red Hammer Tribe has died."

"The shaman?"

Orca frowned.

The Orc shamans and the Priest shared a spiritual connection.

They couldn't read each other's thoughts but could sense each other's emotions and state of being to a certain extent.

"The Red Hammer Tribe...?"

"They were with Ashanka."

"It seems something happened to him."

Shamans supported the warriors from the rear.

If a shaman had died, it meant the front line Orcs had faced a serious situation.

Ashanka wasn't foolish or irresponsible enough to let a shaman die.

Clearly, something had prevented him from protecting the shaman.

"What should we do, Lord Orca?"

"Send the scouts. We'll wait here until they return."

"As you command."

The Priest responded respectfully.

The scouts rode Blood Wolves, known for their exceptional sense of smell and mobility.

They would find out what happened to Ashanka before the day ended.

"Foolish Ashanka. To lose a shaman to mere humans."

Shamans were invaluable.

It took a long time to properly train a shaman.

"If he's dead, we'll avenge him. If not, I'll rip his head off myself."

Either way, Ashanka was as good as dead.

* * *

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]

Zeon sat and watched the activity inside the Steel Fortress.

The survivors were moving busily.

Many had died or been injured in the Orc attack, but the living couldn't afford to mourn the dead.

They didn't know when the Orcs might attack again.

Before that, they had to be fully prepared.

First, they cleared away the bodies of the dead.

They gathered the bodies in one place and burned them.

They cremated the bodies.

Leaving the bodies unburied or buried could attract monsters with the smell, so they had no choice but to burn them.

Next were the Orc corpses.

Over a thousand Orcs had attacked.

Burning that many bodies was too much, even for the fire magic-wielding Awakened. So, they decided to throw the bodies into the cave where the Four-Eyed Bats lived.

"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"

"Put more effort into it."

People dragged the heavy Orc corpses to the vertical cave and threw them in.

The sound of bats flapping their wings echoed from the cave.

The Four-Eyed Bats were enjoying an unexpected feast of Orc corpses.

Fortunately, Deborah had tamed the queen bat, preventing the bats from coming through the vertical cave.

Deborah, standing nearby, spoke.

"If we keep feeding them like this, the Four-Eyed Bats will get used to the taste of Orc meat."

"Four-Eyed Bats that have acquired a taste for Orcs will become valuable allies."

"It's called turning a crisis into an opportunity."

"Indeed."

Zeon nodded.

Using the Orc corpses as food for the Four-Eyed Bats was entirely Deborah's idea.

The Steel Fortress gained powerful guardians in the bats, while the bats enjoyed a new delicacy in the Orcs. It was a win-win situation for both.

Urtian and the Awakeneds were busy fortifying the fortress.

They shaved off more of the slopes below the fortress to make it harder for the Orcs to climb and piled up stones at the entrance to throw down.

They prepared many other things as well.

Now, there were no more divisions among the people.

Fighting together against the Orcs had created a sense of camaraderie and unity.

The Awakeneds prepared for battle while the ordinary people ensured they had the best conditions to fight.

Deborah watched the people with a nostalgic gaze.

"Finally, we are united. We will fight with everything we have to protect this place."

"Good for you."

Zeon's tone made Deborah sense something was off.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"It would be too selfish to ask you to stay longer, wouldn't it?"

"I've learned something important while wandering the desert."

"And what's that?"

"Too much interference in the lives of the natives is not good."

At the time, Zeon was a wanderer.

He roamed the world without settling down.

He had no intention of settling anywhere.

If he helped too much and people depended on him, it would be problematic.

In the desert, Zeon's abilities were practically cheats.

If they grew accustomed to his protection, the colony or village's self-sufficiency would decline.

Several villages that had heavily relied on Zeon were annihilated after he left.

Zeon had learned about this too late and had felt deep guilt.

While the village's destruction wasn't his fault, he had contributed to their loss of self-reliance.

After that, Zeon made it a rule to minimize his involvement wherever he went.

Deborah, being wise, quickly understood Zeon's point.

"That makes sense. We've relied on you so much that I momentarily forgot the obvious."

"With your wisdom, you'll manage this place well."

"That's only if we survive. We will survive."

"Yes."

"When we thrive enough to trade with Neo Seoul, we'll come find you."

"I'll be waiting with joy."

"Are you leaving right now?"

"The sooner the farewell, the less the sadness."

Zeon dusted off his pants and stood up.

Deborah also stood and walked with Zeon.

Seeing Zeon heading for the entrance, Brielle, Levin, and Eloy approached.

Brielle asked,

"Are you leaving now?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

"Are you ready?"

"We've been ready."

Brielle tapped Levin's bag.

Levin grinned and said,

"We've packed plenty of food and water. We should be fine for now."

They had filled the subspace backpack with enough food and water to last until they reached Neo Seoul.

With everything ready, the group descended the basket from the Steel Fortress.

At the base of the fortress, they saw Urtian waiting for them.

“Leaving now?”

“Yes.”

“Then take these.”

Urtian said, handing over the reins of two Bactrian Camels.

“We would have given one camel per person if our resources were better, but this is the best we can do.”

“That’s more than enough,”

Zeon said, shaking his head.

He understood the value of camels to desert scavengers, not just as transportation but as companions and vital resources.

“These camels will make your journey much easier. You can take turns riding to conserve your strength.”

“We appreciate it.”

“When you reach Neo Seoul, release them. They’ll find their way back to us.”

“We’ll do that.”

Zeon accepted Urtian’s gesture.

“Then this is farewell. May you return safely to Neo Seoul.”

“And may you defend this place from the Orcs successfully.”

“We will survive and thrive. I assure you, when you come back, this place will be as grand as Neo Seoul.”

“I’m sure it will be.”

“And take this...”

“What is this?”

Zeon looked at the black crystal in Urtian's hand.

"This is a means of communication with the scavengers in Neo Seoul. We used it to stay in touch with them."

"A kind of communication device, I see. But why are you giving it to me?"

"Since we've settled down, we no longer need it. You might find it useful if you ever need to contact scavengers."

"Thank you."

Zeon took the black crystal, then turned to bid farewell to Urtian and Deborah.

“We’re off now.”

“Take care.”

Zeon and his companions bowed their heads slightly in farewell and departed from the Steel Fortress.

Watching Zeon’s group as they grew smaller in the distance, Deborah murmured,

“A storm is brewing in the desert. A massive sandstorm...”

She was referring to Zeon, a storm in human form.

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]