Sand Mage of the Burnt Desert

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Chapter 8

Zeon hurriedly followed Dyoden into the portal.

Despite the immense pressure crushing him once more, Zeon didn’t lose his grip, having experienced it once before.

“Where is thi?”

They were in the midst of a scorching desert, with the sun beating down intensely.

Just moments ago, they were in the midst of an erupting volcano, and yet the surroundings had magically transformed.

As Zeon scanned the area, all he could see was blazing hot sand in every direction, without any discernible landmarks.

Zeon asked Dyoden.

“Where are we?”

Swoosh!

Instead of answering, Dyoden suddenly grabbed Zeon’s wrist, twisting it.

“Why… are you…”

“I don’t see the rank insignia on your wrist, but I definitely saw you manipulating sand.”

“Ugh!”

Zeon grunted in pain as his wrist felt like it was being crushed in a giant press.

The agony was unbearable.

He collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed by the excruciating pain.

Zeon now understood the saying, when it hurts so much that you can’t even scream.

Dyoden released his grip, remarking.

“Well, there are a lot of Awakened, so it wouldn’t be that strange if there was a special case like you.”

“Ugh!”

Only then did Zeon let out a groan he had been suppressing. Still, the pain did not go away.

Losing control momentarily, Zeon exclaimed.

“You damn old man! You almost broke my arm!”

“You really are as weak as you are stupid.”

“Sand Blaster”

Furious, Zeon activated his Sand Blaster skill.

The high-pressure sand blast hit Dyoden’s chest fiercely, yet it elicited no reaction from him.

Dyoden laughed, brushing off the sand from his chest.

“It’s certain you’ve awakened sand-manipulating abilities. Hehe!”

“So what? Do you have something to add?”

“From now on, you’re coming with me, fool!”

“My name’s Zeon, not fool… you damn old man!”

“If you’re weak, you’re a fool.”

“This…”

“If you say one more word, I’ll rip your mouth apart.”

“Tsk!”

Zeon involuntarily clamped his mouth shut.

Dyoden was a monster who had hunted the dungeon’s final boss, the Crimson Drake.

He was beyond Zeon’s comprehension.

Even though he lost control momentarily, Zeon realized he couldn’t have been Dyoden’s opponent from the start.

Zeon was utterly insignificant in Dyoden’s eyes, a feeble existence easily crushed with a single finger.

Dyoden glanced at Kreion, murmuring to himself,

“Hmm… It seems to be barely at F-rank now. It’ll take a while for it to become useful.”

“……”

“Hehe! I just have to be harsh with him. If he doesn’t die, he will become stronger.”

The sight of him muttering to himself while looking at Creion didn’t look normal at all.

‘I think I was really caught by a crazy old man.’

It was a desert with nowhere to hide.

He couldn’t even dream of running away.

Until he gained strength, Zeon had no choice but to accompany Dyoden.

Dyoden spoke.

“Follow me.”

“Yes!”

Zeon sighed and followed Dyoden.

‘Being powerless is a crime. A crime!’

***

Dyoden seemed impervious to the heat of the scorching desert.

Despite walking on the shadeless sands, he showed no signs of fatigue or discomfort from the heat.

On the other hand, Zeon, who was following him, was on the verge of collapse.

The sinking sand, searing hot under the blazing sun, drained his stamina.

His entire body had been drenched in sweat for a while now.

“Pant, pant!”

His breathing became labored, and his steps slowed down.

That’s when…

“Ha! Seems like there’s no one more foolish. Not even utilizing one percent of the ability you possess.”

“What do you mean?”

“You gained the ability to manipulate sand, didn’t you?”

“And?”

“Just use the sand. Why bother walking so hard?”

“Is it as easy as it sounds? I barely Awakened a couple of days ago.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Really!”

Zeon was furious. Then Dyoden stopped, turning back.

His face held a look of disdain as he looked at Zeon.

That look made Zeon emotional once again.

“I’m F-rank, not a high-level Awakened like you.”

“That’s why you’re a fool. What does it matter if you’re F-rank or S-rank? Who’s born an S-rank from the start? Of course, there might be such a person, blessed from birth. But just because you’re not blessed, are you going to give up? You too will be seen as blessed enough in the eyes of others. So quit whining and start thinking about how to utilize your abilities. What does it matter if your body’s intact but your mind is full of shit?”

“Can you really stop calling me a fool?”

“If you don’t want to be called a fool, you should first break your stubborn head. Until then, you’re a fool among fools.”

In the end, Zeon had to shut his mouth without getting a word in edgewise.

As Dyoden turned away, he said.

“It’s your ability. You should know best. Figure out how to grow it and how to utilize it best.”

“What if I can’t figure it out?”

“You’ll die.”

“What?”

“Either I’ll kill you or that sun will. One of the two.”

“……”

With that, Dyoden resumed walking.

In his wake lay two lines of imprints stretching far.

Zeon glared at Dyoden’s back.

‘Fool? Wants to shatter my stubborn head?’

Something deep inside him began to boil up.

It was anger.

Anger towards Dyoden and anger towards himself.

Both angers surged fiercely within him.

Zeon gritted his teeth.

‘Yeah! I’ll do it for you. I will never let you call me a fool again.’’

With determination, Zeon followed Dyoden, pondering.

‘All I have is the ability to manipulate sand. So, I need to use the sand.’

He had Awakened as a Sand Manipulator but hadn’t grasped the extent of his abilities.

He’d merely used them improvisationally to escape dire situations.

He needed to understand his limitations this time. He had to intensely think about how far he could go with it.

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Zeon moved his mana, and immediately, sand from the area started gravitating toward him.

‘Within about five meters in diameter from me?’

The closer the sand was, the quicker it moved, while the farther sand took longer.

It was movable but sluggish, another issue he needed to contemplate.

But Zeon pushed this concern aside.

There was something more pressing to address.

Squelch! Squelch!

Sinking sand up to his ankles was the problem.

Every time he lifted his foot, it drained an enormous amount of his strength. If he didn’t solve this, Zeon would undoubtedly be stranded in the desert.

‘What if I compact the sand under my feet?’

It was a method he’d used while crossing the lava river.

Zeon promptly solidified the sand beneath his feet.

Walking became much easier.

It felt like walking on paved ground, effortless.

But there was a problem.

Mana consumption was severe.

Each time he solidified the ground, his mana was depleted rapidly.

At this rate, Zeon foresaw total depletion of his mana after a few dozen meters.

Zeon abandoned this method.

The vision of what might happen after his mana completely depleted was crystal clear.

“Either be baked in the sun and turn into a mummy, or before that, end up becoming food for the monsters.’”

Just the thought was terrifying.

Zeon contemplated his next approach.

‘My mana pool isn’t large yet. I can’t sustain this reckless consumption in the desert. So, I have to think of an efficient way to reduce mana consumption.’

Zeon’s next idea was to concentrate mana on both legs. Just focusing mana considerably lightened his steps and significantly reduced stamina consumption.

However, Zeon had to discard this method as well.

While immediately effective, it didn’t align with his ability—manipulating sand.

He was a Sand Manipulator. So, he needed to polish his sand-manipulating skills. It might be tough now, but for the future, it was inevitable.

Thirdly, Zeon opted to manipulate the sand differently—moving the sand that directly touched the soles of his feet.

‘About one centimeter in thickness across the size of my foot.’

Zeon concentrated.

Focusing mana narrowly was more challenging than using it broadly. Excessive concentration disrupted the sand’s coherence, causing it to scatter when moved.

Each time, Zeon lost control and ended up flat on the sandy ground.

“Urgh!”

Fortunately, the soft sand prevented injury, but he had to spit sand out of his mouth.

“Photuu!”

Zeon stood up, spitting out sand.

With no water to drink, his mouth felt parched, now even drier due to the sand.

“Ha.”

Exhaustion was evident on Zeon’s face.

In the distance, Dyoden could be seen.

Dyoden hadn’t once glanced back. It seemed he cared little about Zeon’s survival.

This sight infuriated Zeon even more.

“Who’s responsible for me being in this state?”

Anger surged once again.

If it weren’t for Dyoden, Zeon might have been resting at the Magic Stone Mines by now. Amidst the difficulty and pain, resentment and anger towards Dyoden filled Zeon, clouding rational judgment.

Zeon sensed he was losing his grip on sanity.

He realized he had to find a solution quickly; otherwise, he’d undoubtedly lose his mind.

‘Again!’

Zeon refocused on the sand under his feet.

The sand he commanded began to move, slowly, like the wheels of a train on rails.

Yet, it was excruciatingly slow.

Since he wasn’t yet accustomed to handling mana.

Concentrating on a confined area was tougher than using dominion broadly. When his focus wavered, the sand lost its coherence and scattered.

Each time, Zeon crashed backward onto the ground.

Despite growing fatigue, Zeon didn’t give up.

He repeatedly focused on the sand beneath his feet.

His efforts didn’t go in vain.

He gradually became more adept at manipulating the sand.

The sand carrying Zeon moved much more smoothly

Ssss…

In a way, it seemed like the sand itself was moving him. But it was the manifestation of Zeon’s relentless efforts.

He fell countless times and contemplated, making this movement possible.

However, there was still considerable mana wastage. At this rate, he couldn’t last long.

Zeon concentrated harder, trying to efficiently use mana.

As a result, his mana barely held up, and he could move comfortably across the sand.

Dyoden, without even looking back, noticed Zeon’s progress.

Mana fluctuations, air movements, even Zeon’s breathing gave him a wealth of information.

He could tell what Zeon’s situation was right now without even having to look.

He muttered.

“You’ve become a somewhat useful fool.”

Though by his standards, Zeon still fell short.

[Translator – Peptobismol]

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