Book 2, Chapter 4

Hello dears, this chapter didn't go through the usual editing process. Would you please let me know if you spot any problems with some sections or there are too many typos?

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The vast expanse of the desert stretched endlessly under the blistering sun, its golden sands shimmering in the relentless heat. A large column of people, a variety of men and women cloaked in flowy garbs, made their way through this desolate landscape on camelback. The attire consisted of flowing robes designed to shield them from the sun’s fury and the sand’s bite.

At the forefront of this procession rode the Hawthorne brothers, Vince and John, alongside Hassan, the second in command of the mercenary company Vince led, the Blaze Runners.

Vince, the older of the Hawthorne siblings, despite being only twenty-three years of age, exuded a sense of authority and calm that only those accustomed to the rigors of leadership possessed. His copper blonde hair and blue eyes, unusual in these parts, marked him as a man from distant lands, yet his demeanor spoke of someone who had found a second home in the vastness of the desert. Beside him, John Hawthorne, with his slick black hair, stubble black beard, and striking green eyes, cut a less imposing figure but no less interesting.

“Amunara is too hot for me,” John complained, wiping sweat from his brow with a gesture that conveyed his discomfort more eloquently than words ever could.

Vince gave him a sidelong glance, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his gaze. “You always complain, no matter where we are—it's not Amunara, it's you,” he retorted, his voice carrying the weight of an elder brother used to his sibling’s grievances.

“It’s not true,” John shrugged, the motion stirring up a small cloud of dust around his camel. “I just don’t like this huge, empty box of sand. Can’t we go somewhere else? I hear the Empire is full of young brides-to-be this time of the year.”

Hassan, who had been listening with a patience born of necessity, finally interjected. “We’ve been paid to do a job from the High Priestess no less,” he said, his tone firm yet not unkind. “I don’t know how you used to do things back home, young John, but we are bound to our words. Just be thankful we’re not meeting any Fortress Pincer along the way.”

John sighed heavily, the sound carrying through the dry air. “Let him be,” Vince told Hassan, a note of finality in his voice that suggested this was a conversation they had had many times before.

“Honor, Vince,” Hassan responded, undeterred. “We need to be men of honor.”

“Hassan,” Vince’s voice carried an edge, a warning not to push further.

Hassan’s obsession with doing the right thing was well-known among the company, a trait that had caused friction yet also earned him a grudging respect. His unwavering commitment to honor and duty was a constant, especially now as they embarked on their most significant assignment to date: the search for the Temple of Mut-Ankh in the Valley of Scorpions.

“Why’s the temple called Mut-Ankh if the priests are Ankh-Mut priests?” John’s question, innocent in its curiosity, broke the tension.

“Because they worship the Ankh before the Mut,” Hassan explained, his tone weary yet patient. “They’re [Healers] dedicated to life, young John. That is why they’re sending parties to look for the Temple of Mut-Ankh, where the secrets of the dead lay. They believe the Book of the Dead is there, which could unleash a calamity on the entire country. That’s why they want us to retrieve and deliver it to them.”

“If the [High Priestess] is this antsy, she must have had some visions,” Vince mused, his words reflecting a mix of skepticism and concern.

“Most likely,” Hassan agreed, nodding solemnly. “And the Jackal is apparently interested in it too.”

The conversation trailed off as the group continued their ride.

The air vibrated with heat, a mirage of wavering lines blurring the horizon, while the group navigated the vast, open tomb of sand. At the heart of their concern lay the legend of the Jackal, a specter that haunted the tales of treasure hunters and mercenaries alike, a thief of fortunes and lives.

“The Jackal might have infiltrated our ranks already,” Hassan said, his voice carrying the weight of the desert’s silence, his eyes scanning the horizon as if he could spot the betrayal in the air itself.

Vince exhaled, the sound almost lost amidst the shifting sands. “One of the [Diggers], perhaps,” he mused, the possibility hanging over them like a shadow. “We mustn’t lower our guard, especially if we stumble upon something significant. If the temple demands exploration, we’ll need sharp eyes on the lookout.”

John, despite his propensity for complaints about the desert’s heat and the emptiness of their quest, was acknowledged for his keen perception. “John may jest and grumble, but his eyes see more than most,” Vince added, glancing towards his brother. The roles they each played—John with his [Rogue - Level 102], Vince with [Gunslinger - Level 142], and Hassan with his [Warrior - Level 121]—spoke of their readiness to confront whatever, or whoever, the desert might unveil.

Hassan’s gaze lingered on John, assessing, before returning to the expanse before them. “Whether the Jackal lurks among us or not,” he declared, “our immediate challenge remains. The High Priestess’s instructions were to search and dig, yet we roam blindly in this endless sea of sand, chasing shadows of a temple that might as well be a mirage.”

The conversation drifted into the desert air, a mix of resignation and resolve among the group.

Many had been hired to deliver the Book of the Dead to the High Priestess, but only those bringing back some solid news of the temple, even just a hint, really, would get a large boon.

However, as if on cue with Hassan’s skepticism, the ground beneath them betrayed the day’s tranquility. A tremor, faint at first, grew into a determined shaking, sending a ripple of unease through the column. The desert, for a moment, seemed to breathe—a deep, unsettling inhalation—before the earth exploded in a spectacle of sand and stone a mere twenty or thirty meters ahead.

From the chaos of the upheaval emerged a figure, her laughter piercing the sudden silence, a sound both triumphant and unhinged. Covered in soot, her vaguely blonde hair the only hint of her identity against the dirt that clung to her, she stood at the edge of the newly formed crater, her presence an anomaly in the desert’s barren script.

“I’VE MADE IT! I’VE FUCKING MADE IT!” Her words, between fits of laughter, carried across the sands, her joy uncontained, infectious even in its madness. The camels, sensing the intensity of her scent even before the wind carried it to them, turned, unsettled by the newcomer’s stench.

Vince and Hassan exchanged glances, a silent conversation in their look. Then, they both took a look at her level right after. That definitely didn't clear any doubt they had.

[Healer - Level 32]

...

Lily’s laughter, raw and untamed, echoed across the barren expanse as she emerged from the depths below, a figure reborn from the very bowels of the earth. Covered in layers of dust and grime, her appearance was a stark contrast to the endless seas of sand that surrounded her. The sun, unforgiving in its midday zenith, cast her shadow long and warped upon the ground, a dark silhouette that danced with her every jubilant movement.

“I’VE MADE IT! I’VE FUCKING MADE IT!” she shouted to the heavens, her voice a defiant cry against the desolation of Amunara. The desert, for a moment, seemed to pause, the winds halting their endless voyage to listen to this solitary proclamation of victory.

Lily’s eyes, alight with the fervor of her triumph, scanned the horizon she had not seen for what felt like an eternity. The vast desert stretched before her, an unending canvas of gold and heat, indifferent to her struggles, her victories.

She had been alone, so utterly alone, in her subterranean prison, fighting against the darkness, the silence, and the stone that sought to claim her. The temple, her captor, and her sanctuary had tested her in ways she could never have anticipated. The monotony of her task, the methodical destruction of the enchanted stone, had become her world, her reality. She had embraced the madness of her situation, finding solace in the rhythm of her magic, the steady chipping away at her earthen cage.

The realization of the time lost to her endeavor struck her with a melancholic weight. Four years—four years of isolation, of toil, of relentless pursuit of an exit that had seemed as mythical as the temple itself. And yet, here she stood, under the open sky, breathing the free air that carried the scent of sand and sun.

Her father, Lucianus, haunted her thoughts. Why had he not come for her? The questions churned within her, a tempest of doubt and longing. He must have found safety after running away from the Necromonarchy. But then, how come he didn't manage to find his own daughter? Had he forgotten? Had he stopped caring?

Lily shook her head, casting aside the shadows of her thoughts. She had survived. She had escaped. That was all that mattered. Morever, the skills she had honed, the magic she had mastered—these were her victories, her spoils of war against the stone. The scorpions had become her prey, even their deep nests eradicated by her hand once she couldn't take the boredom anymore and was more willing than ever to risk her life in exchange for the thrill of real battle.

With a deep breath, Lily stepped forward, her first step into a world reborn.

“I’ve made it,” she whispered to herself again.

As she savored her victory, a trio of figures approached on camelback, their outlines shimmering in the heat haze. The men, clad in attire that spoke of practicality and a deep understanding of the desert’s whims, regarded the solitary figure with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Wait, are you guys real?” The woman’s voice broke through her laughter, her eyes squinting against the brightness of the day. “I’ve started hearing songs in my head after so much time down there—I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t real.” Even as she spoke, a flicker of doubt crossed her features, tempered by the activation of [Reality’s Whisper], her skill confirming the realness of the newcomers.

They were indeed real, their presence a tangible confirmation that she was no longer alone. Among them, one figure seemed vaguely familiar.

“Who are you, and what were you doing below the sand?” The darkest of the trio asked his attire—a blend of what she thought was Egyptian or perhaps Middle-Eastern—fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“Sand?” The woman, identified as Lily laughed, the sound rich with the relief of escape. “There’s sand for barely five meters down below. The rest is rock. ENCHANTED ROCKS! HA!” Her maniacal laughter made them frown.

“Enchanted?” The man with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes leaned forward, his expression sharpening with interest. “Where were you?”

“In a temple,” Lily replied with a nonchalant shrug, her casual demeanor belying the significance of her discovery. “Listen, could you point me to the nearest city? I need a bath before I actually lose my mind. And some new food. Maybe some vegetables—those would have been nice, Dad.”

The men exchanged glances, the weight of her words sinking in. “A temple?” The darkest among them, Hassan, repeated, his curiosity piqued. Dismounting from his camel, he stepped closer, his gaze moving past Lily to the hole she had emerged from.

“Cool, huh?” Lily said, joining him at the edge of the crater. “[Ethereal Fist], it’s a [Monk]’s skill. I miss [Monks]. I had some free time to practice, and it was basically the only thing that kept me sane. Do you want to see my stance?”

The intensity of her scent, a potent reminder of her prolonged isolation, made Hassan step back, but his interest remained undimmed. “Milady, I—I’m sorry, how long were you down there?”

“Oh, there? Just a few years,” Lily said with an innocent smile, the enormity of her ordeal condensed into a simple statement. “I teleported from a Dungeon and, well, ended up there.”

“Years?” Hassan’s voice carried a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “Ok, now I understand.” He extended his hand, his earlier reservation giving way to respect. “I’m very sorry about not introducing myself before. My name’s Hassan.”

“Lily,” she responded, her handshake firm and energetic, a human connection long missed.

“We would love to escort you back to the city, milady. Would you mind if my associates and I first checked the temple? Did you happen to find anything in it, perhaps, a book?” Hassan inquired, his duty to the mission resurfacing despite the unexpected turn of events.

Lily shook her head, her expression turning somber. “Nope, no books. Nothing, really. It was just empty.”

Hassan nodded, accepting her answer. “Alright, why don’t you go with my friend John while I go down there and check this out?”

“Hassan, what are you doing? We’re not babysitting this crazy woman,” protested the man with light brown hair, his frustration evident.

“I’m not that crazy,” Lily interjected, her voice tinged with some offense.

“Vince, she was down there for who knows how long. It’s the least we can do to help her out. And she discovered the temple. I think that the High Priestess will be very pleased with this. Guess the bonus is going to us whether we find the book or not,” Hassan reasoned, his sense of honor guiding his decision.

It was then that Lily’s gaze fixed on Vince, recognition dawning. “You’re the kid who was stealing from the [Librarian]’s place! The Class selection! That’s where I saw you!”

John squinted at her, his initial impression clouded by the layers of dirt and time. “Oh my, you have a lot of soot on you, but... you're really the blonde girl, aren't you?”

“You know her?” Vince asked, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected connection.

“I met her when I was getting my class,” John replied, a smile breaking through his initial surprise. “Well, a pleasure to meet you again. It must be destiny.”

“It really must be,” Lily agreed, her smile genuine. “How about a bath now, though?”

...

Descending the meticulously carved staircase into the bowels of the ancient temple, John and Hassan exchanged wary glances as they felt the humidity rise, their minds wrestling with the incongruities of the girl's tale.

The air grew much cooler as they delved deeper, the oppressive silence of the underground a stark contrast to the blistering heat of the desert above. Vince, leading the way with a frown etched deeply into his brow, voiced the skepticism that hung heavily between them. “She can’t have done this,” he said, the disbelief apparent in his tone. “Unless we’re missing a piece of her story. Given her age, she would have barely had a class when she was sealed inside. How did she even survive? Is there food and water down here?”

Hassan, his eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor for any signs of danger, replied, “I don't think she’s lying, maybe exaggerating."

"I'm convinced she's lying. Her behavior was odd—I’d bet my last coin she’s one of those eccentric Adventurers. She might have gotten the book for all we know.” Vince's words echoed off the stone walls, carrying a weight of unease.

"She had nothing on her, you saw as much. And if she hid it here, we'll find it. I don't trust her completely myself, Vince."

“Why did you insist on her joining our expedition then?” Vince challenged, his voice letting on much frustration.

“Because we need to be kind, Vince,” Hassan countered, his voice softening. “We don’t know the battles people face within themselves, the demons they grapple with. We found a young girl alone in the desert. Is extending our hand in help so objectionable?”

Vince scoffed, the sound sharp in the quiet of the temple, but they pressed on, moving deeper into the stone embrace of the earth.

The further they ventured, the more the evidence of Lily’s prolonged battle for survival became apparent. The remains of hundreds of Diseased Venomshade Stalkers littered the ground, their decayed forms a testament to the ferocity of their slayer. “A level 32 Healer did this?” John murmured incredulously, his hands instinctively moving to his guns. “This might be a trap,” Hassan added, his grip tightening on his scimitar.

But as they continued their exploration, the temple revealed itself to be eerily devoid of life. Signs of Lily’s extended stay were everywhere, from the rudimentary living spaces to the less savory indications of human presence. It became increasingly clear that the temple was empty, abandoned but for the echoes of its last desperate occupant.

“We’ll send some men to thoroughly search the place. Perhaps your brother should join them, Vince. His Perception could indeed prove invaluable if the girl is hiding anything,” Hassan finally conceded as they retraced their steps back to the surface, the weight of the empty temple heavy on their shoulders.

...

Emerging from the bath with new clothes and wearing her armor above them into a tent some servants had set up, Lily stood in stark contrast to the woman who had entered. The layers of grime and dust that had once caked her skin were now washed away, revealing a clearer complexion beneath. Despite the improvement, her hair remained a tangled mess, matted and streaked with the stubborn remnants of her underground ordeal. She examined her reflection in a copper mirror with a pragmatic eye, acknowledging the state of her once-pristine locks.

“I need to cut it,” she stated matter-of-factly, her fingers gingerly probing the damaged strands. “I’ll do that once I’m in the city. It’s ruined, anyway,” she added with a resigned shrug.

John watched her with a curiosity that had evolved into something akin to admiration. The transformation from the soot-covered, wild-eyed survivor to the woman before him was remarkable. Her armor, once dulled by the desert and her underground prison, now gleamed with a renewed luster, echoing her own physical and mental rejuvenation.

“It’s alright,” he said, his voice tinged with an accent that Lily hadn’t noticed before. It was almost British, a reminder of a world far removed from the desert. “Can I ask where you’re from?” she inquired, the question bridging the distance between their shared experiences and the mysteries that still hung between them.

“Court of Roses,” John replied with a smile that reached his green eyes. “It’s been a long trip, hasn’t it?"

Lily looked at him curiously.

"But yeah, we’re a bit of a mercenary company. Vince’s in charge—he’s a bit rough around the edges, you know? Don’t mind what he says. He’s a big softie underneath.”

“A big what?” John’s attempt at levity fell flat as Vince and Hassan entered the tent set up outside the newly unearthed temple entrance. The interior was sparse, functional, serving as a makeshift base for their operations.

Hassan, standing with Vince, turned to Lily, his expression one of cautious respect. “It seems you might have not been lying. We did find enough evidence that you might have been down there alone for a while. However, we would like to know what kind of powerful artifact you used to kill those Stalkers.”

“These two artifacts,” Lily responded, raising her fists.

"Don't lie," Vince hissed. "Who are you?"

Hassan placed a reassuring hand on Vince’s shoulder, a silent message to temper his skepticism. “We’ve sent our men down there, and John should go with them. Let's leave the girl alone, Vince. We have more things to focus on. The High Priestess is restless, and the faster we send her word, the faster we get our dues.”

...

The desert of Amunara unfurled before them. It was a landscape both beautiful and barren, where life clung to existence as stubbornly as the shadows clung to the crevices of the dunes. The sun, a fiery orb in the sky, cast the world in a brilliant light, its rays turning the sand into a sea of sparkling jewels. Lily felt like traversing the Valley of Kings and was amazed by the beauty that surrounded them.

It was a much more exotic scenario compared to what she had witnessed so far in the Papal State.

Her gaze swept across this magnificent desolation, her heart a mix of awe and melancholy. But her wonderful meditative reflections were suddenly interrupted by a loud jerk who clearly couldn't mind his own business.

“Why are you here?” Vince demanded.

“Nonya,” Lily responded with a smirk.

“What?” Vince’s frown deepened, his confusion apparent.

“Nonyabusiness,” Lily’s smile widened. However, when she saw Vince not relenting, she sighed and tried to explain.

"Sorry, it’s been a while since I spoke with anyone. I started talking to myself at some point, and I think I might have done some damage by doing that. Started making jokes and stuff... and, well, nothing. I’m here to look for someone, let’s say. I can’t really tell you the details.”

“Is that all? You've spent years in a temple underground alone and you just say 'I'm here to meet someone?' Are you stupid? ,” Vince asked, the displeasure clear in his voice.

“Maybe a bit,” Lily shrugged, unbothered by his assessment. “How come you’re here, instead? Looking for treasure? Tomb-raiding?”

“Work,” Vince replied curtly, his attention shifting back to the path ahead, finally leaving Lily to her thoughts.

Suddenly, Lily’s skin tingled a warning that prompted her to leap from her camel’s back and dash forward. “Stop!” she shouted, her voice carrying the urgency of her intuition. Moments later, as Vince’s frustration was about to boil over, the sand beneath them erupted, revealing the metallic sheen of a giant scorpion.

"It's a Fortress Pincer!" Hassan screamed. "Everyone stand back!"

The Fortress Pincer towered over them, its pincers gleaming in the sunlight. She examined its level, taking a deep breath when she saw it in full.

[Fortress Pincer - Level 75]

It looked mean, extremely mean. Its body was an intimidating assembly of metallic plates, resembling armor more suited for a battlefield than nature's design. Each segment was interconnected with a precision that still allowed for fluid movement even in all its bulkiness.

As Lily prepared to engage, a gunshot rang out, and the creature collapsed, a smoking hole in one of its eyes. Vince, holstering his gun, quipped, “You’re welcome, Healer. I would have been curious to see how you would have dealt with that at your level. Do you have a death wish?.”

Before Lily could retort, the ground trembled once more. “Another subterranean Healer?” John joked, but Hassan’s grave expression silenced him. “No, much worse.”

Dozens of Fortress Pincers emerged, encircling them with their towering forms.