I lost track of how many hours I spent blacked out or delirious in the grip of that fever. The sun shifted from its peak high above down toward the west.
When I finally opened my eyes, the crystal in my hand had turned into empty, hollow glass. It crumbled to dust the moment I squeezed it.
The pain had vanished, replaced by a terrifying surge of power. My muscles felt dense, as if steel wires had just been woven beneath my skin.
"Haa..."
I clenched my fist. Strong. Unbelievably strong.
Then, my gaze fell upon the creature's carapace and pincers.
But dragging hundreds of kilograms across loose sand was suicide, even with my newfound strength. The friction alone would drain my stamina dry long before I reached the border.
My eyes shifted to the carcass of the desert worm I had cleaved earlier. Its skin.
The worm's slime had dried into a slick, waxy coating. Perfect.
I skinned the worm—a gruesome task that cost me another hour. A foul, metallic stench filled the air, but I didn't care. I laid the worm's skin out flat like a tarp, then piled the scorpion's carapace onto it.
I had no rope.
Returning to the scorpion's remains, I ripped out the tough intestines and tendons from its mangled body. I tied them into dead knots, bundling the pile together into one massive package.
A sled made of flesh.
I tested the pull. The worm's skin glided smoothly over the sand.
The trail left behind me looked like the flattened path of a giant serpent.
Time lost its meaning in this desert. Maybe a day had passed. Maybe a week.
My water was gone.
Then, I caught the scent. The smell of moisture.
Ahead of me lay an oasis. Its waters were crystal clear, bordered by a few lone date palms.
An oasis formed from the lingering hopes of thousands who had died of thirst in these sands. Their condensed energy and emotions had manifested this paradise in the middle of the wasteland.
I threw myself into the water.
Not to swim, but to survive. The worm slime coating my clothes had begun to react with the sun's heat, producing a corrosive, itching vapor.
I scrubbed my skin with wet sand, sloughing off the dried blood and monster viscera. My clothes were ruined—the fabric worn thin and riddled with acid burns—but at least they were no longer searing my flesh.
I refilled my waterskin and cracked open a coconut.
As I drank, I looked toward the eastern horizon.
In the distance, a faint gleam caught the sunlight. A golden spire.
The City of the Sun's Son.
Without a compass or a map, that spire was my only landmark.
"Still a long way to go," I whispered.
I leaned back against the base of a tree. Closed my eyes for a moment.
Finally, a clear destination.
The fortress towered above, piercing the sky.
Endless, solid stone walls stretched across the horizon, a barrier dividing the death of the desert from the life within.
The City of the Sun's Son.
I approached on foot, dragging my spoils behind me.
The gate guards stopped me. Their armor gleamed; their spears were pristine. A stark contrast to me, covered in dried blood, slime, and desert dust.
Even though I had washed up, there was no completely hiding the lingering traces of battle.
"Show your identification," the guard demanded hesitantly. His eyes were glued to the massive haul trailing behind me.
"I'm from a remote village," I replied flatly. "I came to change my fate."
A classic excuse, but one that always worked for outsiders like me.
The guard stared at me. There was fear in his eyes. But there was also a profound respect—one born of primal survival instincts upon seeing a man walk out of the desert of death all alone.
"How did you... get all this?"
I patted the spear on my back and the katana at my waist.
"I'm a hunter."
A brief silence fell between us.
"Very well," the guard finally said. "You'll need to have an ID issued. And pay the toll."
"I don't have any coin. But I do have this." I gestured to the mound of monster parts behind me. "Can it be sold?"
"I-it can. Come with me, I'll show you where."
The heavy gates opened. I stepped through.
Leaving behind the silent desert, I walked into the noisy realm of humanity.