Chương 170: A Long Journey Ahead

Vale turned and headed back toward the others. Eskar and Drago were already moving again, their silhouettes cutting steadily through the dunes as if the encounter behind them had been nothing more than a brief delay. Vale slowed when he caught up, eyes drifting to Eskar. Strangely enough, there were no visible wounds on him, no punctures, no crushed armor, nothing that suggested he had been slammed aside by a massive scorpion.

The only sign of the battle was the faint scorching across his skin and clothes, darkened patches where his own flames had licked too close, too long. Vale jogged a little faster, unease creeping back into his chest. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke.

"Why does the desert guardian protect us now?" Drago didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where endless dunes melted into shimmering heat. The silence stretched just long enough to feel deliberate. Eskar glanced back at Vale, then forward again, his expression tightening with thought.

"Yeah," he added, frowning slightly.

"I'd like to know that as well. Does that creature have… human-like intelligence, perhaps?" Drago continued walking, staff pressing into the sand with each step. Finally, he spoke.

"Yes. Desert guardians are non-hostile by nature," he said calmly.

"They only fight when hungry, or when they must." He paused, letting that settle before continuing.

"Now that we have provided it with food and allowed it to memorize our scent, it will protect us. Not out of loyalty. Not out of affection. Simply because it understands that our continued survival benefits it." Vale blinked.

"So… it's like domestication?" he asked, brow lifting. Eskar shot him a look of mild surprise and shook his head.

"Not quite. We can't command it, and we certainly can't restrain it. This isn't ownership." He thought for a moment, then added, "It's closer to a symbiotic relationship." Drago nodded slowly, approving.

"Exactly. The guardian could crush us in an instant if it wished to. There are very few creatures of that scale that can be domesticated safely." Vale's steps faltered just slightly.

"Wait," he said, eyes narrowing with interest.

"Are you saying there are creatures that big that can be domesticated?" Drago didn't answer right away. The wind hissed across the sand, tugging at his cloaks. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Yes. But it is exceedingly rare." Vale and Eskar both leaned in without realizing it.

"The people affiliated with the Kingdom of Irea who possess such beasts are called Riders," Drago continued.

"They bear sub-titles that reflect the type of mount they command. Those titles vary widely, depending on the creature and its bond." He paused briefly before adding, "Creatures comparable in size or strength to the desert guardian are only tamed by the highest-ranking members of the Irea Royal Guard." Vale raised an eyebrow, absorbing the weight of that statement. Drago didn't seem particularly eager to elaborate, but Vale could tell he would anyway.

Neither he nor Eskar understood this realm well enough to fill in the gaps themselves.

"The Royal Guard," Drago went on, "is an outdated title. In practice, it is our highest-level unit. A special forces division. Our last line of defense." He took another step, then suddenly stopped.

"…Ah." Drago's eyes widened just slightly, as if a realization had clicked into place.

"I almost forgot. That man won't allow Wolf to do as he pleases." Vale opened his mouth instantly, but Eskar beat him to it. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"What do you mean, sir?" Eskar asked, confusion sharp in his voice. Drago glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

"We have a new member in the Royal Guard. Young, but without question the strongest we have ever had." That alone was enough to make them listen closely.

"I exchanged a few words with him," Drago continued.

"He seems like a good kid. I am quite certain he will not allow the Royal Guard to become Wolf's dogs." Silence fell between the three of them, heavy and thoughtful. Vale's mind raced. then, his curiosity won.

"Can you tell us about him?" he asked. Drago didn't answer. He kept walking, boots sinking softly into the sand, the desert stretching endlessly around them. Minutes passed, long enough that Vale wondered if he'd pushed too far. Then Drago spoke again.

"His name is Ares." Vale and Eskar both straightened instinctively.

"Unlike most members of the Royal Guard," Drago said, "he is not a Rider." Both of them froze.

"What?" Vale and Eskar nearly spoke in unison. If Riders wielded the greatest beasts, then how could someone surpass them without one? Drago anticipated the question.

"He possesses a transformation ability." Their attention sharpened immediately.

"Very few have witnessed it," Drago continued.

"But those who have describe it as utterly terrifying. A form the size of a titan, overflowing with wrath." Eskar snapped his hands outward in disbelief.

"Hold on. Didn't you say abilities here were impossible?" Drago glanced at him, then lowered his gaze to the blade at his side.

"Is that weapon not proof enough that exceptions exist?" Eskar stiffened, then fell silent. Drago slowed his pace and spoke again, his tone precise, instructional.

"I'll explain clearly." He gestured vaguely toward the desert.

"This realm is saturated with Atum, but it is stagnant. Your abilities fail because they attempt to project power outward, into an environment that resists manipulation." He turned his head slightly, addressing both of them now.

"Transformation abilities are the exception." Vale's breath caught.

"They do not force power outward," Drago said.

"They redirect it inward. They reshape the body, increasing its mass, strength, and structure using only the Atum already contained within the user." He paused.

"The stagnant Atum outside the body does not interfere, because it is never touched." Drago stopped walking and faced them fully.

"Do you understand?" Vale and Eskar remained silent for a long while, the desert wind whispering around them as their footsteps pressed shallow trails into the sand. Eventually, both of them nodded, acceptance settling in, heavy but unavoidable. After a few more steps, Vale broke the silence once again.

"May I ask…" he began carefully, then continued, "how many people with transformation abilities exist in this realm?" Drago glanced at him. A strange expression crossed the old man's face, something unreadable, hovering between reluctance and calculation. He said nothing at first. They continued walking, the rhythmic crunch of sand beneath their boots filling the silence. Minutes passed. Finally, Drago spoke.

"Not counting god-like beings," he said flatly, "only one." Vale's brow furrowed.

"One?" Drago nodded.

"Ares himself." The words lingered in the air. Vale stared ahead, absorbing them. Only one. In an entire realm this vast, this violent, only a single being capable of such power.

"I see," Vale murmured. He hesitated, then pushed forward with the question that had been clawing at his thoughts for some time now.

"Sorry," he said quietly, "but do you perhaps know of a man, or a dragon, named Dagon?" Drago stopped. He turned slowly, fixing Vale with a sharp, narrowed stare. For a brief moment, something dangerous flickered behind his eyes, an emotion he was clearly trying to suppress. Vale felt cold sweat bead along his spine. They held each other's gaze for a long, suffocating second. Then Drago turned away and resumed walking.

"I do not," he said. That was all. Vale watched the man's back in silence, his thoughts racing. The lie was obvious. The hesitation, the look, Drago had heard the name before. Maybe more than that. But Vale knew better than to press the issue. Angering their only guide in a land where nearly everything wanted them dead was not just foolish, it was suicidal. So Vale said nothing. They walked on. Hours passed beneath the blazing sun.

Eventually, its light dulled, then bled into shades of crimson and gold before finally slipping beneath the horizon. Darkness settled over the desert, vast and oppressive. Not long after nightfall, they stopped between two towering dunes. Drago turned to them.

"Put your things here," he instructed.

"We won't be eating tonight. Too many predators in this area." Vale and Eskar exchanged a glance, then nodded. Without protest, they set their gear down in the sand.

"I'll take first watch," Eskar said. Vale lowered himself onto the cool sand, lying flat on his back. He stared up at the sky. There were no stars. The emptiness above him felt wrong, unnatural. His thoughts drifted to Ember… to Chrome… to where they might be now, and what dangers they could be facing. An uneasy sensation tightened in his chest. He closed his eyes, reaching out instinctively, trying to feel Ember's emotions. Nothing. The connection failed completely. Vale's breath hitched. He didn't sleep.

Instead, he lay there all night, his eyes fixed on the lightless sky above,