As dusk approached, the desert of the Hotland bathed in a golden hue.
Countless folds of sand and stone rose like frozen waves, stretching all the way to the golden horizon in the distance.
A giant beast, nearly three stories tall, carried heavy burdens as it moved slowly across the sandy ground.
Besides the packs on either side, there was also a spacious basket hanging under its belly, inside which lay a dozen lizardmen guards from the caravan.
The creature resembled a massive truck traversing the desert, laden with goods and accompanied by its staff, following a predetermined route.
This path ran alongside the Nightzmora Highway, seemingly aware of the dangers within.
The lizardmen drove their camels deliberately to avoid the area affected by the Nightzmora Dream's radiation.
Behind the towering camel-beast, five dusty sand vehicles followed.
Who would have thought that these now dilapidated-looking sand vehicles were almost as good as new just a week ago?
Initially, the camel-beasts trained by the lizardmen would glance curiously at the vehicles trailing them, but they soon lost interest.
A day earlier, the lizardmen caravan had formed a partnership with Rhine Lab, thanks to Garde's help.
Rhine Lab had used the dragon corpse that Garde had slain and a rearview mirror from one of the sand vehicles to barter with the lizardmen for local water, food, and the right to travel with the caravan.
In the Hotland, caravans sometimes travel together, but more often, they choose to journey alone.
This is because an unfamiliar caravan can mean danger; you can never be sure if the caravan you're traveling with is truly a caravan or a band of robbers disguised as one.
The dragon corpse was originally Garde's spoils of war, purchased by Rhine Lab, with payment to be settled upon reaching their destination.
However, even before reaching the end, Saria silently calculated the potential payment Garde might demand for this mission, and couldn't help but sigh.
If it were just an ordinary guide fee, even if it took a month or two in another location, it might only amount to several hundred thousand Columbian dollar.
But entering a dangerous place like the Hotland surely demands extra pay: double for dangerous areas, triple for war zones, provided the employer can guarantee the guide's safety.
Yet, after so many days, instead of protecting Garde, they had been saved by him several times.
What Garde had done alone was worth the work of several mercenary groups.
How much does it cost to hire a mercenary group?
Does Rhine Lab even have that much liquidity left?
If Garde knew that Rhine Lab was on the brink of bankruptcy, would he still be willing to become the Director of their defense department?
Saria leaned back in the car seat, unable to shake the images from her dreams from her mind.
Because Garde was there, she didn't need to worry about all those messy things and could focus solely on her research.
Come to think of it, she wasn't that young anymore.
Saria pursed her lips; she had never considered finding a partner because, in her mind, emotions were just an objective cause-and-effect relationship, merely the behavior logic formed by humans packaging selfishness.
Was the life she had in her dreams, what she was pursuing, and what she was thinking now just because she believed getting Garde to join Rhine Lab would be beneficial for the company?
If so, she shouldn't hesitate at all.
If becoming partners with Garde would benefit Rhine Lab, then from both subjective and objective perspectives, she shouldn't resist such a move.
She didn't dislike Garde, and Garde probably didn't dislike her either.
As long as that's the case, it should be enough.
Objectively, that was the case, but subjectively, Saria found herself resisting the idea.
Was it because they were different species?
Because Garde said he wanted to marry two wives?
Hmm, was that really the point?
Saria didn't think so.
She felt she was using Garde, exploiting his kindness and innocence.
Thinking this, Saria couldn't help but glance out the window.
Garde was sitting on the roof of one of the sand vehicles, but he wasn't alone—Carnelian and Surtr were with him.
Carnelian made sense, but where had Garde found this Surtr, a Sarkaz?
Saria remembered yesterday when Garde brought Surtr back. If not for the massive sword Surtr carried on her back, she wouldn't have believed Surtr was a trained combatant.
At this moment, Garde was using his back to block the wind while Carnelian used Originium Arts to control some sand, teaching Carnelian and Surtr Columbian.
"I get it!" Surtr said, placing her massive sword horizontally on her back, mimicking Garde as she sat cross-legged on the roof, arms crossed, nodding. "In Columbia, 'hello' is a way of greeting!"
Surtr felt like she was recalling something.
Had she been to Columbia before?
Skyscrapers, police stations, interrogation rooms... As Surtr's thoughts wandered, a large hand landed on her head, ruffling her hair.
"What are you doing?" Surtr glared at Garde's hand, dissatisfied. "I'm not a child!"
"Sorry, I couldn't help it, couldn't help it. It's your fault for zoning out."
"I'll forgive you this time, but if you do it again, I'll make you taste Laevatain!"
"Laevatain couldn't hurt me."
Garde's words hit Surtr's sore spot.
Although she didn't want to admit it, right now, the crocodile man in front of her was indeed stronger.
Perhaps because of the many fragments of memory in her mind, Surtr learned Columbian quickly.
In just one afternoon, she had mastered most of Columbia's daily language.
In comparison, Carnelian, a native of Sargon, was progressing much more slowly.
Watching Garde and Surtr flirting with each other (from Carnelian's perspective), Carnelian couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.
She quietly scooted closer to Garde, leaning against his hand, and asked earnestly, "Garde, how do you pronounce this word?"
"Oh, this word is pronounced 'oh.'"
Garde's foreign language class was now in full swing, though for now, it only had two students, Carnelian and Surtr. But soon enough, the number of students would surely grow!
Crack!
The handle of the sand vehicle's door was crushed in Saria's grip, startling the operator beside her.
"D-Director Saria?"
"Hmm, this door handle's quality is too poor; it's a second-hand car after all," Saria replied, expressionless.
Looking at the shattered door handle in her hand, Saria fell silent.
She had once published a paper in university arguing that emotional outbursts were meaningless and didn't solve problems, and that losing judgment because of emotions was foolish.
But why...
The journey continued in silence, and after a week's trek, the camel-beast and the caravan finally arrived at their destination—a lizardman settlement established on the Hotland.
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