POV: Rudeus Greyrat
Rudeus woke up with a burning sensation on his skin, the scorching desert heat almost making him lose consciousness again. A deep pain coursed through his entire body, as if he were being crushed by a giant boulder. His muscles were tense, and he could barely move. He blinked, trying to focus, and that was when he saw Sylphy, unconscious by his side. Her hair, once greenish, was now whitish, almost silver.
With difficulty, he tried to move, which only intensified the pain, but he managed to get closer to Sylphy. He looked at her, her face still pale and marked with burns, and a small crater surrounded them, formed by something—perhaps their fall. He decided to wake her up. Sylphy couldn't stay like this, unconscious, in the middle of this hell.
"Sylphy..." he murmured, almost without strength, as he ran his hand through her hair, feeling the rough texture of the sand.
She stirred slightly but didn't wake up. Rudeus tried again, now with more urgency, shaking her shoulders a little. "Sylphy, wake up!"
Finally, she slowly opened her eyes, gasping, as if waking from a nightmare. She brought a hand to her head, confused, and when she saw Rudeus, she embraced him tightly, her breathing heavy and her eyes welling with tears.
"Rudy... where are we? What happened?" She was visibly frightened, her body sweaty, her skin irritated by the scorching heat, with subtle burns scattered across her face.
Rudeus hugged her back for a moment, trying to comfort her, but a feeling of despair began to rise within him, mixing with the pain and unbearable heat. He pulled away, trying to look around, trying to understand their situation. The sight before him was an endless desert, dunes stretching as far as the eye could see, with no signs of life, no shade to take refuge in.
"I... I'm not sure," he answered in a hoarse voice. "But if I'm right, we're in a very dangerous place. A place full of monsters that... that we can't even dream of facing."
Sylphy looked around, her eyes wide with surprise and fear. "But... what about everyone in Buena Village? What happened to them?"
Rudeus closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. "I don't know, Sylphy. They could be anywhere now. You have to trust me—I'll get us back home. I swear I will."
Sylphy, still teary-eyed, nodded, wiping her tears. "I trust you, Rudy."
He smiled, a forced smile, and then stood up, feeling the pain spreading through his muscles. He looked at the horizon again, trying to process everything. If that Human God wasn't lying, they must be in the Begaritt Continent. Master Roxy always spoke of this place as the second most dangerous, only losing to the Demon Continent. And he knew that if they didn't find help soon, death would only be a matter of time.
"Sylphy, this is probably going to be really tough, but we need to stay calm," Rudeus said, still gazing at the horizon. "Right now, we have to look for civilization. If we don't find anyone, the monsters will be the least of our problems. We'll starve."
He thought for a moment, an idea crossing his mind. Or maybe... maybe we could hunt the monsters? The Human God told me to make it rain... but how could that help us?
But before he could dwell on it any longer, he looked at Sylphy, who seemed to have composed herself a bit. "Sylphy, let's get moving. We need to find a town. Cover yourself with your hood—we can't afford to get heatstroke."
Sylphy, still somewhat confused, looked at him with slightly lost eyes. "Heatstroke?"
Rudeus gave a crooked smile, remembering that she was still just a child. "It's what happens when we stay in the sun for too long. Come on, don't worry—we'll get through this."
They started walking, the sun burning even more intensely. The sand wrapped around them as they cautiously moved forward, each step heavy and exhausting. Rudeus kept his wand ready, prepared to face anything that appeared at any moment, since any monster that showed up would be yet another threat to their survival. But for now, their greatest enemy seemed to be the desert itself.
---
The sun remained merciless in the scorching sky of Begaritt, burning everything in its reach. After hours of wandering aimlessly through the dunes, Rudeus felt every muscle in his small body begging for rest. Even though he had healed both his and Sylphy's wounds, exhaustion was inevitable. He might have been talented in magic, but at the end of the day, his body was still that of a mere seven-year-old child.
Beside him, Sylphy was in an even worse state. Her face was red from the intense heat, her steps were wobbly, and her breathing was uneven. Rudeus felt a pang of concern. If they kept going like this, they wouldn't survive much longer. He reflected on the Human God's advice. "Make it rain and build a house of stone." The suggestion seemed strange, but at the moment, it was the only lead he had.
Determined, he stopped and gripped his wand, raising it to the sky. "Sylphy, I'm going to make it rain," he warned, his voice hoarse from thirst.
She lifted her eyes to him, surprised, but didn't question it. She just hugged herself, trying to keep the heat at bay.
Rudeus took a deep breath and began casting his most powerful magic silently, focusing solely on the feeling. "Cumulonimbus!"
The clear sky darkened rapidly. Heavy, dark clouds formed above them, bringing a welcome coolness to the relentless desert. Within seconds, thick raindrops began to fall, splashing onto the hot sand and creating small clouds of steam. Sylphy widened her eyes as she felt the rain wet her face.
"This is incredible...!" she murmured, astonished.
She had never seen Saint-level magic before. In that moment, even with all the exhaustion, a smile appeared on her face. Feeling the cold water on her dried skin was an indescribable relief. Rudeus, however, was already focused on his next spell.
Using chantless magic, he shaped the ground around them, raising a solid stone structure. It wasn't elaborate, but it would be enough to shield them from the storm he had created. Once inside, he looked at Sylphy, whose wet hair now appeared as white as snow. With a gentle touch, he dried her damp strands with a soft wind spell.
"Get some rest, Sylphy. I'll keep watch," he said.
She hesitated, but exhaustion won. Too tired to resist, she leaned against Rudeus's shoulder and quickly fell asleep. The boy looked at her for a moment, feeling his sense of responsibility grow even stronger. He had promised to take her back home. No matter what it took—he would keep that promise.
Without realizing it, he also fell asleep, his mind and body finally giving in to exhaustion.
A shrill and excited voice abruptly tore him from his rest.
"HEY, HEY! Isn't it dangerous to sleep in the middle of the desert?!"
Rudeus' eyes snapped open, and his hand instinctively reached for his staff… but it wasn't there.
"What…?"
He looked up and saw a man holding his staff with a playful expression. The stranger had dark skin and long, curly hair, partially covered by a bandana. His face bore a wide, mischievous grin, and one of his eyes was hidden beneath an eyepatch. He wore metal necklaces and bracelets, and his clothes were disheveled, as if they had been thrown on carelessly. The most intimidating thing about him was the arsenal he carried on his waist: a scimitar, a short sword, daggers, and other smaller blades, all looking razor-sharp.
Sylphy shrank behind Rudeus, clutching his tunic tightly. He could feel her trembling but remained calm.
"What are two kids doing alone in the desert?" the man asked in the Fighting God language, his tone casual but with a gleam of curiosity in his eyes.
Rudeus frowned. He didn't understand the language.
"I don't speak your language," he responded cautiously.
The man blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh.
"You're from the Central Continent? Hah! Now I'm even more curious." He switched to the Human Language with impressive fluency. His grin widened.
Rudeus kept his defensive posture, not looking away. "Who are you?"
The man twirled Rudeus' staff between his fingers and returned it with a quick motion, as if it were a toy. "I'm Larax. A part-time assassin and the leader of the mercenary group Tyrant Storm."
Rudeus blinked. "...What?"
Larax crossed his arms, evaluating the children before him. "And it's decided! You two are now provisional members of Tyrant Storm!"
Rudeus' jaw dropped. "What?!"
---
In the Milis Continent.
The office was a vast and imposing room, filled with luxurious details that highlighted the wealth and power present there. The walls were covered with finely embroidered tapestries, and golden columns supported a ceiling artistically painted with scenes from Milis' sacred history.
The polished marble floor reflected the light of the ornate chandeliers, while a massive stained-glass window behind the main chair cast multicolored light across the room. Shelves filled with ancient tomes and sacred relics lined the sides of the chamber, and in the center, a mahogany table with gold detailing separated the two men present.
Seated in an ornate chair with blue velvet upholstery was Harry Grimoire, the current Pope of the Milis Religion. His face was wrinkled with age, but his expression remained serene and calculating. He wore ceremonial robes embroidered in gold, with a staff resting beside the table. On the other side, standing rigidly with a stern expression, was Galgard Nash Venick, his posture exuding impatience.
Crossing his arms and furrowing his brows, Galgard spoke firmly:
"It doesn't matter what kind of feats he has supposedly accomplished. Most of them might just be fabrications. I accused him of massacring the innocent at the Joylore estate, and he didn't deny it. He is a threat, Your Holiness."
Harry remained silent for a moment, his fingers interlocked on the table as he pondered. Then, in a measured and controlled tone, he replied:
"Have you considered that the fact he didn't deny it might actually be a good thing? Didn't he seem guiltless to you?"
Galgard's brow furrowed, his face showing clear displeasure.
"That is irrelevant. Only the facts matter."
Harry sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair before continuing:
"According to our reports, he had some outbursts in the Great Forest but managed to control them after the age of six. His indiscriminate slaughter is undoubtedly a terrible crime, but the Iron Legion he commands represents a turning point in history. Most of the tribes in the Great Forest have already joined this organization. It won't be long before the Great Forest becomes a unified force."
Galgard's expression hardened, but he remained silent, listening as the Pope continued:
"Moreover, he accepts all races without discrimination. In the Iron Legion, there are beastmen, humans, dwarves, elves, and even demons, all fighting under the same banner. Isn't that exactly what the Acceptance Faction has been striving for all this time?"
Galgard kept his gaze fixed on the Pope, his fists clenched. Harry, noticing his hesitation, decided to touch on an even more sensitive topic:
"Cardinal Leblanc McFarlane claims that one of his priests had a dream where he was warned by Saint Milis himself about this attack. He didn't believe it before, but now he does. According to his visions, Rygar will completely eradicate Milis. If he manages to convince his faction of this, and you are not there to intervene, it could be the spark that ignites a war between the Church and the Iron Legion. What could have been an opportunity for change might end up bringing only blood and death. Isn't preventing that exactly what your Order of Instruction seeks to achieve?"
Galgard remained motionless for a few seconds, reflecting. He took a deep breath, his mind replaying the moment when Rygar's sword was pointed at him, imbued with that unknown-classification spell. He couldn't deny the sense of danger he had felt. Finally, he broke the silence:
"I will prevent them from starting a war. But keep one thing in mind, Your Holiness…"
He raised his gaze, his expression resolute.
"You tried to negotiate with them and were willing to start partnerships. He ignored that and attacked Milis directly."
He paused before continuing.
"The Joylore family was a disgrace, but not sparing the servants and children in the mansion is something utterly dishonorable. I don't entirely dismiss the possibility that he truly is the threat that will destroy Milis. If he directs his aggression here again… I will not hesitate to kill him. No matter what he represents."
He turned and began walking away, stopping midway to speak without turning back.
"Besides, Linstar Joylore's children and wife left the house before the attack. They won't sit idly by."
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