Demian slogged through the dunes like every step was a fight against the sand and his own failing body. The mana core inside him pulsed weakly—a tiny spark that barely kept him moving as every muscle screamed in protest. He couldn't shake the memory of those insectoid bastards attacking him in small, relentless packs. The last encounter had left him with a deep, burning gash along his side—a brutal reminder that nothing in this godforsaken desert came easy.
Am I even going the right way?
Climbing a tall dune for a proper look was out of the question. Not only would that make him an easy target, but that giant sandworm lurking in the distance might just come after him if he made a sound. So he kept pushing forward, trusting nothing but his instincts and praying he wasn't making a fatal mistake. His injury has made him even more disoriented.
Hours passed—or maybe they just blurred together. The endless desert mocked him. His lips were as cracked as the dry ground, his throat raw, and every breath felt like swallowing fire. Still, there was no sign of shelter or even a hint of ruins.
Then, out of nowhere, a silhouette appeared on the horizon—a crumbling structure half-buried by time and sand. Relief hit him like a splash of cold water. His heart raced as he quickened his pace, imagining that those ruins might finally offer him some refuge from the brutal sun.
But as he got closer, something felt off. The ruins started to dance and shimmer in the heat, their outlines bending and warping like a mirage. No way… he muttered to himself, a sinking feeling in his gut. This wasn't salvation—it was just another cruel trick of the desert. He froze for a moment, the weight of his mistake nearly crushing him.
He was right about his doubt somewhere along the way he had gone astray from his path. And without somthing to anchor on it was no doubt that he had gone astray.
Lost demian sat down and started to brainstorm, something there has to be something that can be done.
Then, almost like a last-ditch miracle, his eyes caught a flash of green amidst the endless tan. At first, he thought it was another illusion, another cruel joke. But after a few moments of blinking and rubbing his tired eyes, it stayed put: an oasis, hidden like a secret treasure in the middle of nowhere.
A surge of cautious hope lit him up. There was no time to waste—the sun was creeping closer, and he knew it would be even worse when it rose. His body was screaming for water; his skin felt like it was on fire, and his cracked lips begged for relief. Still, he had no choice. If that oasis was real, it could be his ticket out of this nightmare.
As he drew nearer, the oasis started to feel more tangible. And then, with a sudden jolt, his foot hit something wet. Water—real, cool, life-saving water—was there. Demian couldn't help himself. He dropped to his knees, scooped up the precious liquid, and drank like his life depended on it. For a few blissful moments, the desert's cruelty faded into the background as a wave of euphoria washed over him.
But even that sweet relief couldn't last. As he caught his breath, his eyes shifted to the edge of the oasis, where he noticed something .There, partly hidden in the dim light, lay a massive reptilian creature. At first glance, it looked like a crocodile, but on closer inspection, it was way more than that. Its rough, mottled scales shimmered with a hint of iridescence—like some ancient, draconic hide. Small, backward-curving horns jutted from its snout, and along its spine, where you'd expect just a row of ridges, there were tiny, almost forgotten wing-like bumps hinting at a draconic relations. Its eyes closed, it seemed like it was resting .
Demian's thoughts raced. I remember reading about these things… he mused. The creature wasn't just there for decoration—it was guarding something.
These features these must be the work of something,And sure enough, right beside it was a cluster of weird, jelly-like fruit hanging from peculiar trees. Local legends called these treats "Dragon Candy." According to the old texts he'd skimmed through, dragons and sub-dragons loved these fruits; they were a symbol of power and vitality, devoured during sacred feasts. For anyone not of draconic blood, eating one was a total wild card. If luck was on your side, it might grant you a burst of strength, sharper senses, or some other random, mysterious boost. But there was no telling what you'd get.By looking at it's features ,It was clear the monster had eaten the fruit and survived .
Demian's heart pounded harder as he weighed his dwindling options. Here he was, on the edge of life and death, with his throat parched and his limbs aching, and now this draconic creature guardig the tree. The promise of that Dragon Candy was tempting—a chance, however risky, to turn his fortunes around. But he knew risking it straight would be akin to asking for death.
As the horizon started to glow with the first hints of dawn, Demian realized his next move could change everything. Standing there at the crossroads of hope and peril, he knew he had to decide fast. The oasis was a beacon of salvation, but it was also a gauntlet thrown down by fate itself.
Alright, time to make a choice. Do I risk it all for a chance ?
he thought, clenching his fists despite the pain. With the unpredictable promise of Dragon Candy hanging in the balance, Demian took a deep breath. In that charged moment, with a new day about to break over the desert, he braced himself for whatever came next.