The night wind whipped fine grains of sand from the tops of the dunes, spinning them into slender whirlwinds that seemed determined to stuff the pesky dust under the clothing of the travelers walking the main trade route.
A line of camels, laden with heavy bales, moved with a steady gait towards the capital of their kingdom—the City of Seven Challenges.
Illuminated by the light of thousands of stars and two moons, the people yawned repeatedly, mentally hoping to reach the oasis on their path as soon as possible.
"Tsk, if the Boss weren't so greedy, we wouldn't have to walk through the night. I told him we should have set off much earlier," grumbled one.
"Ah, come on, stop complaining. So what, a couple of extra hours without slee-eep," the speaker ended his phrase with a sweet yawn.
"Ramil, you shouldn't be so careless! We're walking at night into the very heart of the desert! Haven't you heard of the settlement of the silent ghosts? They say they periodically emerge from that cursed place that won't let them fully leave this mortal world and wander the desert searching for victims, robbing caravans like ours, and slaughtering the escorts so thoroughly that not even remains are found."
The storyteller gave the stout young man an expressive look and continued:
"Once, the Sultan got so fed up with it that he hired several masters from renowned schools. But none of those who went to exorcise the unclean ever returned. Rumor has it that this village is protected by a white-haired demon who guards the gates to the spirit world..."
"Ha-ha-ha, there you go again with your repertoire," laughed another young man leading a camel slightly ahead of the speakers. "No, just listen to him! Ghost thieves! A demon! You're lying again! Oh, Ramil, don't listen to him. No matter which country we go to, he's always going on about some demons and their lackeys. Sure, robbers attack caravans, yes. But they're quite tangible, nothing ghostly about them. With proper preparation, you can handle them. It's no wonder the Boss hired an active master from the Ghostly Plains School of Virdis. And we are on the main trade route. Bandits haven't been seen here for ages, let alone demons, ha-ha."
At that moment, a voice with a slight rasp came from behind them, closer to the end of the caravan:
"In your place, I wouldn't be so flippant about demons, even if we have an active Master among us. Or do you think I got this scar from a sunburn?"
Everyone involved in the conversation, and even those who had become unwilling witnesses, turned to look at the middle-aged man whose face was crossed by a fearsome scar. This man had joined them recently and rarely spoke on the journey, so it was very unexpected to hear even a single remark from him.
"And where did you get it?" Ramil asked interestedly.
"I think it's no secret to any of you that the underground slave trade still thrives."
At these words, everyone present shivered.
Caravan escorts were often people with less-than-clean pasts, but among them, those somehow connected to the trade of living cargo were rare. It was an extremely dangerous occupation, and no one could guarantee that in case of unforeseen circumstances, they themselves wouldn't end up in chains.
"As it may sound, a couple of years ago I was part of the escort for a shipment of slaves. A very unpleasant job, sure, but they pay generously in gold. I was deep in debt back then. If it weren't for my knowledge and skills, my wife and I would have been taken to the slave market ourselves. All we had to do was deliver a bunch of wretches under a maintained concealment array—a 'Desert Flower'—to the Vantodragar mountain range. We reached the midpoint, and it seemed like nothing was wrong... when He came." After the word "He," the speaker paused significantly, as if surrendering to terrible memories.
"Who, 'He'?" reminded the young man from the front.
"The Scarlet Demon of the East."
Everyone involved in the conversation, and even those who had inadvertently overheard, immediately fell silent, holding their breath.
"I remember it like it was yesterday. The sun had set, but darkness hadn't fully fallen yet. We stopped to catch our breath. The head guard went to check the concealment array I'd set up. The captives huddled together like sheep for slaughter—well, that's usual. They'd been walking all day—the old, women, children... all those who hadn't died on the road. And they're looking at me with these pleading eyes, and what could I do? My job was just to maintain the array with my energy—I was on the edge myself."
"And then, suddenly, the wind picked up. You know, a fresh breeze. Completely uncharacteristic for the lifeless desert. Our boss immediately tensed up, told his men to be on high alert, to look in all directions. But it was too late."
"A thick, blood-red fog had already filled the entire space—you couldn't see a thing. The array that I and a couple of other former students of the Path of Force School were struggling to maintain shattered in an instant, as if pierced by needles from all sides."
"And then the slaughter began. Real blood sprayed everywhere amidst the flashes of clashing weapons. At first, I couldn't make sense of the screams and yells; I just barely had time to use protective amulets—luckily I'd brought a few spares from my time studying energy subjugation—and fend off stray weapons with my sword. I never finished my training, so I didn't dive into the thick of the fight. I thought the military had found us and our group was fighting the enemy... until the fog cleared."
"I look—the prisoners are gone, as if they never were. The entire escort is lying there, feeding the eternal sand with their flesh. And He is standing right in front of me."
"My eyes went wide; I couldn't move—fear had me completely paralyzed."
"Nine demonic tails swirling upwards, hair flowing like fire in the wind, huge crimson eyes burning with black flames, and this horrible smile, like a predatory snarl. But what scared me even more was how the blood was streaming down his tridents, yet his clothes were clean, not a single stain. As if the Emperor himself from an Ancient lineage had come from the Netherworld personally for my soul. I'd already made my peace with this world, and then he suddenly stops smiling and says to me:"
"'Strange, your face seems familiar. Who gave you this sword?'"
"And I answer him, barely pushing the words out:"
"'My grandfather Maleus was a blacksmith once, at the court of the previous Emperor of Virdis. He forged this sword, then passed it down to me.'"
"Before I could even take a breath, the Demon was right in front of me. He looks into my eyes with his huge ones, as if peering into my soul."
"'You've taken a crooked path, disgraced your grandfather,' he says. 'You are not worthy to wear the face of such a good man.'"
"And then he slashes at me with his trident. I couldn't use any amulet or technique. He started dissolving into his fog and said as a final word that he'd spare me this time in memory of my grandfather, but if he ever caught me again, the Scarlet Demon would send me straight to the Netherworld for sure."
Everyone listened to the story very attentively, some holding their breath. When the scarred man finished, Ramil began:
"This Demon, He—"
"—He's not a demon per se, but a very much living person—" the one walking ahead suddenly interrupted, "—Many initiates into the affairs of the world of energy masters know that the Scarlet Demon of the East is the name used by—"
"Shhh!" people hissed at him from all sides, even those who hadn't participated in the conversation before.
"Don't utter that name! Or there will be trouble!"
"Pff, what's the big deal? So what, Aki-no-Hiro-no-Ka, what's wrong with the name? 'Autumn Scarlet Flower' scared you?" grumbled the young man, displeased that so many had turned on him at once.
At that moment, a bright flash of lightning tore across the perfectly clear starry sky, splitting it from horizon to horizon. Accompanied by a peal of thunder from its immeasurable depths, it hurled something towards the earth's surface. To all witnesses of this mystical phenomenon, it seemed a falling star was descending upon them from the heavenly halls.
At the sight of this, even the loaded camels, accustomed to various surprises on the road, stopped abruptly. Snorting loudly, they began to look around anxiously, trying to veer off the path. Poorly secured cargo immediately tumbled onto the loose sand, raising pillars of dust.
"Fool! We're all doomed! The Ancients will punish us all now for mentioning the name of a living Demon!" wailed the man who had started the whole conversation, clutching his head.
Chaos ensued. Time seemed to slow down, demonstrating how the heavenly message gracefully descended from the celestial halls, trailing a stunningly beautiful wake that flooded the space with a golden radiance.
Only those with enhanced vision techniques could make out anything more detailed within this miracle.
"It seems we have witnessed the birth of something grand," said the man standing next to the Caravan Boss at the head of the column calmly, watching the celestial display. This was the very hired Master accompanying them on this crossing to the capital of the Desert Lands. His head was wrapped in cloth protecting his mouth, nose, and ears from fine sand, and from the exposed strip of his face, one could tell the bearer of the honorable title "Master" had already reached middle age.
"Truly. I've lived many years, but this is a first for me," here the Boss scowled and thundered with a voice amplified tenfold to overpower the frantic crowd of people and animals, "Alright, quickly! Calm the animals and gather everything you incompetents secured poorly! I'm watching each of you! If there's any shortage, you'll pay triple for the goods, you half-wits!"
The Boss's last words, amplified by a special technique, were drowned out by the rumble of the earth accepting the full impact of the revelation sent from the heavens, which at the climactic moment shattered into a countless number of sparks, illuminating everything for many kilometers around.
After this event, absolutely everyone fell silent. It seemed even the eternally shifting sand stopped rustling underfoot, and the wind itself held its breath, waiting for something.
Then the eyes of the Master escorting the column widened enormously as he stared into the distance where the celestial body had landed, and he shouted with all his might:
"Quickly, everyone form a straight line behind my back, as close as possible!"
Not everyone understood what had so frightened the Master, but his posture and voice were very convincing. Only a few moments later did the people of the not-so-large caravan see what had scared their chief protector—a WAVE was coming towards them in the middle of the desert! Made of sand, it was taller than the tops of most watchtowers.
Ignoring the frightened screams from behind, the Master cleared his mind completely and, raising his hands before him, traced several symbols, pouring into them the greater part of the subjugated energy he had channeled through his consciousness—energy he had long collected, striving to raise his mastery level to study the higher techniques of his school.
A wedge-shaped shield immediately rose before the Master, protecting the people on one side and ready to slice through the approaching disaster on the other, which didn't keep them waiting long.
The blow was so powerful that the Master, supporting the shield with his energy, staggered back and nearly lost control of their only chance of survival. If not for the support of the Boss who hired him—who was so frightened he suddenly remembered a few techniques he'd studied voluntarily in his youth—he surely wouldn't have held.
As the wave receded, the shield shattered into tiny pieces of dispersed energy, returning to its normal state.
Gasping heavily, the Master hurriedly looked around. The people and animals, except for one camel that had broken free, were unharmed, though heavily dusted with sand.
"Boss! How do we get out of here now?" asked one of the hired hands.
"Yeah, quite a situation..." was all the Boss could say, surveying the crater they found themselves in. "Right, don't slack off. Get into groups of three and help the camels climb back up the dunes. And be quick about it."
Then, turning to the thoughtful Master who was staring intently in the direction the wave had come from, he said:
"Whew, I thought that was it, the end of my wanderings in this world. Thank you for saving us."
The Master shook his head in response.
"Too early for thanks. You all get out of here; I'll go see what actually caused this."
"Oof, I'd be careful if I were you. Who knows who descended from the heavens upon us."
"I no longer sense any energy movement where It fell. If it was a Celestial or a Great Ancient, there's definitely no one alive there now. But in such places, you can often find useful items highly valued by alchemists for making talismans or potions. I'll be quick." With these words, he scaled the high slope of the dune in one step and was gone.
Shaking his head, the Boss scowled and began, with curses, to break up a fight between some young men who were brawling, arguing over which of them had brought disaster upon the caravan and would now have to compensate for the losses of the missing camel threefold.
Approaching the impact site of the celestial body, the Master smelled a strong odor of metal, burning, and something sweet.
Drawing closer, his eyes flew open in pleasant surprise at what he saw.
The explosion upon impact with the earth had created countless glassy shards that glittered brightly, reflecting the brilliantly shimmering golden radiance of an object at the very center of the resulting crater.
"I can't believe my eyes! What luck!" Without a second thought, the Master rushed down, slipping repeatedly on the scorched surface.
Stopping one step away, he hesitated for a moment, wondering if he would incur the wrath of the Higher Beings who had surely sent this item to earth.
For right before him, shimmering with iridescent hues, its point driven into the earth, was a sword with a gilded, slightly ornate, hilt. It was impossible to look away from the flawless emerald crowning the pommel. And the intricate patterns on the guard made him want to touch them with his own hands, forgetting all caution.
"Could I truly become the owner of such a rare artifact!" flashed through his mind.
As he leaned slightly closer, waves of melodious vibration spread from the sword—the purest, concentrated energy—making him freeze in admiration.
"It seems you truly were tempered in the halls of the Ancients. What unknown power you will bring to your owner!" the Master whispered in awe, reaching out his hand towards the hilt.
But then something barely perceptible flickered right before his eyes.
"W-wha—" The Master didn't have time to say anything before his outstretched arm was severed from his body.
For a moment, he stared uncomprehendingly at the bloody stump at his feet before horrific pain from the lost limb overwhelmed him.
Staggering back several steps, he fell to the ground and, clutching the bleeding stump, rolled around screaming in an inhuman voice.
Meanwhile, darkness condensed in the crater, like smoke from a fire.
Through this haze, only two glowing blue eyes with distinct vertical pupils were visible, looking down with cold contempt at the man writhing in agony.
"Do not dare touch my Honorable Sister with your defiled hands, trash."
Through the pain clouding his vision, the Master saw a silhouette dissolving in the dispersing haze, tenderly holding the stunning sword to its chest.
"The Demon took the Heavenly gift..." was all the maimed Master managed to say before losing consciousness.