Time Since Reckless Self-Endangerment: 1 Days 20 Hours

Goal: Kill 'Baby Boots'

The dim light of the silver sphere that had ‘popped’ from the sand devil’s corpse illuminated Nic as he lay on the ground. Cuts covered almost every inch of his body in cooling blood, rapidly turning sticky and half-dried as he breathed slowly in and out.

That had been too close.

He was just considering closing his eyes when the chime of a System message sounded in his mind.

A Quest is Bestowed: “Blood-Soaked Sands”

Logos created the Sand Devils when his weapons of war distorted common creatures to terrifying new forms. Now, an interloper studies this transformation and attempts to improve on it. This heretical research must be ended.

Destroy the Ascended Sand Devils (1/6)

(Optional) Slay the Heretic (0/1)

Rewards- Moonseal Credit and Spatial Pillar Credit.

Ascended? Nic turned his head towards the fallen sand devil’s skull and called on Archive Recall.

Ascended Sand Devil. F-Class (Aberration) // Demisentient. Despite being a cursed existence with no ability to cultivate, this being has been forcibly implanted with Essence and a warped Shard to advance it along the Path of the Great Chain. Slaying such a tortured being is a mercy.

Nic blinked slowly. His brain was working slowly under the fog of bloodloss but- this seemed well above his paygrade.

“Sofia? How are those things so strong if they can’t cultivate?”

“Logos and the Low Tomb have fought many wars. He is powerful, but even his actions have consequences. The aberrations are a class of beings created by his own weapons. Native species warped by a glancing exposure to the destructive power of Logos. They don’t need to cultivate, because their origin is already one of death and destruction.”

Nic closed his eyes and imagined. Logos’ power turned towards war…

This world hadn’t even been able to resist. Integration was just a kind of game played with unimaginable powers and resources. But some planets could fight back. Some even rivaled Logos in power, and that was unacceptable. The march of the Low Tomb going to war was said to shake the earth and turn the skies red.

What kind of weapon had created these sand devils?

And who would want to make them deadlier?

Lying back he circulated his Essence. Slowly his shallower wounds filled in and the deeper cuts scabbed over, leaving his body covered in clotted red gashes. By the time he felt ready to stand up several hours had passed.

Looking around Nic saw he was in a long, dusty hall. Dozens of ships carved out of stone sat in the sand that had built up across the floor over decades. Their masts, rigging, and every other part that wasn’t cast from stone had rotted away, leaving the hulls stranded and useless.

The silver sphere still floated overhead. Touching it, Nic was surprised to see a thin sheet of bronze hammered with crude pictures appear in the starry haze that sprung out of the popped sphere.

Plate of the Sun God’s Dictate. F-Class // Treasured Artifact. This inscribed bronze plate is one of six making up the Book of the Day’s Zenith, a powerful cultivation manual. It can be drawn from to summon a barrier of daylight that can stop deadly attacks and is especially strong against evil magics. The power of this barrier grows with each plate you collect.

A cultivation tome? Nic licked his lips. Every orphan dreamed of being a true cultivator. Of bursting forth with so much talent and potential they were adopted by a sect. Learning secret arts. Casting down their childhood bullies with casual blows.

Of course he’d dreamed of learning secrets from an ancient book of cultivation.

Moving to stow the plate in his pack, Nic realized it was in a sorry state. The whole thing had been torn apart by the claws of the sand devils.

With a sigh he set about searching for something to mend the breaches with. As he wandered deeper he realized this cavernous room wasn’t just a warehouse for ships- they had been built here. Huge oak cradles held the remains of half-finished ships that would never be completed. Stone statues that might once have been golems littered the sandy floor.

Exploring inside the ships, Nic found each had a small cabin as well as a lower bay for cargo. In the latter there were jars of dried honey and long-rotted grain. In the former he found rusted weapons, books that had been reduced to dust, and in one case, a tarnished golden chain holding a single emerald. That last one he kept.

But the real prize was in a lonely tower at the very end of the room. It stood watching over the ships beside an enormous gate, and as Nic ventured up the dusty stairs he found a single skeleton lying by the enormous wheel that opened the doors.

A sack of blue and gold cotton hung by a belt around its waist. He leaned down and slowly slid it over the decaying bones. It was still soft and untouched by the years.

His hands almost shook. He already knew what he’d found.

And as he laid hands on it there was an electric shiver and a sharp chiming noise.

Mystic Bag. Astral // Treasured Artifact. Created by Logos as gifts for his soldiers, these bags can magically contain up to 500 pounds while weighing as little as a feather, and fit any object smaller than five feet across into the astral space within.

“Yesssss. Mine.” Another step towards being the cultivator he’d dreamed of.

Within was a waterskin, compass, a small brass dagger, and a tiny model of a ship covered in runes. Experimentally pouring aura into the ship, Nic immediately had the sense of trying to move an ocean with a bucket. The little ship simply demanded more energy than he had to give.

Ironically, the waterskin could have easily been more valuable than the miniature ship- but it was empty. Not a drop of water within.

Returning to shovel the contents of his broken pack into his new and magical sack, Nic studied the map carved within the teleportation circle. It was a shame he hadn’t managed to bring another one of the marbles through with him- he had just now realized the long brass poles represented the floating islands above the earth.

If he’d teleported to one of them he would have plenty of water and no worries about the sun.

As it was he couldn’t tell quite where he was. There were two compounds on the map that might have been this massive shipyard, and they were both on opposite sides of the massive face where the humans had set their camp.

“Any idea where I am?” He asked the golem head as he prepared to drop it into the bag.

“Yo- u are in the de- sert.” It said helpfully.

With a sigh, Nic stowed his new companion away and set out.

---

The first hour of the march wasn’t so bad. The sun was low, the morning air was only faintly warm, and Nic trudged across the sand with hope in his eyes.

But with each hour the sun rose higher. Two hours and the once-pleasant heat had become a constant prickle against his back. Three and the sand bad begun to soak up the warmth, turning hot underfoot like he was trekking across the surface of an enormous frying pan. Four..

Four hours in Nic no longer felt properly alive. He trudged forward on instinct putting one foot in front the other. The sun sapped him of strength and of thought. His skin peeled from his sunburnt back.

He paused to stare at a jagged stone rising from the sands. The black surface radiated heat in wavering distortions of overcooked air, and the surface was scrawled with golden lines.

They seemed incomplete somehow. They ran to the rock’s edge and stopped dead.

He looked forward. There was another boulder in the distance of the same flinty, grey-black color.

The sudden hope put some spring back into Nic’s step as he rushed forward. Sure enough, the next stone was covered in golden marks as well, and Nic stepped to the side, carefully lining the both up in his perspective. As the two halves of the design fit together they flared and his sight suddenly doubled, as if the world had gained whole new levels of depth.

Peregrine Rune Uncovered

200 Essence awarded.

While at the vantage point, all perceptions will be massively increased.

Nic looked out towards the horizon- and groaned in horror.

A distant speck of grey in the far distance was now clearly visible as the stone face of the Tutelary Statue. He had been marching the wrong way for hours. Turning, he looked out into the desert and saw nothing. It extended for miles past this point without a single feature beyond rolling dunes.

This was the edge of the Dungeon.

The stones were a final warning to turn back.

---

The second march was even more hellish than the first. The sun had reached its zenith by the time Nic crossed back to where he’d started, and as he trudged on beyond, the heat was all but unbearable. All the sweat and moisture his body could produce was gone; his skin was viciously cracked and bleeding under the sun’s harsh oppression. Strange pains had started in his guts, the first signs of violent dehydration.

He felt wrung out and empty.

And his new friends weren’t helping.

Spirits of fire surrounded him, circling around him on all sides. They were like tiny winged people contained in blots of orange fire, and they had the power to summon mirages.

He found out the hard way. An oasis appeared as he crested a hill, and Nic burst into joyous laughter as he rushed down and threw himself into the waters- only to find them disappearing beneath him.

He groaned, hands clutching the dirt, and the laughter of the fire-spirits filled his ears. He swiped at them but they evaded easily and laughed all the harder.

There was no choice. He ignored them and trudged on, trying not to look at the water, sumptuous feasts, the gold and treasures they conjured up from the burning desert air. Head held high, he marched past the riches of empires and enough water to drown a whale.

And when he saw the ship, Nic assumed that was an illusion too.

It cut across the distant horizon, sailing over the dunes. A black sail caught the sunlight and strange trails of blue light traced from its engines as it roared across the sand.

Nic only realized it was real when the spirits fled away.

It was moving on a path that would take it close to him- but not close enough. The ship hovered a few feet above the desert, flying. It was crewed by humans, their features hazy in the rising mirage.

With no other choice, Nic climbed to the top of the dune. Every step was torture and the sliding of the sand underfoot made him feel like he was making no progress at all. Reaching the heights, he lifted his hands and began to wave, calling out.

“I’m here! Here!”

The distant flash of a telescope caught the sun. The ship began to turn towards him.

But Nic was wrong. They weren’t humans at all.

Tusk-mouthed elves leapt down from the sides. Their lithe, elegant bodies and tanned-dark skin were covered by curling blue tattoos. The leader laughed, calling out.

“You know friend, with that pink skin of yours we thought you might be human!”