The spirit had returned.

  A lot faster than Asher had expected. It was gone for no more than two hours yet Asher felt a long time had passed since he had seen it.

  However, the emotions that bloomed at that moment were not of relief.

  "Curses!"

  Asher spewed out words one after the other as if his soul had escaped his body.

  His fingers visibly trembled as his face went pale and his blood ran cold.

  “Y-you… Why did you come back?!”

  The spirit’s burning gaze swept over him, tracing his form from head to toe before it turned away, its outline flickering with rage.

  But before Asher could even breathe, it lashed out—an unseen force slammed against his face, the impact sharp and sudden. The world tilted as he stumbled back, sand scattering beneath his boots.

  "Wh—"

  Asher blinked a couple of times. The pain stung briefly, but something greater and more important took Asher's mind.

  His heartbeat started to calm down before again beating, this time with excitement.

  Asher raised a hand and touched his face.

  His face was moist...

  It really was moist!

  Asher gasped, feeling the wetness on his hand. He blinked a couple of times absentmindedly before looking at the spirit, who looked mad.

  Finally a smile bloomed over Asher’s face as he faced the spirit.

  "So you found water," he murmured, wiping his damp cheek with reverence. The spirit’s form pulsed with indignation—a dark ripple tearing through its shadowy core. It darted backward, then lunged forward to jab Asher’s shoulder hard enough to bruise.

  Asher tilted his head to the side and effortlessly took a step back.

  The spirit's jab missed. It froze mid-air, its form shuddering violently—a low buzz filling the silence like angry hornets trapped in glass. Asher grinned, brushing wet sand from his cheek. "Thanks," he said softly. "I meant it." The spirit hovered, motionless, as if weighing his sincerity against the desert’s endless deceit.

  "Now where is it?"

  The spirit didn't answer at once. It lingered in the air, motionless, before shaking.

  Asher frowned.

  "What do you mean by no?"

  Asher took a step closer. His eyes matched the spirit as he craned his head to look up.

  "You found water but now you say no? Are you lying?"

  The spirit shook violently—not a denial, but a ripple of frustration. Its shadowy form elongated toward the south, then retreated, repeating the motion like a hesitant compass needle. Asher tasted iron in his mouth; dehydration made his thoughts sluggish, but the dampness on his cheek was real. He wiped it again, savoring the grit mixed with moisture. "If you brought proof," he rasped, "show me the source. Or was this just a joke?"

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  Asher's face suddenly went pale, the color draining off in seconds as he rubbed his face hard with the back of his hand.

  "It was water, right? Nothing else, right? Hey, answer already.”

  The panic was evident as his face turned red.

  The spirit trembled as the air turned damp around it, cold and stiff. Then, as if a cold wind blowing from the forest of shadows hit his face, he heard a weird chuckle, forced but present.

  As if taking pity on his act, the spirit made the wind tremble, creating a sound.

  “Wa-t-er.”

  “Ah… that's good to know.”

  Asher nodded, his face visibly relaxing as his hand still lingered on his face.

  ‘I thought it was some monster's saliva… or blood.’

  Both could have been dangerous if they had been toxic.

  In any case, Asher could sigh in relief and look at the spirit with a cold glare. The spirit didn't back down either, as if finding the situation amusing.

  The stare lingered for a heartbeat too long before Asher looked away, pretending it was by choice. He hadn’t lost—definitely not because the spirit was unsettling, and certainly not because it was the only one who knew where the water came from.

  “Sigh, now will you tell me where I can find the water?“

  Asher asked, gesturing toward the dunes.

  The warm air fluttered as the harrowing voice of the spirit entered his ears.

  "Th-is w-ay."

  Only if I can pull my ears out... Asher pursed his lips and closed his eyes. The spirit had already started to move and Asher began to follow back.

  The spirit drifted southward, its form flickering like candle smoke in the wind. Asher trudged behind, boots sinking into dunes that shifted underfoot—each step a battle against the desert’s hunger. He counted his breaths, focusing on the damp patch on his cheek instead of the thirst clawing his throat. 'It’s real,' he told himself. 'It has to be.' Ahead, the spirit paused above a crescent-shaped depression, swirling impatiently.

  When Asher looked at the spirit it shivered up and down, as if telling him. 'Follow me fast! Why are you so slow.'

  Asher's lips twitched upward. as his gaze lingers on the small bud before nodding back.

  "Hmm, I am following; carry on."

  The spirit drifted forward. The sand dunes, white and polished with radiance, blinded Asher as he squinted his eyes. The sunlight was pressing closer on his skin; each passing moment made him much more exhausted than it was supposed to.

  Taking a deep breath, Asher halted in his steps, forgetting that previously he had seen a dead carcass of a giant monster, covered in red. However, that was not the reason he had stopped in his steps. It was something else, something much more dreadful.

  A long and wide sharp trail was drawn on the sand, cutting a path open, as if something had been dragged to the depths of the desert.

  Asher's gaze remained stuck on the site as he licked his lips before speaking.

  "Whatever was dragged couldn't fight back."

  This was concerning.

  Even the spirit flew back and stared at the land.

  Asher inhaled a cold breath and spoke with a small voice.

  “Does this happen a lot? Like, I am new here, but you seem to have been here since birth.”

  The spirit turned its gaze at his voice and jumped up and down.

  “I will take that as a yes.”

  Asher closed his mouth and started to walk again; luckily, they were walking on a path opposite to the large trench that had been created by dragging somebody.

  His footsteps felt heavier than usual. He couldn't help but glance back at the trench, his throat tightening at the thought of what creature could drag something that large. The spirit buzzed impatiently beside him, its form flickering with agitation. 'Focus,' it seemed to say without words. 'Water first,' Asher agreed, a small, thin smile appearing on his face. Asher agreed, a small, thin smile appearing on his face.

  Asher’s breath caught as his boots sank into the shifting sand, his pace quickening with every step. The spirit hovered behind him, slowing as if reluctant to approach what lay ahead. He pressed his left hand against his right wrist, ready to summon his blade at the faintest sign of danger.

  But then—something impossible.

  A flicker of green.

  His eyes widened, disbelief flashing through them. A single patch of color, vivid and alive, broke through the endless wasteland of ash and gold. Grass—real, fresh grass—swayed faintly against the wind.

  ‘No way…’

  He blinked hard, forcing his mind to stay sharp in case it was another mirage. But the image didn’t waver. His heart stayed calm, his will continued to push forward, and the world refused to distort before him.

  “It’s real,” he breathed, the words trembling in the dry air.

  Without hesitation, Asher broke into a run, sand scattering beneath his boots as he climbed the steep dune.

  And when he reached the top, the breath in his lungs fled him.

  A brilliant light poured over his face—warm, golden, and alive. His jaw slackened as his eyes widened in awe, the endless desert behind him falling away like a forgotten dream.

  But along with the dream came another nightmare; countless nightmarish fiends roamed below like ants surrounding the lake that reflected the large sun.