Uslan scanned the surroundings with a troubled look.
It had been three days since they left the dungeon, tracking the Black Queen. Yet not once had they found a trace that could be hers.
It wasn’t for lack of effort.
They had scoured the desert as if dragging a net across the bottom of a lake. Still, not even a glimpse of the Black Queen’s tail.
The records said her tail was over ten meters long.
A beast that massive could not move without leaving some sign. Yet no trace of her could be found anywhere.
Uslan turned to Corin.
“Is this even possible? Did we miss something?”
“Then why haven’t we found her?”
“That… I cannot say.”
“This complicates things.”
“I’m sorry. It is my failing.”
Corin bowed his head in shame.
He was a ranger, after all. To be unable to track the Black Queen left him humiliated.
Jupiro asked carefully.
“Captain, what now? We can’t just wander the desert blindly forever, can we?”
“Why not head straight to El Harun? If the legends are true, then she must have gone there too.”
The records claimed the Black Queen could absorb her victim’s thoughts and memories. If so, she would know El Harun’s location by now.
Having sorted his thoughts, Uslan gave his order.
“We return directly to El Harun.”
“…And that one goes with us?”
Corin glanced at Zeon. But Uslan’s reply was firm.
“I said I will brook no dissent.”
At Uslan’s cold words, Corin bit his lip and fell silent.
He withdrew, glaring sharply at Zeon.
But Zeon pretended not to notice.
Corin was the least of his concerns.
He didn’t yet know exactly what the Black Queen was. But if even a man like Uslan was this wary, she could not be ordinary.
And more than that, Zeon’s instincts screamed trouble.
If left unchecked, something disastrous was bound to happen.
I’ll have to postpone returning to Neo Seoul a little longer.
He had come seeking the Red Locust swarm, yet now he was bound for El Harun.
Of course he worried about Brielle and Levin, but they were clever enough to handle themselves.
“Let’s go. We must reach El Harun before she does.”
The men fell in line behind him.
Zeon followed at the rear.
Not all deserts were alike.
Depending on latitude and longitude, their faces changed.
Some stretched vast and flat, seas of sand. Others split into gaping canyons like the mouths of monsters. Still others birthed sudden volcanoes, belching smoke into the sky.
Now, Uslan’s company and Zeon were passing such a place.
A massive black volcano rising from the heart of the desert sea.
White smoke drifted from its peak and base.
It stood proud and terrible, as though ready to erupt at any moment.
The group halted instinctively, overwhelmed by its presence.
Uslan glanced at Zeon.
“We call that volcano Pankrena.”
“In the Ashil tongue—it means ‘Wrath of God.’”
Pankrena had erupted after the Great Cataclysm.
The explosion had been so powerful it overturned the desert, reshaping the land entirely.
Its influence had turned all the surrounding sand pitch black.
Unlike the warm orange glow of other deserts, its grains were larger, rougher.
Zeon bent down, scooping a handful.
It was coarse, heavier than usual—but still no problem for him to wield.
For a sand mage, that was all that mattered.
Corin and the others, ignorant of his nature, watched him suspiciously.
“What’s he find so special about sand? It’s everywhere.”
“I can’t stand him. And now we’re dragging the bastard to El Harun? What is the captain thinking?”
Shaping muttered agreement.
Since losing his arm, Shaping had grown irritable—especially toward humans.
If not for Uslan’s power restraining him, he would already have attacked Zeon.
But Zeon ignored their snarls.
It was the way of cowardly dogs to bark.
The truly dangerous ones wasted no time barking—they bit.
By Zeon’s measure, these men weren’t even dogs. Hardly worth his notice.
To reach El Harun, they would have to pass Pankrena.
It had lain quiet for over a century, but no one could say when it might awaken again.
So El Harun kept it under strict watch.
Proof of that came swiftly: elves and beastkin rangers appeared from nowhere, guardians of the volcano.
The Pankrena Rangers.
Three hundred strong, living in a village at the volcano’s base.
To El Harun, they were as vital as a magestone mine.
The eldest of them, a middle-aged elf, stepped forward.
“So you’ve returned.”
“Did you capture the traitor?”
His gaze swept the company, stopping at Zeon.
“…That one is not Derod.”
“Are you insane? You brought an outsider human here without permission?”
Tagol’s voice rose. But Uslan’s face did not so much as twitch.
“He aided us. And will again. That is why he travels with me.”
“Even so—you cannot bring a human here! If the higher council learns of this, they’ll never forgive you. No—*I* cannot let him pass.”
“Even if I vouch for him?”
“Apologies. You and yours must wait here. I will report to El Harun and seek approval.”
At Tagol’s cold decree, Uslan’s face hardened.
“Damn elves, again with this—”
“Aren’t you sick of it? Acting like lords of the land, when you crossed over from Kurayan the same as we did?”
“…What did you say, you bastard?”
Tagol bristled, and his rangers laid hands on their hilts.
Jupiro’s comrades tensed in answer. Even Corin and Shaping, hostile though they were to Zeon, could not betray their unit. Follow current novels on novel•fire.net
Both sides stood on the brink.
Like the volcano itself, ready to erupt.
And then—Zeon stepped forward, hands raised.
“No need to fight over me. I don’t mind waiting here.”
But Uslan’s reply was ice.
“Zeon. This isn’t about you. It’s about me. If I keep letting them slight me, they’ll never stop.”
His voice carried killing intent.
Uslan lived for El Harun, but even he had limits.
Before, he could bear such provocations. Now, the insults had gone too far.
“Tagol. Do you want to die that badly?”
Red light glimmered in Uslan’s eyes—the aura of bloodlust.
Tagol’s heart lurched.
He had only meant his usual provocations. But this reaction was different.
In the past, Uslan would have brushed it aside. Today, he stood on the edge of violence.
If it came to blood, the Rangers’ numbers meant little. Uslan and his men had proven themselves too many times.
Tagol swallowed and forced a smile.
“Calm yourself, Captain Uslan. No need to rage over something so small.”
“Ah—I misspoke. Fine. If you vouch for him, I’ll allow the human through. But you must stay here tonight.”
“It’s not my choice. It’s the council’s. Their rules have changed. All returning forces must rest here one night before reentering El Harun.”
“I have the order here.”
Tagol drew a scroll from his robe, showing the council’s seal.
“Yes. So please, remain as the others do. Another caravan has returned as well—they too wait here. Stay the night, and we will host you properly, as apology.”
“Keep your hospitality. Just don’t chain my feet.”
Tagol’s laugh was forced.
Uslan didn’t like it—but council orders left him no choice.
What is the council thinking, with such orders?
Of all the bodies he knew, the council was the least efficient.
They often issued commands that made no sense to him. Yet he had no power but to obey.
“Listen well. Tonight, we stay. Tomorrow, we head to El Harun.”
Weapons were sheathed, the men stepping back.
So too did Tagol’s rangers sigh in relief.
“Take them to quarters.”
One ranger led the group to their lodgings.
The barracks were built of volcanic stone, bleak and dark.
And outside, Zeon noticed—dozens of bactrian camels and wagons.
“So that must be the caravan that arrived first.”
Passing the wagons, Zeon saw a group gathered in the open, sharing a meal.
His gaze fell on one among them—
A beautiful elf, black hair flowing, gray eyes gleaming.