32. Black Desert

Revel barely kept her footing as scorching winds lashed against her. The heat was unbearable. Hot sand slipped through the seams, burning her skin like small needles piercing her body.

Everything around her was dark, an endless stretch of black sand swallowing the horizon. The sun was unnaturally bright, the sand reflecting its light. And the heat. Scorching. The high wind drove the sand toward them.

Edrin was faring better. He had a cooling artifact and armor that the sand couldn’t get through. She’d already relied on it more than once. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure she would make it out of the dungeon alive.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t a dungeon they could handle.

The truth was, her party couldn’t. Clay and Dareth couldn’t. She wasn’t sure about Edrin, but they were only in the third room, and she was already reaching her limits. They were underprepared, and inside an undiscovered dungeon, probably mutated by the corruption. Dareth would have had a spell to deal with the heat, but… he wasn’t here. And it might have been her fault.

Did she let go of Clay?

She wasn’t certain, but she hoped her anger hadn’t caused it. If it had… she didn’t know what she would do with herself. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she realized they were separated. She kept trying to remember what happened after they entered the dungeon, but her memory was… blurred by her anger.

Stay alive.

“Stormfather, Shield of the Faithful, Keeper of the High Sky,” she whispered, her hands clasped near her heart. “Grant them the strength to overcome their trials.”

“Again?” Edrin asked. “Fourth time already. If the old gods were still around, the world wouldn’t be in this much chaos.”

“They are,” Revel said quietly. “If they weren’t, the North would already be gone.”

“Well, they’re not helping you here,” he spat. “Try the goddess.”

Revel was about to retort, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t like him to act that way, and Edrin wasn’t the type of noble to do so. His family was one of the few that supported the North with men and supplies in the fight against corruption. Count Armen Ashvale, his father, believed in both the goddess and the old gods. He denied it, but he was also a friend of her father. And she knew the truth.

Edrin’s outburst didn’t make sense. The dungeon was messing with their minds, and their circumstances weren’t helping either. She wanted to believe that was all it was.

The first room had been easy. A forest crawling with goblins and hobgoblins. It had looked like a normal D-ranked dungeon—maybe even an E. So they sped past it and entered the second room.The second room was tougher than expected, but nothing too difficult. A cave swarming with dire wolves. Edrin cut through them in moments. Then they moved on to the next room.

Expecting more of the same, they entered the third room without resting. Four hours later, they were still walking. It felt like a puzzle room, but if it was, they were far from solving it. There were no clues nor enemies to fight.

She’d thought about using spells to make it easier, but none would help here. She should have listened to her brother. He’d said utility was as valuable as offense and control. But she had focused only on the latter so she could kill as many corrupted as possible.

Edrin shook his head. “Here.” He passed her the artifact, a necklace. A small, circular piece of gold with a blue crystal embedded in it. She put it on, and the effect was immediate. A cooling sensation spread across her body. The heat was gone. The burning from the sand faded, but it still felt like needles piercing her skin.

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He continued, “I apologize. I have no excuse.” He turned to face her. “I think the dungeon is affecting our minds.”

Revel stopped, studying him. His pristine white armor had turned dark, almost black. Sand clung to it, burying most of his family’s emblem. Sweat had dried on his skin, the sand sticking to it. His green eyes were the only thing unchanged.

Did she look the same?

“That was my guess as well,” she said, brushing sand off her robe.

“We need to hurry. If the others are facing the same difficulties in the dungeon, not all of them will survive.”

That hit her harder than she thought it would. Images of Dareth and Clay lying dead flashed through her mind, each in a different way. It was like flipping through a storybook filled with paintings. But instead of landscapes, every page showed their deaths.

Clay, mauled by a beast. Clay, drowning in an endless ocean. Dareth stood in the middle of a swarm of monsters.

Dareth… standing over Clay’s corpse.

Another. Clay lay broken on the ground, his body a mess. Dareth leaned against a wall, Clay’s sword driven through his heart.

Cold sweat prickled across her skin, and her body trembled. Too many questions flooded her mind.

Was this a message from the old gods? Were Clay and Dareth dead? Had they turned on each other?

“…Revel…”