Chapter 46 Bad Luck In The Desert

Two moons shine in the starry sky, one of them at the highest point, making it clear that it is midnight.

The silence seems deadly at this time as there isn't even a slight breeze of wind everywhere.

But there is smoke rising between the dunes, a small camp with a few common tents and two wagons equipped with big cages.

In the center of the camp, there is a group of people around a campfire, all humans in leather armor and black cloaks.

"Any progress, Dairin??" The tallest man in front of the fire calls out to a woman walking around the camp.

The woman walks with a round object full of pointers in her hand, a magic compass.

She points the compass in various directions as she circles the camp, but the pointers barely turn no matter what she does.

"This piece of shit is broken!" Dairin goes back to the campfire and throws the compass to the ground.

"Damn!" One of the other men in leather armor looks at the tallest man, the group's leader. "What are we going to do now, Keld??

"What do you want me to do exactly??" Keld responds with another question in an irritated tone.

"You said you could travel by following the position of the sun and stars." Dairin comments.

Keld shoots Dairin a hostile look. "Shut up, you bitch! I got lost in that sandstorm; that's not my fault!"

"Of course..." Dairin rolls her eyes in mockery.

"Hey guys, we shouldn't be fighting now." Another man speaks as he takes a scroll out of his storage bag and opens it in front of the group.

That's a big map, and man analyzes it cautiously. "We have to find out where we are before anything else."

"Oh, great! And how are we going to locate ourselves on the map if there are only dunes everywhere?" Keld asks.

Dairin approaches the man with the map and looks at it with a thoughtful expression. That's not the map of the entire continent, but the western part, which is basically divided into a large area to the north, the Ancient Forest, and one to the south, that vast desert.

She points to a part more to the southwest. "I'm pretty sure we traveled at least over a hundred miles to the west before encountering that sandstorm; we must be close to the Bronze Skull Sect."

"The Bronze Skull Sect?" The man with the map asks. "Do you mean the place that accepts those trashes refused in the true necromancer Sects?"

"They aren't the cream of our people indeed..." The woman speaks with a neutral expression, but then her eyes gleam with admiration. "But people say their Sect Master is a very beautiful and strong lady."

Keld shakes his head with a mocking expression. "It's a woman? It makes sense they're such garbage."

"What are you talking about, you shitty sexist?" Dairin shows her sharp teeth. "We are living in a moment where powerful women are rising to greatness and leaving men behind."

"Bullshit." Another man exclaims.

"What about the Black Lotus's Sect Master?" Dairin quickly continues. "She is one of the most powerful people on our continent today. What about the Crimson Riders' commander? She is also another incredible woman."

"They're just women who are lucky enough to be born into wealthy families; not a big deal." Keld comments.

"Come on; you don't know anything." Dairin sighs. "The Crimson Riders' commander was a street orphan... today, her clan is probably the biggest in Creocia, and most of her followers are women."

"Then why didn't you join them??" The man with the map asks.

Dairin makes a sad expression. "I tried, but since my family has always used the arts of death, I wasn't welcomed by them, naturally."

"That's because of that Nameless King." Keld comments, clearly upset. "That bastard is paying the Crimson Riders the biggest contracts for them to help demi-humans... why no one stops this man??"

"Many believe it to be a woman." Dairin smiles.

"A woman? Are you drunk??" Keld asks. "It's the Nameless King, not Queen; it's a man, of course."

Dairin shrugs. "No one knows for sure, the Nameless King's identity is still confidential, or it would be dead already."

"Yeah, sure..." Keld sneers again.

"Stupid men..." Dairin murmurs.

"What did you say??" He asks in a hostile manner.

"I said I'm going to relieve myself there, and I'll be right back." She starts walking away from the campfire. "Don't try to peek at me, or I will cut your balls off!"

Keld shakes his head. "Be quick, we have to move on soon; these cages aren't going to fill up with elven slaves by themselves, you know."

"Ya, ya, we'll make this work." Dairin's voice gets farther and farther away as she walks towards some ruins to the south.

"What a stupid woman..." The man with the map comments.

Others agree, and one of them smiles with a wicked expression. "Why don't we show her the place women must be?"

"Not a bad idea." Keld laugh. "But we can't do that now; we need her in a good mood to go back home, preferably with a good pack of slaves."

"Hopefully we can find some female elves at the edge of the forest, I need a woman to warm my bed..." Another man comments.

"Hehehe..." Another man laughs. "We all do, my friend."

The group continues talking around the campfire for a few minutes until a breeze stirs the flames.

"What??" They are confused because there was no sign of wind there.

*Whoosh*

Another gust of wind ruffles the campfire's flames and also some tents, leaving the group alert.

"Who's there??" Keld shouts to the shadows. "Is it you, Dairin??"

*Woosh*

The group feels the wind and sees a blur in the shadows, but they don't understand what's going on.

The light from the two moons should be enough for them to see a person even far from the fire, but that person seems to blend in with the shadows and moves very quickly.

"What kind of prank is this, Dairin??" One of the men asks in a relaxed tone. "You really expect to scare us?"

"Shut the fuck up." Keld whispers to that man.

"What's the matter? Isn't it obvious that it's Dairin??" The man asks.

Keld draws a curved sword from its scabbard as he intently looks at the shadows. "Dairin can't move that quickly."

*Whoosh*

As soon as he finishes speaking, a tall man appears in front of the group instantly as if he has taken shape from the shadows.

The man wears a pair of fancy boots and pants and is shirtless; his long black hair has a certain reddish glow, as do his eyes.

But his appearance isn't what draws the group's attention the most, but the blood dripping from his lips over his six-pack abs.

That's Klaus, of course; and he raises Dairin's severed head to the group. "Yeah, she didn't move that quickly indeed."

The group is shocked but most intriguing is the fact that the expression on Dairin's face is a smile, making them all imagine the same thing.

[Why would she die happy???]