The heat from the Crimson Nation's forges made the air vibrate around the command tent, but the atmosphere inside was one of desperate urgency. Kyo, his body still protesting against the scars left by the battle, stood before Baron Von Steer. Sálvia remained a step behind, her right hand resting discreetly on the hilt of one of her daggers.
The Diplomatic and Geographic Impasse
— Baron, every second we spend here is a second Vargas moves deeper into Jasper territory with the boy — Kyo spoke with a contained intensity, his eyes fixed on the nobleman. — We need support, or at least a fast way to cross the border.
Baron Von Steer, seated on his throne of volcanic iron, sighed heavily. He looked at the tactical maps spread across the stone table.
— Kyo, my wish would be to march right now. But Emperor Ignis Velaris was categorical: with the shadow of Aethelgard over our heads, we cannot risk a diplomatic crisis with Jasper. Officially, Crimson cannot interfere — the Baron said, his deep voice echoing.
He paused, looking out the windows that showed the vast distance between the volcanic peaks and the Western deserts.
— Furthermore, there is the time factor. By land, Jasper is weeks of constant galloping away. The only way to arrive in time would be through a teleportation circle, but ours was damaged in the Order's last incursion and would take months for the royal mages to recalibrate. By the time we gain access to a functional portal outside the capitals, Vargas will have sold Julian ten times over.
The Inevitable Decision
Kyo exchanged a quick glance with Sálvia. The stewardess's silence was more eloquent than any protest; they didn't have months. They didn't even have days.
— Then we will not wait for mages or the Emperor's permission — Kyo declared, his voice hoarse but firm. — If the journey by land takes weeks, then we depart now. Every heartbeat lost here is another step for the traitor.
Baron Von Steer nodded, respecting the suicidal determination of the two.
— I understand. You will depart as pariahs, not as allies of Crimson. If you fall in Jasper, the Empire will deny any knowledge of your presence.
The Solitary Departure
Sálvia did not say a word. She simply adjusted her reinforced leather bracers and checked the edges of her blades. She had already accepted that the journey would be an ordeal of physical and mental endurance. The Baron ordered two of the best warhorses from the Ignis stables to be brought: animals bred in extreme heat, with the lungs to run until their hearts stopped.
They mounted under a sky tinged orange by the eternal forges. Sálvia looked toward the horizon, where the desert dust was beginning to appear in the distance. Kyo adjusted his saber, feeling the weight of responsibility on his still-aching shoulders.
— Kyo! — Baron Von Steer shouted as they galloped out of the camp. — If you survive the road and reach the arenas... trust no one who smiles in Jasper! Their sun burns the skin, but their greed burns the soul!
They did not look back. Without the aid of transport magic, the journey would be a hell of fatigue and danger, crossing perilous passes and hostile outposts. But as the soil of Crimson fell behind them, the only thought guiding them was the image of Julian in Vargas's hands. The longest hunt of their lives had just begun.
The merciless midday sun punished the arid plains marking the Crimson border. Vargas rode with the confidence of a wolf that can already taste its prey, but the one holding the prisoner's reins was his pupil, Kaelen.
Kaelen was the picture of cynicism. Young, with a crooked smile that never reached his cold eyes, he displayed a collection of gold rings and precious stones on his hands—trophies torn from past victims that shimmered with every movement of the reins. He kept Julian's rope tied to his mount's saddle, watching the boy stumble with sadistic pleasure.
Julian was awake. The effect of the alchemy had worn off, leaving his mind lucid enough to understand the horror of his situation. Bound and filthy, he tried a desperate escape, throwing his body to the side in an attempt to unbalance Kaelen's horse.
— Whoa, slow down there, little jewel — Kaelen said, his voice a mocking drawl. With a quick movement of his ring-covered hands, he gave the rope a sharp tug. Julian fell face-first into the hot dust. Kaelen let out a short laugh. — You're worth a lot of gold whole, but I don't mind dragging you a bit if it's to teach you some manners.
Vargas signaled to stop near a stone structure that looked like nothing more than a pile of forgotten rubble. He approached Julian and ripped the boy's gag off with a blunt motion.
— Please... my father... the Count... he will pay any ransom! — Julian implored, his voice failing.
— Your father is smoke, boy. And you? You are no longer an heir — Vargas leaned in, exhaling the scent of tobacco and blood. — You are merchandise. I'm going to sell you in the arenas of Jasper as a luxury slave. The magic seed you carry will ensure I never have to work a day in my life again.
Julian looked toward the horizon, despair taking hold.
— Jasper is weeks from here... Kyo and Sálvia will find us before then!
Kaelen, wiping dust from one of his ruby rings, let out a cynical sigh.
— He's right, Master. Riding through these dunes would take weeks. By then, Crimson will have sent scouts after us.
Vargas gave a dark smile and walked to the center of the ruins. He brushed aside dry vines, revealing ancient runic symbols carved into the floor.
— You think I'm an amateur? I know shortcuts that even the Emperor's maps don't record.
Vargas touched a central stone, and the ground began to vibrate with a sickly violet light. It was a hidden teleportation circle, a relic of past ages.
— With this circle — Vargas declared, as the air around began to distort — weeks of travel become a single day. Tomorrow, when you wake up, Julian, the sun of Jasper will be burning your skin in the cages of the arenas.
Kaelen shoved Julian into the center of the portal with the tip of his boot, his rings clinking cheerfully. The violet light swallowed the trio, and in the blink of an eye, silence and the heat of the plains returned to dominate the empty ruins.
The violet flash dissipated as abruptly as it had appeared. Julian fell to his knees, his stomach churning from the nausea of teleportation. The humid air of Lazuli had been replaced by a dry, scorching breath that burned his nostrils.
Opening his eyes, he saw the horizon of Jasper: an ocean of golden dunes and, in the distance, the monumental silhouette of Geodrakon Imperium. The sun was an incandescent gold coin in the sky, relentless.
— Welcome to the Domain of the Golden Sands, boy — Vargas said, brushing dust from his tunic.
Kaelen, the pupil, admired the brilliance of his rings under the intense light.
— Look how the gold shines here.
The Obsidian Coliseum
Vargas wasted no time. He pulled Julian by the rope, dragging him through the noisy streets of the capital. The luxury of fine silks and the smell of exotic spices on the main avenues soon gave way to the brutality of the eastern sector, where the Obsidian Coliseum rose.
The volcanic rock walls vibrated with the screams of the crowd. At the entrance to the dungeons, Julian saw the first Beastmen: colossal guards with traits of hyenas and lions, their muscles bulging under rawhide armor. They snarled as the group passed, baring yellowed fangs.
Vargas was received by Zokar, the Auction Master, a slender man whose yellow eyes resembled those of a serpent.
— Vargas... — Zokar hissed, examining Julian as if appraising a horse. — A Valerius? The blood is noble, but he looks... thin. The crowd prefers fresh Beast meat or robust warriors.
— He is not for the lions, Zokar — Vargas smiled cruelly. — He is a lineage trophy. A luxury slave for some merchant's harem or for Geodrakon's political games. The starting price will be in bars of pure gold.
In the Bowels of Fear
Julian was pushed into a damp cell beneath the stands. The sound above was deafening: the roar of beasts and the clash of metal. In the cell across from him, he saw something that made him freeze.
A Weretiger, over two meters tall, was chained by all four limbs. His amber eyes glowed in the dark, and his body was covered in scars from whips and combat. He was Raaj, the Devastator, a beast-gladiator who refused to die.
— Stop shaking, human cub — Raaj's voice was a low growl that made Julian's chest vibrate. — Fear sharpens the scent of the hyenas out there. Here in Jasper, you are either the predator or the gold in someone's pocket.
Kaelen approached the bars, clinking his rings against the iron to irritate the chained beast.
— Hear the kitty, Julian? Tomorrow, when the auction starts, you'll wish you had died in the mansion.
Vargas and Zokar stepped away to discuss the sales percentage, leaving Julian in the dark corridor, caught between the hungry gaze of the Beastmen and the inevitable fate of being sold as an object in the heart of the desert.
The Jasper sun was not just light; it was a physical force, a weight that crushed the shoulders and burned the throat with every breath. The horizon wavered in an infinite mirage of bronze and gold, where sky and sand seemed to merge into a single furnace. Sálvia led the crossing, wrapped in sand-colored linen robes that camouflaged her perfectly. Her eyes, protected by a thin cloth, watched the subtle movement of the dunes, where danger never slept.
Kyo followed closely behind, feeling his sweat evaporate before it could even run. He watched the stewardess with renewed respect: her posture was that of a predator in its natural habitat.
— You move through these dunes as if you were born in them, Sálvia — Kyo commented, his voice hoarse from the dryness. — Where did you learn to read the wind like that?
— The desert does not forgive distraction, Kyo. It's like serving at a nobleman's table — she replied, without taking her eyes off the horizon. — One error in timing, and you are dead.
Combat in the Dunes: Glass Scorpions
The silence of the desert was suddenly broken by a metallic sound, as if hundreds of knives were being sharpened underground. The mounts stopped abruptly, nostrils flared in terror.
— Glass Scorpions — Sálvia whispered, drawing her daggers.
From the scalding sand emerged six translucent creatures, whose silicon shells reflected the sun like deadly prisms. They were the size of wolves, with stingers dripping a poison capable of crystallizing human blood in seconds.
Kyo jumped from his horse, unsheathing his saber.
— Leave the ones on the left to me — he said, assuming a combat stance. — The cold of my steel should make their shells brittle.
One of the scorpions leaped, trying to drive its stinger into Kyo's chest. The Master of Arms spun his saber, parrying the blow with the back of the blade and delivering a horizontal cut. A gust of frigid air hit the creature, creating fissures in its glass body. With a heavy kick, Kyo shattered the monster, which disintegrated into thousands of glittering fragments.
Meanwhile, Sálvia was a blur of movement. She glided between attacks with terrifying fluidity. When two scorpions surrounded her, she used the agility of her legs to leap over one, driving her dagger into the vulnerable junction of the tail. Before touching the ground, she spun and threw her second dagger, which pierced the faceted eye of the other beast.
— Not bad — Sálvia murmured, recovering her weapon.
— I told you I was recovered — Kyo sheathed his saber, wiping glass dust from his clothes. — But these things... are just the beginning of what awaits us.
Al-Zalam: The City of Whispers
After hours of marching under a heat that seemed to melt the soul, they reached Al-Zalam. Nestled in a canyon of reddish rock, the city was the heart of lawlessness in the West. Known as the "City of Whispers," Al-Zalam was a neutral territory where everything was negotiated in the shadow of great stone arches.
The air was saturated with the smell of cheap incense, strong spices, and the constant growl of Beastmen. Shifty-eyed Hyena-men patrolled the corners, while Jackal-men scouts watched from upper balconies with loaded crossbows.
Interrogation at the Blood Oasis
They entered the Blood Oasis, a smoky tavern carved directly into the rock. Sálvia walked to the counter, where a reptilian informant with dull scales was counting coins. Kyo stood beside her, his hand resting on the hilt of his saber.
— Vargas. The Valerius boy. Where? — Sálvia was direct, driving her dagger into the wood of the counter.
The reptile hissed, but Kyo leaned forward, causing the temperature around the counter to drop drastically. Steam began to rise from the informant's mouth.
— Don't test her patience, lizard — Kyo said, his voice grim. — The desert has left us thirsty for blood. Speak now, or your blood will turn to ice.
The informant recoiled, intimidated by the combination of Sálvia's coldness and Kyo's frigid threat.
— Vargas... he didn't waste time — the reptile hissed. — He used the hidden runic circle to skip the distance. He must already be at the gates of Geodrakon Imperium. The boy was promised to Zokar. He will be the centerpiece of the auction at the Obsidian Coliseum at the end of the week. They say Emperor Geodrakon himself wants to see the last heir sold.
Sálvia pulled her dagger from the counter and looked at Kyo. The trail was hot, but the distance to the capital was still vast.
— We have a long road ahead — Sálvia said. — And we'll need supplies and horses that can withstand the Shadow Crossing if we want to arrive before the auctioneer's gavel falls.
— Then let the preparations begin — Kyo nodded. — Julian will not be sold like an object while I can still hold a sword.
The suffocating heat of Al-Zalam felt even heavier when stomachs grumbled and the coin purse was empty. Sálvia and Kyo walked through the dusty alleys, feeling the hungry gazes of the Beastmen on their armor and weapons. They knew that in this city, those without gold were treated as carrion.
— We need supplies, new horses, and purified water for the Shadow Crossing — Sálvia murmured, adjusting the band covering her forehead scar. — And we don't have a single Jasper cent in our pockets.
— In cities like this, blood is the fastest currency — Kyo replied, keeping his hand on his saber hilt. — Let's go to the guild. If Vargas passed through here, that's where the mercenaries talk too much.
The Iron Claw Guild
They found the Adventurers' Guild, a massive building of reddish stone with a lion's paw insignia forged in iron. The interior was chaos: the smell of cheap ale, tobacco smoke, and the constant growl of contract disputes.
At the petrified wood counter stood Grimm the Scar, a colossal Bear-man with only one eye and a voice like a mountain collapsing.
— New in town? — Grimm roared, without taking his eyes off a route map. — If you came to beg, the orphans' alley is the other way. If you came to work, show me what you can do.
Sálvia took a step forward, her frigid presence silencing the nearby mercenaries. She didn't draw her daggers, but the way her fingers rested upon them said everything.
— We want the contract that pays the most and takes the least time — she said, her voice sharp.
Grimm let out a hoarse laugh, slamming a blood-stained parchment onto the counter.
— You're in luck, or out of it. Merchant Khadim had his caravan of silks and spices attacked by Sand Crawlers—insectoid beasts that live beneath the dunes. He needs an escort to recover what's left and eliminate the nest. Pays in Geodrakon gold and offers travel supplies.
The Encounter with the Third Blade
While they examined the contract, a figure detached itself from the shadows of a pillar. It was a woman with dark skin covered in gold tattoos that glowed faintly, wearing Jasper silks that hid a series of throwing knives.
— You don't look like desert scouts — she said, approaching with a feline gait. — I am Zaya, the Sand Guide. I know Khadim's dunes, and you look like the kind who know how to kill. If you let me in, I guarantee you won't die of thirst before reaching the nest.
Kyo looked at Sálvia, who nodded slightly. They needed someone who knew the terrain to avoid wasting time.
— The contract is ours — Kyo declared to Grimm. — But payment must be made in advance for basic supplies.
Grimm smiled, showing yellowed teeth.
— The advance is on the table. But remember: if you come back without Khadim's cargo, the next contract I put on the board will be for your heads.
Sálvia took the parchment and the bag of initial coins. The journey to Geodrakon Imperium would be long and expensive, and this was the first bloody step to fund Julian's rescue. They left the guild under the setting sun, with Zaya close behind, as the wind blew the sand, hiding the desert secrets they would have to face at dawn.