Chapter 306
Chapter 306
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Can One Who Has Seen the End of the World Plant an Apple Tree? (11)
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The desert night was beautiful.
The parched earth created a clear sky without a single cloud, and gazing at the Milky Way that revealed its full splendor unobstructed, one could understand why ancient people wandered among the stars and penned legends.
The oasis that nurtured grass, trees, and people amid this barren land gleamed smoothly without a ripple, embracing the beautiful sky entirely and bringing it down to earth.
“Doesn’t it remind you of the old days?”
“The old days...”
“Tobrún? You... became a savage, terrifying monster, smashing the magic tower and flooding the city. And I... let the treasures pooled inside flow out with my family, for more useful people. Walking like this with you amid the setting sun and the scent of water, it just brings back those memories, doesn’t it? Oh, and look at that person over there. Isn’t that the mage you were shaking at from atop the tower back then? Name was... Ottman? Ottman Bodler?”
“Memories of a time long past...”
“Hehe. I wonder if he’d call them memories too? Ah, say hello. Wave. Naturally?”
The Professor was strolling through the desert oasis with Raksha, who clung tightly to his arm. People gathered around the scattered campfires glanced at the pair in the moonlight, sailors whistled and clapped, and Ottman, who poked only his head above the water like a mermaid, chuckled and waved. The elderly mage split the moonlight on the water’s surface with a blessing, sending up a fountain, while an elf perched on a palm tree sketched the scene with a serene smile.
An utterly peaceful, romantic situation.
To those around them, it seemed perfectly natural. Introduced as long-lost lovers from their first meeting, then emerging from the tent much closer after some time alone together, the man and woman now walked intimately side by side. To anyone unaware of what happened in the tent, it was already accepted as fact.
Naturally, for the Professor, who had finally relaxed, it was a pleasantly awkward feeling.
“Uh... Raksha. Wouldn’t it be better to keep a little distance?”
“Hmm~ No way. You’re warm, so it’s convenient? Desert nights are cold.”
“Still, this is quite different from what you said and did in the tent—”
“Shh. Lower your voice. I told you, right? Someone might be listening anywhere. Pretending to be lovers and sticking close helps with discussing important matters. We need to focus on the job, don’t we?”
“Ugh...”
Raksha whispered as she pressed even closer to his arm.
He had planned to sort out their relationship somewhat in the tent, then take a walk and gradually discuss the purpose of coming to the desert...
‘Important matters?’
‘Several things. About support from the desert nations, and the overall situation in the desert—’
‘Shh. If it’s that kind of talk, should we shout it out loud? Come here.’
‘Uh, wha—’
Upon hearing the content, Raksha’s eyes sparkled, and now she was dragging him to a secluded spot while putting on an act.
The Professor awkwardly scratched the kiss mark Raksha had left on his neck and let himself be led by her hand.
A moment later.
Raksha, who had reached the boundary where desert ships lined the sea of sand, removed her veil and spread it on the ground, then patted the spot beside her invitingly as she sat.
Swish—
“What’s that...?”
“Re-butterfly wing dust. It holds the day’s heat to keep things warm, and it’s effective at warding off various spells that originate from the night?”
...Plop.
[You could use message magic for secret talks.]
[Don’t underestimate desert sorcery. Ancient spells passed down from antiquity differ greatly in system from modern mysticism, slipping in stealthily regardless of power level?]
“So... even if it’s a bit inconvenient, coming out to a quiet place like this and speaking softly is safer.”
“Safer...”
The Professor sharpened his senses as he watched Raksha rub something like red paper in a small glass vial and bury it beneath where they sat.
‘...Definitely. Something’s there.’
[Super creepy. Is that even human? Barely a pulse. Like someone buried in sand and dying?]
‘It’s slinking around for something like that. Seems very interested in us.’
He could faintly sense something. Not the oasis’s groundwater-soaked ground, but a texture of different liquid clumped beneath the sand. No breathing or pulse, but this familiar texture and density was unmistakably fresh human blood, so the ‘danger’ Raksha mentioned was probably those kinds of guys.
“...Professor? Just in case, but don’t kill them~?”
“You knew?”
“That’s why I brought us out this far to create an environment to talk, right? The head of Moonshadow having a secret rendezvous with a suspicious outsider. That alone would have drooling fools rushing in droves, and if word spreads that we’re rooting out and killing hidden tails so thoroughly just to hide something secretive, we’ll face several times more surveillance. Those types stick to you like daily life in the desert, so best learn to ignore them?”
“Daily life... Is the desert at war or something?”
If so, not great news for me, here seeking military support.
“Yes.”
“Huh? Really?”
Raksha nodded bitterly at his reflexive question.
“As you said, the desert is at war. Ever since the great desert kingdom that once ushered in a golden age fell, for hundreds of years.”
“...Sorry, Professor. The desert kingdom you aimed for vanished hundreds of years ago.”
“...No Desert Kingdom.”
Nod, nod.
“Then, Moonshadow being an intelligence group under the desert kingdom is a lie too?”
Swish—
What then?
The Professor scratched his head as Raksha’s veil swayed side to side in denial to his question.
Let’s see... Something terrifying lurks in the desert.
Mutants are sneaking around somewhere.
Thought to get support from the plump church folks, but it’s a place where mentioning the church gets you deep-fried, in the midst of a centuries-long war, no less.
And Raksha, saying surveillance beyond even Anti-Mutant Professor senses is daily life, detectable only with water mage senses.
“...We’ve got a ton to talk about.”
“That’s fine, right? The night is long, and thanks to certain someones, regrettably—we’ve got nothing but talking to fill this long night?”
[Gah!]
Hide, who had barely regained his senses at Raksha’s sly eye smile leaning on his shoulder, plummeted back into despair.
Well, Raksha was... too intense a stimulus for a one-year-old consciousness.
Even for Professor Park, twenty-five years old, of course.
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Long ago. Even in the same desert, it was far more livable than now, with more oases, a time when people could walk atop the sands.
There existed a desert kingdom that unified and ruled all the deserts.
Unlike the interior, distances between villages and oases in the desert were immense, making travel difficult, so oasis villages were essentially independent realms ruled by local lords like tribal chiefs.
The king of the desert kingdom, called the ‘Sun King,’ bound these dozens, hundreds of local lords with his charisma. One can imagine how immense his authority was.
But the king grew arrogant, intoxicated by that power.
The king who called himself the sun ended up coveting the desert’s moon.
Due to his outrage, the sacred night moon plummeted and sank beneath the waters, never to rise again.
The sun, bereft of its pair, weakened, and in rage hurled its corpse upon the Sun King’s head.
Thus, the great desert kingdom, seeming poised to enjoy a millennium of glory, became ruins in an instant. Cursed by the furious sun, the desert turned into a boiling land of scorching heat. Eight in ten oases dried up and vanished, everything grew scarce, and the local lords, bereft of a center, fought endlessly to seize the surviving oases.
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“...Th-that’s the legend passed down in the desert?”
“The fall of the desert kingdom, the weakened sun and moon... So, what’s that up in the sky now? A fake?”
“Who knows? It’s a legend handed down orally, so don’t compare it directly to facts. The sun and moon... probably symbols for something?”
The Professor pondered amid Raksha’s voice, which flowed like a song.
The state of the desert kingdom. Easy to infer.
Teeming monsters, harsh environment, suppressed交流.
Think of wastelands where factions build around survival zones. Easy to picture mentally.
In extreme environments, a center isn’t just symbolic—it coordinates survival resources across distant areas, creates fitting rules and conditions. In the wasteland, Gedroits’s system, exchange, and drones handle some of that.
Without it, a lord with plenty water but short food raids oases rich in grain. Salt-deficient ones plunder salt-desert regions. Each survives alone—a Warring States era dawns.
‘Smooth up to here...’
The one called Sun King, and the two gods in the legend: sun and moon. From here, endless speculation.
Real sun and moon falling... unlikely? Even centuries ago, no way new ones popped up in mere hundreds of years. Better as symbols.
Desert king who coveted the moon topples the lofty sky moon. Whatever bullshit he did, it means the king dragged some higher being down to crawling-human level over the desert. Then its pair falls as a set, suicide-attacks turning kingdom and king to desert grains...
Sun King and sun. Two suns of the desert clashed? Princes’ fratricide over throne? ...Nah. Desert kingdom would’ve continued somehow, even under new dynasty, given many regional lords ready to replace.
So, distance from such realism.
[You guessed something’s in the desert, right? Could be aftermath of that legendary event?]
‘...Probably. Taboo. Desert’s absolute rule that snatches violators.’
Whatever it is, assuming legend based on fact... current taboo likely byproduct of that sun-moon crash cataclysm.
Explains what Palcatus is scheming here. Fallen god’s remains. Prime bait for slobbering mutant corpse-eaters. Legend most desert folk know, so mutants spreading parasites wouldn’t struggle to learn it.
“Legend... legend... So, what’s Moonshadow, belonging to a nonexistent desert kingdom?”
“Hmm... This is suuuper sensitive classified info. Can’t tell non-‘insiders’... Want to know? To know, you’d have to become an ‘insider’... Shall we head back? If we hurry a bit, before sunrise...”
“Uh, hey?”
“Ahh, addictive. Try reacting a tad indifferently? Keep that up, and I’ll torment you endlessly...?”
Eek, chills. This woman for real...!
Raksha, who turned her head laughing so hard while stifling it, wiped tears from laughing and continued.
“The desert kingdom is gone, but its successor lives on. Moonshadow protects, serves, guards the royal blood. A venerable group passed down from desert kingdom days?”
Oh. Heir. If like Gynax, useful? Old group from kingdom era... Moonshadow’s power bigger than thought.
Professor, who’d given up on reinforcements amid centuries of war, felt faint hope revive at Raksha’s words.
“Power-wise, how much for pro-king faction? How many oases do they control?”
“None.”
“...Huh?”
“None. Zero?”
Raksha spoke without a flicker in her half-moon eye smile.
“Only we Moonshadow serve the royal blood, called the ‘Heart of the Desert.’ The legends of desert kingdom taboo passed down do instill respect for royal blood in ordinary desert folk, but oasis rulers don’t see it that way. To them, the current royal descendant is the crown offered to the desert’s strongest ruler. A means to claim desert kingdom succession, gain desert people’s recognition. Just that.”
“Then Moonshadow...”
“Like him, merely a fading relic of antiquity. Rulers craving dominance kidnap him for royal blood, kill if fails. We entrust him to desert’s strongest ruler for protection, do assassinations and spying for that ruler, thus barely maintaining desert’s lifeline.”
The Professor focused more on the creeping tail as Raksha chose words slowly, uncharacteristically hesitant.
‘...Three Kingdoms who? Closer to Warring States. Royal blood treated as symbolic object...’
Reminiscent of young emperor in Three Kingdoms, toyed by Dong Zhuo, Ten Attendants. Treated not as person but like imperial seal. Given Moonshadow’s special position, tails make sense.
As she said, not info to blab to outsiders easily. Even if Raksha harbors feelings for me, she distinguishes public and private. Bringing this up means it leads to related talk.
As he waited silently, Raksha smiled gratefully once more, took a small breath, and spoke.
“Recently... a bit of trouble around the one the Heart of the Desert is entrusted to, ‘Ruler of Twelve Steps’ Kaulradi.”
“Dead?”
“Death would’ve been simpler. Suddenly burning with conquest, he’s pushing war prep hard, claiming the desert’s largest force makes him true desert kingdom successor.”
“...No chance?”
“Barely? Countless heroes and powerhouses raised flags to unify desert, none succeeded? Kaulradi was odd too. Somewhat coercive but rational, now temper explosive, ranting he gained true desert power, time has come?”
“If stay put, labeled invader’s ally, threatens entrusted one’s safety, so must leave for another lord’s protection. Bringing this up to me means—”
“Not just ‘help us’? Though no real power, in taboo-and-legend-breathing desert, ‘Heart of the Desert’’s symbolism holds great weight? As reward, we can represent your will. Request from revered royal blood across desert, plus your feats in battle... enough to secure reinforcements, no?”
Ultimately, this conversation for that final pitch.
No way ‘Twelve Steps or Toes’ lets go of ‘Heart of the Desert’ crown, so help escape. Reward: plea from beloved ancient royal heir to ruler. Plus, pretext for outsider like me to join desert war.
“...Me being saint causes uproar?”
“That’s why we rushed here? Hide you under Moonshadow tent before other spies dig your tail?”
Good grief.
“Earlier you said you came running because you missed me, no thought to consequences?”
“Distinguishing public and private matters, but if they align, what could be better? You’re my longed-for love, great warrior I confirmed with my own eyes before your fame spreads?”
...Definitely no ordinary woman.
Pondering Raksha’s words, the Professor easily spotted the loophole in her proposal.
“...Not just diving into desert for reinforcements, but since it came up... Even if win war, topple that Kaulradi, side I back takes normalcy, hard to hand over combat personnel in such environment.”
“Ah, that’s fine. Supporting huge army tough, but new entrusted ruler has many fine talents. Know those handling ‘desert blood’? In waterless place, black desert essence unmixing with water—”
“Okay, deal!”
At Raksha’s continuing words, the Professor seized and shook Moonshadow leader’s hand without hesitation.
Desert’s best-of-best hireable NPCs. Sand-and-oil mages! Among earth mages, ultra-specialized handling unique power, mostly multi-class like earth-water, earth-fire—those guys!
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- Heung An Mandu : Oil mages!
- Jokasss : Tradition’s oil power! Petroleum mages! Battlefield turns to shitshow win or lose—utterly detestable top-tier AOE bastards! Number one carpet bombers!
- Take a Look : Bone-deep desert men, never leave no matter the bullshit, but desert-crazed, so favor from ancient desert royal bloodline... clears hurdles easy! Can’t be commanded anyway, so even lords keep them loosely cooperative! Slight pretext, nab ‘em all!
- Goldman Sucks : Oil field gushed.
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‘3rd World final battle in permafrost. Environmentally, these oil men maintaining unquenchable fire along our path—profitable! Can make non-freezing path in permafrost!’
Even five, no ten—profitable, thought Professor nodded without delay, then plunged right hand into sand, yanking up the tail that closed in.
Squelch!
“... ...! .....!!!”
“Tongue-cut assassin. Not from Kaulradi... Pharak? Dumakar? Looks like rumors spread Heart of Desert wants to move. Other rulers’ minions tailing?”
Crack—
“Oh my.”
“Kill it, and rumors spread I’m in cahoots with you? Perfect contract substitute.” “Oh my~ So forceful.”
Raksha tilted her head, licking the tip of the awl in the broken-neck tail’s hand. Makes sense—Moonshadow guardian of last royal blood means killing her halves kidnapping effort. She’s assassination-plagued like him.
“Then, we’ll hide saint identity. Need new one... Got anything else proving identity? New fakes exposed by sorcery quick. Better tweak long-touched item from your hand...”
“ID, huh. Like that...”
Ah. Got one.
The Professor rummaged his pocket, handing Raksha a worn wooden plaque buried at inventory bottom.
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Mercenary Badge
F-Rank Mercenary – Trapper – Professor
Certifies bearer as [F]-Rank Mercenary.
- Silver Roar Mercenary Guild Master Waldorf Topric, Turan City -
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“...Forged?”
“Real mine.”
“F-Rank, trap and crossbow merc... same as monster who bare-handedly smashed magic tower, Haunuman arena winner, saint who crushed empire’s calamity...?”
“Will this work?”
Raksha, wide-eyed like startled rabbit alternating between me and badge, turned away trembling. Ears caught stifled chuckles.
“Really... you always surprise me?”
Wiping eye-dew again, Raksha examined [F-Rank Mercenary Professor] badge closely.
“More than enough. Real ID, just change name, hmm... Say long-ago desert leaver turned merc, hired by us Moonshadow? Sand-tangled scars fit. Skin... someone okay with damage, tan hard under sun, soon match.”
“No need to make desert native...”
“There is. Moonshadow descendants of ancient guardians, generational royal servants. Hiring outsider merc raises suspicion.”
“Ah, yes...”
“Name... name. Yours... yeah, only that.”
Raksha drew patterns over badge, wove like thread, overlaid covering Professor’s name.
[F-Rank Mercenary – Trapper – Saladin]
“Saladin?”
“Yes. Saladin. That’s your name from now on in desert, as Moonshadow’s mercenary?”
Whatever pleased her so, Raksha’s face brimmed with smile.
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