First Night in the Demonic Borderlands
Five wagons cleared the gates of the Great Wall and trundled steadily westward. The front two wagons were crammed with settlers bound for the frontier, while the remaining three carried grain, tools, and dry goods—provisions dispatched by the state to facilitate the western expansion.
After traveling for what felt like hours, an immense wilderness unfolded before them. Sparse clumps of grass dotted the expanse, and the parched, cracked earth bore witness to a long absence of rain.
An endless wasteland.
Since childhood, Reed had heard countless rumors about the western frontier. Every one of them was grim and forbidding, and though many were of dubious authenticity, they all agreed on a single undeniable truth: the staggering, incomprehensible scale of the territory. Vaster than most sovereign nations, it was hardly surprising that the mad Emperor coveted it so fiercely.
Still, if a land that vast has been left untamed all this time, there has to be a good reason. They don't call it the Demonic Borderlands for nothing.
As Reed gazed idly at the desolate landscape, the sun began to dip below the horizon. The wagons ground to a halt, and the caravan leader's voice cut through the evening air.
"We make camp here for the night! Sort out your own meals and find yourselves a place to sleep!"
Only then did the passengers clamber down from the wagons and unpack whatever rations they had brought along. Kindling a campfire was out of the question for most; across this barren waste, dry firewood was nowhere to be found. Only a handful of travelers who had hauled their own bundles of logs managed to coax modest flames to life.
Reed observed those few with keen interest.
They've made this crossing before. That's why they came prepared.
Of course, hauling firewood was backbreaking work, and buying it cost good coin. But did that make their effort foolish? Far from it. Nights in the wilderness were bitter, and a warm meal brought infinitely more comfort than cold, hardened bread. Before long, people began trickling toward the fires, and the experienced travelers stated their terms without hesitation.
"If you want to share the warmth, four copper coins."
"F-four coppers a head? How can you charge such an outrageous price?"
"Take it or leave it. Plenty of folks want this fire if you don't. And space around the embers is limited."
In the end, the protesting man sighed deeply and shelled out the coppers. It was an exorbitant price merely to borrow some heat, but far cheaper than freezing on the cold ground and waking up half-dead with fever.
Watching the exchange, Reed tucked away a valuable lesson.
Information is money... That's how it works.
Reed looked toward the welcoming glow with a tinge of envy, but he had no coin to spare for such luxuries. After taking the edge off his hunger with the rock-hard bread provided by the recruiter, he set about finding a place to sleep.
Without so much as a cloak to wrap around his shoulders, tonight promised to be a cold, grueling ordeal. Determined to find at least a dip in the terrain shielded from the biting wind, Reed inspected the ground—and caught his breath.
"Huh?"
As he examined the earth beneath his boots, it felt entirely different from before.
To Reed, soil had always just been soil—the ground upon which he walked. He had paid it a passing thought when digging trenches or shoveling dirt, but fundamentally, he had never truly looked at it. Who would stare at the earth and marvel, "Oh, what fine, soft soil," or, "How firm and easy to tread upon"? Earth was simply earth.
Yet now, everything had changed. The dirt he had once dismissed as mundane looked strikingly, vividly distinct.
Some patches were damp, while others were bone-dry. Some earth was soft and loamy, while other sections were riddled with jagged pebbles. In one spot, the soil was packed tight as though trampled by wandering beasts, while another pocket gave off a rich, earthy fragrance. What had once appeared uniform possessed a kaleidoscope of individual characteristics—and Reed could perceive every subtle nuance with absolute clarity.
Fascinating. Is this the effect of magic?
His newly acquired spell, Earth Control, was magic that manipulated soil. Evidently, the spell also granted an innate, profound intimacy with the earth itself.
Reed pressed both palms flat against the ground and focused his mind. Beneath the surface, he felt tiny things wriggling and squirming in the dark.
Insects... or perhaps small critters. I can even feel that!
The wilderness, seemingly desolate and lifeless, was teeming with its own fierce struggle for survival. Enraptured by the sensation, Reed let himself sink deeper into the trance. Though his awareness only extended to the dirt immediately around him, discerning and comparing these diverse textures was an intoxicating thrill in itself.
"He-heheh. Playing in the dirt? A-ain't that cute."
The pleasant reverie shattered instantly with the arrival of an unwelcome voice.
When Reed opened his eyes, a filthy man with half his teeth missing was leering down at him. It was the same fellow who had been smirking in his direction throughout the wagon ride. Behind him stood two companions, snickering among themselves.
Mercenaries?
Judging by the club slung at his waist and the crude, patched padded armor, the man clearly lived by violence. Whether bandit, gang enforcer, or mercenary, they were all cut from the same gutter cloth; distinguishing between them was meaningless.
"Heh, heheh. D-don't look so frightened. Name's Letz. W-we aren't bad people, you know. You're all on your own, ain'tcha?"
"I came with someone."
"D-don't lie to me. I s-s-saw you. All by your lonesome."
Letz's grin twisted into something nauseatingly depraved.
"C-can't be having that. Banding together is the rule in the Demonic Borderlands. You know slavery is l-legal out here in the frontier, don't you? A pretty little thing like you will get snatched up in no time, eh?"
The words carried an unmistakable threat: cooperate, or be sold off in chains. Reed kept his voice steady and calm.
"So? What do you want?"
"C-come with us. Heheh. We'll look after you. Y-you'll enjoy it too, no doubt about it! A real, real good time."
The thugs behind him tapped the hilts of their swords—a blunt signal that refusal would be met with immediate force. It was undeniably a perilous situation, yet an icy calm washed over Reed's mind. Having grown up in the slums, he had seen plenty of vile bastards preying on vulnerable children. He knew precisely how to deal with vermin like this.
"Fine, then. I'll go with you."
"G-good choice. Good lad. I, I like obedient boys. Come on. Over here, let's go this way."
Letz grabbed Reed by the arm and steered him away from the campsite, his greasy fingers already groping along the way. In the wide-open wasteland, several campers noticed Letz and his gang leading the boy off into the shadows. Yet every one of them looked away. Whether in the back alleys of Asterritz or out here in the West, those without the strength to defend themselves were simply devoured.
After leading him a short distance, Letz found a suitable thicket. He glanced back at his men.
"K-keep watch for a bit. I'll s-swap with you real quick."
Evidently, the creature possessed just enough shame to post a lookout and avoid prying eyes. Once the two accomplices moved off to set up their perimeter, Letz chuckled and fumbled with the buckle of his trousers. His fingers trembled with such eager haste that the belt wouldn't give. Even as he struggled, he leaned his face right against Reed's cheek, breath rancid as a cesspool washing over the boy's skin.
"D-don't worry, now. Since it's your f-first time, I'll be gentle—"
In that split second, Reed clamped his teeth onto Letz's ear with all the strength in his jaw.
Rrrrip!
Tender cartilage tore away. Letz convulsed in agony, his half-lowered trousers tangling around his knees and sending him crashing clumsily into the dirt. A beat late, he drew breath to shriek, but Reed moved faster.
Earth Control
A mass of soil surged up from the ground and enveloped Letz's head.
When Reed had first received this gift from Ur, he had wrestled with how to use it. Manipulating earth was undoubtedly versatile, but its sheer killing power seemed lacking. It didn't strike hard enough to crush bone, and burying an adult alive required far more soil than his current control could command. After racking his brains, he had devised this precise method: shoving earth directly into the eyes, nose, and mouth.
"Ghk! Mmph!"
Choking violently, Letz clawed at his face, trying desperately to spit out the dirt, but the more he thrashed, the deeper the soil compacted into his airway, crushing his windpipe. Unable to draw air, he couldn't even manage a whimper to alert his accomplices. He writhed across the dirt in frantic torment before finally slumping still.
"..."
It was a brutal way to die. Letz's suffocated, contorted face was a gruesome sight, but he had brought it entirely upon himself. Reed spat out the bloody scrap of flesh from his mouth and muttered under his breath.
"Ptui. Lady Ur. That's one soul sent up to you. Or should I say sent down?"
Would Ur find any satisfaction in the sacrifice of a depraved predator? He could only hope the divine mother wasn't overly particular about her meals.
Reed searched the corpse, pocketing a one-handed sword and a dagger. Before rigor mortis could set in, he stripped off the padded armor. It smelled musty, as though it hadn't seen water in months, and hung far too loose on his lean frame, but it was leagues better than having nothing at all.
Now for the real problem.
Letz's companions would be back any minute. The instant they discovered Letz's body, they would show no mercy; Reed had to strike first.
Taking on both at once with my current magic is too risky.
Magic was no miracle cure. With his present control, managing one opponent was feasible, but handling two simultaneously invited disaster. Yet panic never entered Reed's mind. He had survived the cutthroat slums long before acquiring magic, weathering crises like this more times than he could count. If brute strength fell short, cunning and preparation would bridge the gap.
Reed quickly gathered a mound of loose dirt and draped his discarded tunic over it. In the darkness, it looked convincingly like a person lying on the ground. When he hauled Letz's corpse on top, it formed the unmistakable silhouette of Letz leaning over his prize. Slipping into the shallow thicket, Reed concealed himself and waited.
He briefly considered drawing Letz's sword, but chose his familiar iron shovel instead. Wielding an unfamiliar weapon in life-or-death combat was an invitation to an early grave.
After several tense minutes, footsteps approached through the brush.
"What's taking him so long? Look at that—the bastard fell right asleep."
"Heh-heh. Must really fancy his new pet, huh?"
Fortunately, neither of them suspected a thing. The hawk-nosed mercenary sighed, while the short, stocky one grinned lewdly as he strolled toward Letz. The short man reached out to shake Letz's shoulder to wake him, and only then caught sight of the horrific agony frozen on his leader's face and the packed earth bulging from his slack mouth.
"What the—?"
In that split second, Reed erupted from the brush.
His target was the hawk-nosed man idling behind.
CLANG!
The edge of the shovel slammed square into the back of Hawk-Nose's skull. With little substance inside to dampen the blow, the strike produced a remarkably crisp, ringing crack.
"A-agh..."
Letting out a feeble groan, Hawk-Nose pitched forward into the dirt. Only then did the short mercenary react, whipping his blade from its scabbard and leveling it toward Reed. The fluid motion belonged to someone seasoned in swordplay.
"You little piece of shit!"
Without a moment's hesitation, the short mercenary lunged.
True to his compact build, his footwork was blindingly fast. Reed attempted to summon the soil to intercept him, but the man moved too quickly; the distance vanished in the blink of an eye.
Damn it.
A spike of alarm drove through Reed. While he had pulled off an ambush through surprise, his opponent was a trained killer. He couldn't win a direct clash of steel, nor could he easily target someone closing the gap at full tilt with his earth magic. At this rate, he would end up a cold corpse rolling in the dirt alongside Letz—or worse, subdued and subjected to unspeakable horrors. That was an outcome far worse than death.
If only I could stop his charge... Wait.
A realization struck Reed like a bolt of lightning.
To people, the ground is just a floor to step on—nothing more, nothing less.
Nobody walked the earth expecting the ground beneath their feet to suddenly collapse. The charging swordsman was no exception; his eyes were glued entirely to Reed, barreling forward with single-minded bloodlust. He wasn't paying the slightest attention to his footing.
Reed dropped to both knees. He slammed his palms into the dirt and poured his focus into the ground. Seeing him drop, the short mercenary sneered savagely.
"Begging won't save you now!"
Just as the man planted his foot for the killing lunge, the earth beneath his boot parted violently to either side. Stepping into the sudden pitfall, he lost his footing entirely.
"Whoa—!"
Crash!
Carried forward by the full momentum of his charge, the short mercenary tumbled head over heels. The spectacle looked almost comical from afar, but for the man himself, the world spun violently out of control. Rolling violently across the rocky ground, battered and disoriented, he scrambled frantically to his feet. He had no idea what had just occurred, but he knew the boy had done it. He had to butcher the kid right now.
Yet his bruised, rattled body refused to obey. Every attempt to steady his balance sent him pitching back onto the ground. And toward his upturned face, a heavy mass of earth surged forward.
"Ghk! Mmph!"
Clawing wildly at his face in suffocating terror, the short mercenary thrashed against the dirt, twitched a few times, and finally ceased all movement.
"Whew..."
Only then did Reed collapse back against the earth. Sweat poured down his face like rain. Whether the exhaustion stemmed from sheer adrenaline or casting magic in rapid succession, he couldn't tell. Catching his breath in the silence, he forced his trembling legs to stand.
Systematically, he stripped the three corpses of everything of value—coins, weapons, and armor in serviceable condition were all collected and set aside. Stripped bare, the three bodies laid out side by side looked thoroughly pathetic.
"Tsk. Good riddance. Filthy bastards."
Clicking his tongue, Reed carved out a deep trench using his magic and rolled the bodies into the pit. His moniker had once been 'Gravekeeper,' after all; enemy or not, he was more than willing to provide a grave. Though in truth, it was primarily to offer them up as sacrifices to Ur.
Come to think of it, I dug that pretty deep, yet the magic still answers without a hitch.
As far as Reed understood, magic required mana as its fuel. The faint, warm energy undulating around his heart was surely that very power. Yet despite fighting consecutive skirmishes and excavating a burial trench, he felt no sign of exhaustion in his reserves.
Did Lady Ur bestow far more mana upon me than I realized? Why? Is she naturally a generous deity?
Or perhaps... the sheer number of bodies he had unwittingly returned to the earth over the years had piled up into an immense offering?
With his work finished, Reed returned to the campsite. The travelers who were still awake stared at him with wide, startled eyes. Reed deliberately carried the weapons and gear stripped from Letz's gang out in the open. The look in the onlookers' eyes shifted instantly.
A young boy dragged off by three grown cutthroats had returned alone, carrying their gear after burying all three. How could they not be stunned?
"Child. Over here, the wind isn't as harsh. It's warmer."
One traveler even went so far as to offer him a spot beside their bedroll. In this savage frontier where no one knew what horrors might crawl out of the dark, having a boy capable of wiping out three grown men resting beside them offered immense peace of mind.
Reed let out a dry chuckle at the unprovoked hospitality, but he didn't decline the offer. Wrapping Letz's salvaged cloak around himself like a blanket, he looked up at the night sky.
A dense carpet of stars glittered with fierce intensity, competing against the encroaching dark much like men struggled down below.
Looked the other way when I was dragged off, but roll out the welcome mat once I walk back alive, huh.
Reed was beginning to grasp the true nature of the West. At its core, this frontier wasn't so different from the slums he had clawed his way out of—a brutal world governed solely by the law of might. A land of opportunity where even filth like Letz could seek a fresh start. And seizing that opportunity was entirely up to Reed.
On his first night in the Demonic Borderlands, Reed had learned how to apply his magic, and he had learned what kind of world the western frontier truly was. Since every scrap of that knowledge had come courtesy of Letz and his gang, perhaps they truly deserved to be called fine teachers.
The following day, the wagon train pressed on without pause. Until the blazing afternoon sun reached its zenith, nothing unusual occurred. There were no monster attacks, nor were there bandit raids. Everything appeared smooth and orderly.
The trouble struck late in the afternoon.
CRACK!
Whether it had struck a rogue boulder or worn through from strain, the front wheel of the lead wagon splintered apart. The man in charge of the caravan—a merchant and recruiter—hastened to reassure the unsettled travelers.
"Remain calm! We have spare wheels and a wheelwright with us! It will be repaired in no time!"
Yet contrary to his confident assurances, it was not until the sun had completely set that the craftsman finally managed to patch the wheel. Whether the chassis itself had warped during the accident or the technician was simply incompetent remained unclear. Regardless, half a day had been completely squandered.
And the following morning, the merchant summoned everyone together.
"It seems we must alter our plans."