Powerlessness is Sin
Zeon hurriedly followed Dayton into the portal.
Once again, tremendous pressure bore down on him, but having experienced it before, he didn't lose his mental grip this time.
"Where's this?"
It was the middle of a scorching desert, sunlight blazing down relentlessly.
Just moments ago, they'd been in a space where volcanoes were erupting, yet the scenery had changed like magic.
No matter where he looked, all he could see was hot, glowing sand.
There wasn't a single landmark to pinpoint their location.
Zeon asked Dayton.
"Where are we?"
Whoosh!
Instead of answering, Dayton grabbed Zeon's wrist and twisted it viciously.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
"I don't see a rank badge on your wrist. But I clearly saw you using sand."
"Urk!"
Zeon groaned in agony as his wrist felt like it was being crushed.
It was as if a massive press had clamped down on his arm.
He tried to wrench it free with all his strength, but it was futile.
Dayton's power was far beyond what he could handle.
The excruciating pain forced Zeon to his knees.
He finally understood the saying that extreme pain silenced even screams.
Dayton released Zeon's arm and said,
"Well, with so many Awakeners around, it's not that strange to have a freak like you."
"Gah!"
Only then did Zeon let out the groan he'd been holding back. The pain hadn't fully subsided.
For a moment, Zeon lost his reason and shouted,
"You goddamn old bastard! My arm nearly snapped!"
"You're such a bitchin' weakling."
"You...!"
Unable to contain his rage, Zeon unleashed Sand Blaster.
Boom!
The high-pressure sand blast slammed into Dayton's chest. But not a single scratch marred Dayton's torso.
Dayton brushed the sand off his chest and chuckled.
"You definitely awakened a sand-manipulating ability. Heh heh!"
"So what? What have you done for me?"
"From now on, you're coming with me, bitchin'!"
"My name's Zeon. Not bitchin'... you bitchin' old bastard."
"Weak means bitchin'."
"You...!"
"One more word out of you, and I'll rip your mouth apart."
"Kuh!"
Zeon clamped his mouth shut without realizing it.
His reason returned then.
The old man before him was a monster who'd hunted the Crimson Drake, the final boss of the dungeon.
He wasn't someone normal logic applied to.
Zeon had lashed out in a moment of lost reason, but he was no match for Dayton from the start.
To Dayton's eyes, Zeon was less than an ant.
A pathetic thing he could squash with a finger.
No matter what Zeon did, he couldn't even resist.
Dayton suddenly glanced at Clayon and muttered,
"Yeah! You're barely F-rank now. It'll take a long time to make you useful."
"......"
"Heh heh! Just grind him down hard. If he doesn't die, he'll get stronger."
Muttering to himself while staring at Clayon, he didn't look sane at all.
'I've gotten totally screwed by a properly insane old man.'
There was nowhere to hide in the endless desert.
Escape was a pipe dream.
Until he gained power, Zeon had no choice but to stick with Dayton.
Dayton said,
"Follow me."
"Yes!"
Zeon sighed and trailed after Dayton.
'Lack of power is a sin. A sin!'
Dayton seemed utterly unaffected by the heat.
He trudged across the shadeless desert without showing any fatigue or discomfort from the sun.
Zeon, following behind, was on the verge of collapse.
The sand sinking up to his ankles drained his stamina with every step, and the blazing sun tormented him.
His whole body was soaked in sweat long ago.
"Huff... huff!"
His breathing grew ragged, his steps slowing.
That was when Dayton spoke.
"Hmph! What an idiot. Can't even utilize one percent of your ability."
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't you awaken sand manipulation?"
"So?"
"Use the sand, then. Why walk so painfully?"
"You make it sound easy. I only awakened the day before yesterday."
"So what?"
"Seriously!"
Zeon bristled. Dayton stopped and turned.
Pity was clear in his eyes as he looked at Zeon.
That gaze made Zeon flare up again.
"I'm F-rank! Not some high-rank Awakener like you."
"That's why you're a bitchin'. F-rank or S-rank—what's the difference? You think anyone starts at S? Sure, some are born blessed. But if you're not, you gonna give up? To others, you might look blessed enough. So quit whining and figure out how to use your ability. What good's a healthy body if your head's bitchin'?"
"Can you stop calling me bitchin'?"
"If you hate the word, smash that thick skull of yours first. Until then, you're the king of bitchins'."
Zeon shut his mouth, not even breaking even.
Dayton turned and said,
"It's your ability. You should know it best. So figure out how to grow it and use it yourself."
"What if I can't?"
"You'll die."
"Huh?"
"Either by me or that sun—one or the other."
"......"
With that, Dayton resumed walking.
Two long footprints trailed behind him.
Zeon glared at Dayton's back.
'Bitchin'? Smash my thick skull?'
Something surged from deep in his chest.
It was rage.
Rage at Dayton, rage at himself.
The two furies merged and blazed fiercely.
Zeon gritted his teeth.
'Fine! I'll make you eat those words. You won't call me bitchin' again.'
With renewed resolve, Zeon followed Dayton. And he thought.
'My power is sand manipulation. So I need to use sand.'
Even after awakening as a Sand Mage, he hadn't grasped his ability's full extent.
He'd only used it improvisationally to escape crises.
This was his chance to define his limits clearly. And to rigorously explore its potential.
Zeon circulated his mana. The surrounding sand responded, drawn to him.
Like iron filings to a magnet.
'About a five-meter radius around me?'
Nearby sand moved fast; distant sand sluggishly.
It moved, but slowly.
Another issue to ponder.
But Zeon set it aside.
A more pressing problem demanded attention first.
Sink!
The ankle-deep sand was the culprit.
Each step devoured massive stamina. Without solving it, he'd fall behind in the desert for sure.
'Condense the sand underfoot to harden my stepping surface?'
The method he'd used crossing the lava river.
Zeon instantly hardened the sand beneath his feet.
Walking became much easier.
Like treading a stone-paved floor—no effort.
But there was a problem.
Mana consumption was extreme.
Each hardening drained huge chunks.
At this rate, he'd exhaust it in dozens of meters.
Zeon abandoned the method.
He could vividly picture his fate mana-less.
'Roasted mummified by the sun, or monster chow first.'
Horrifying just to imagine.
Zeon considered the next approach.
'My mana pool's still small. Blind consumption won't last in the desert. Need efficient ways that minimize mana use.'
Next, he concentrated mana in his legs. It lightened his steps, sharply cutting stamina drain.
But Zeon discarded this too.
High utility now, but it ignored his sand ability.
He was a Sand Mage.
He had to hone sand manipulation.
It'd hurt short-term, but for the future, no choice.
Third option: Manipulate the sand touching his soles.
'Sole-sized, one centimeter thick.'
Zeon focused.
Narrow focus was harder than wide control.
Over-concentrated mana dispersed the sand instead.
He lost balance, face-planting into the sand.
"Urgh!"
Soft sand spared injury, but his mouth filled with grit.
"Ptoo! Ptoo!"
Zeon spat it out and stood.
Already parched without water, the sand dried him worse.
"Haa!"
Exhaustion etched his face.
Dayton was visible far ahead.
He never once looked back.
As if Zeon's survival meant nothing.
That fueled Zeon's anger more.
"Who got me into this mess?"
Rage boiled again.
Without Dayton, he'd be resting comfy at the magistone mine.
The pain and exhaustion drowned reason in resentment toward Dayton.
Zeon felt himself going mad.
Without a solution soon, he'd truly snap.
'Again!'
Zeon refocused on the sand underfoot.
It began shifting slowly, carrying his body.
Like train wheels on rails.
But terribly slow.
He wasn't adept at mana control yet.
Slight distraction scattered the sand.
Face-plant again.
Growing weary, Zeon persisted.
Over and over, rising to focus on the sand below.
His efforts bore fruit.
He grew accustomed to handling it.
The sand bore him smoothly forward.
Shhh!
It seemed the sand moved itself. But it was Zeon's culmination.
Countless falls and deliberations enabled it.
Still, mana waste was high.
Won't last long.
Zeon concentrated to optimize mana flow.
Mana held precariously; movement eased.
Dayton sensed Zeon's progress without turning.
Mana flow, air shifts, breathing told him much.
No need to look.
Dayton muttered,
"A slightly less bitchin' one now."
By his standards, still lacking.