Adlet stepped out of the infirmary, the quiet murmur of healers and groans of the wounded fading behind him as the door closed. The cool air of the academy grounds brushed against his face, carrying distant echoes from the arena and the faint hum of life returning to normal.
He tightened the strap of his pack across his shoulder.
That was it, then.
No more matches.
No more waiting.
Next stop: the Horus Desert.
As he passed near the arena entrance, he noticed someone exiting through another corridor. Broad shoulders, short black hair, and that unmistakable presence.
Gillan.
The Horus protector had changed into simpler clothes: tough fabric, light armor plates, practical and built for travel. His aura didn't flare, but there was something in the way he carried himself that still felt like standing in front of a coiled weapon.
Adlet adjusted his path and walked toward him.
"Gillan."
He looked up at the sound of his name, his usually serious eyes softening just a little when he recognized him.
"Adlet."
They stopped a few steps apart — no tension this time, only mutual respect.
"You're coming from the infirmary," Gillan noted, glancing briefly over Adlet's shoulder back the way he'd come. "You alright?"
"I'm fine," Adlet replied. "Just checked in on a friend who got hurt during his match."
Gillan's expression remained neutral — curious, but not assuming anything.
"A strong opponent?"
"Very," Adlet said — a flicker of pride in his eyes. "But he'll recover fast. He's stubborn like that."
Gillan gave a short, approving nod.
"…Good."
A brief silence settled between them — not awkward, just heavy with everything that had happened in the arena.
"So," Adlet asked, breaking it, "what happens next for you? Heading somewhere for a mission? Or straight back to training?"
Gillan looked past him, toward the academy gates.
"I'm going home," he said simply. "Back to Eresh."
Adlet blinked. "Eresh?"
"The main city of the Horus Desert."
The words hit Adlet like a small jolt.
Of course.
"You live there," he said, more to himself than to Gillan.
Gillan inclined his head.
"And you?" he asked. "What comes next for you now that you've earned your promotion?"
Adlet didn't hesitate.
"I'm heading to the Horus Desert," he said, eyes steady with resolve.
"I want to grow stronger. I want to see what kind of place forged a Protector like you."
Gillan studied him for a moment — not with suspicion, but with a quiet, searching curiosity.
"That's a good decision," he said eventually. "But understand something: in the Horus Desert, Apexes aren't the only danger. The land itself will try to break you — heat, air, thirst, sandstorms. It's harsher than any other dangerous zone I've heard of."
Adlet's lips curved—not in arrogance, but in fierce anticipation.
"If surviving that environment can help me progress," he answered, "then I'll learn to tame it."
A flicker of approval crossed Gillan's face.
"With the level you're already at…" he said, "I don't doubt you can make it."
Another pause — then Gillan added, almost casually:
"In any case, I'm leaving today. We could travel together… if you want."
Adlet didn't even need to think.
"Traveling with someone who knows the place better than anyone I've met yet?" he replied. "I'd be stupid to refuse."
Gillan gave a small nod. "Then let's go."
Side by side, they left the academy behind.
The southwestern stairs of Tray were less crowded than usual. The tournament had drawn most people toward the upper districts around the arena, leaving the main stairway quieter — just a handful of merchants, a few returning patrols, and some supply carts rattling over the stone.
The stairs descended along the edge of the great plateau, carved cleanly from pale rock. The world beneath them spread outward — vast stretches of land disappearing into the dim horizon, the cool build-up of night settling into the air.
Adlet cast a last glance back at Tray — the banners, the towers, the familiar silhouette of the Darwin Academy.
"Does it feel strange to leave?" Gillan asked, noticing his look.
"Not really," Adlet answered. "Tray isn't home. It's just… one of the places on the way."
Gillan gave a short hum of understanding.
"What about you?" Adlet asked. "Eresh is home, right?"
"Yes," Gillan said. "The only place that's ever felt like it."
They walked in silence for a time, boots echoing on the steps as they descended. Once they reached the ground below the plateau, Adlet shifted his pack and matched pace with Gillan on the road.
"So where's your real starting point?" Gillan asked. "The village you grew up in."
"Eos," Adlet replied. "Small village. Lots of fields. Nothing interesting, according to almost everyone who lives there."
"And according to you?" Gillan asked.
Adlet smiled faintly.
"According to me, it was a good place to dream of leaving."
He told Gillan, in broad strokes, of his life before becoming a Protector: the forest near Eos, the rumors of monsters, the way he used to sneak into the woods to train and hunt, trying to prepare for a path he didn't even know how to reach.
"And after that?" Gillan asked. "You didn't just show up at a tournament out of nowhere."
Adlet recounted the Dark Woods — the looming wall, the patrol village, the trial that had pushed him to face Apexes alone for the first time. He spoke of the Dryad Forest's oppressive shadows, the Neraid Forest's humidity and tangled roots, the immense underground sea, and the roar of the Kraken at the Forbidden Island.
Gillan listened without interrupting — expression serious, but gaze intent.
"You've seen a lot for someone your age," he finally said. "More than I have."
Adlet glanced sideways at him, genuinely surprised.
"You're serious? You're one of the strongest protectors I've met. I thought you'd have fought everywhere by now."
Gillan shook his head.
"Until I came here for the promotion matches… I never left the Horus region, except for the promotion tournaments" he said. "One of the higher members of House Horus noticed me when I was still a child. My strength, my speed, my endurance—they said my body was suited to the desert. So they took me in, trained me."
"In the desert?" Adlet asked.
"In the desert," Gillan confirmed. "Heat training. Running across dunes until my legs collapsed. Fighting Apexes on unstable ground. Learning to move, breathe, and think while the air itself tried to suffocate me."
He said it without pride or exaggeration — only as fact.
Adlet pictured a younger Gillan sprinting under the burning winds, struggling for breath, rising again and again. The image resonated with something inside him.
"Sounds… intense," he said.
"It was," Gillan agreed. "But it gave me everything. A name. A place. A purpose. That's why I can't see myself anywhere else."
Adlet thought of the sea breeze on the Neraid coast. Of the groaning trees of the Dark Woods. Of the jagged cliffs of the Forbidden Island.
So many places… each filled with danger and wonder.
"And you?" he asked quietly. "You never felt curious about the world outside the desert?"
Gillan's steps slowed for just a second.
"…Sometimes," he admitted. "When you talk about forests, and seas that aren't just sand… I realize how many sights I've never earned the right to see."
Adlet raised a brow. "Earned the right?"
Gillan nodded.
"Since I was a child, my path has been set: train, grow stronger, protect the Horus lands. Everything else was… distraction."
His gaze remained fixed ahead — unwavering.
"But listening to you," he added, softer, "I wonder what it would feel like to stand somewhere that doesn't burn under the sun."
Adlet's smile carried no mockery — only understanding.
"When you're out there," he said, eyes lifting toward the Star-lit ceiling above, "the world feels so much bigger than you ever imagined… and somehow, so much closer too."
Gillan glanced at him, something new flickering behind his composed expression.
"…You talk like someone who's already changed."
Adlet took a deep breath, recalling the cold sea spray, the roaring waves, the ancient cliffs.
"Maybe I did," he murmured. "Every place I've been… left a mark."
Gillan turned his eyes back to the horizon — where a massive shadow of cliffside was starting to rise in the distance.
"Then I suppose," he said, certainty returning to his voice, "the desert will leave its mark on you too."
The road widened as they walked. Villages appeared here and there — clusters of low stone houses, small markets, people living simple lives far from the Apexes threat. They stopped a few times along the way: to refill waterskins, to buy dried meat, to ask directions at crossroads.
Adlet had planned to rely on village guidance alone.
Now, with Gillan walking beside him, people greeted them with a mix of curiosity and respect. Some recognized Gillan's name. Others only reacted to the aura that clung to them both.
Time blurred. Hours became a day, then more. Their pace remained steady, unhurried — but always moving forward.
Then, one evening, just as the Stars above brightened into a clearer phase, Adlet squinted at the horizon.
He slowed to a stop.
"…What is that?"
Gillan followed his gaze.
Far ahead — at first like a dark line, then growing, swelling, devouring the horizon — rose a colossal cliff of layered rock. It towered over everything around it, at least three hundred meters high, stretching so far in both directions that it seemed to merge with the curve of the world.
Adlet's throat went dry.
"That's… not a mountain," he said.
"No," Gillan agreed. "That's the edge."
"The edge of what?" Adlet asked, even though some part of him already knew.
"The Horus Desert," Gillan answered. "It's up there."
Adlet could barely speak.
The desert lived on top of that?
This world really hasn't run out of surprises yet…
They drew closer, the cliff's details sharpening. The rock was a deep, weathered orange, with veins of darker stone running through it like scars. The base was buttressed with old structures — observation platforms, small watch posts, waystones marking the official path.
They drew closer — and Adlet finally saw it:
A stairway carving its way up the vertical rock, zig-zagging like a scar.
Dozens of tiers.
Hundreds.
Maybe thousands.
A hundred meters wide.
Each step a massive block of carved sandstone.
"The Burning Steps," Gillan said. "The only direct land route to Eresh. The city is right above."
Adlet let out a quiet breathless laugh.
"I thought Tray's stairways were impressive. This is on a completely different scale."
The Burning Steps carved their way into the cliff face like a scar that refused to fade. They were enormous — at least a hundred meters wide — each step deep and solid, worn by countless feet but still sturdy.
As they drew nearer, another detail caught Adlet's eye.
Thick ropes — dozens of them — rose along both sides of the steps, stretching all the way to the top. Large platforms were attached to some of them, moving slowly up or down the cliff.
"What about those?" Adlet asked, pointing. "The platforms with ropes."
"Lifts," Gillan explained. "For cargo. And for people who don't have the strength — or the time — to climb the Steps."
Adlet watched one platform descend, creaking as it brought down crates, barrels, and weary travelers wrapped in light cloth. The mechanism was simple, but scaled to something monumental.
"It really is like Tray," Adlet murmured, "just… far bigger."
Gillan's gaze lingered on one of the platforms rising.
"When I was young," he said, "I used to sneak up to the lifts at the top. When they weren't moving, I'd stand at the edge and look out over everything below. I wanted to see how far the kingdom went."
Adlet looked at him, amused.
"So you do have a curious side."
Gillan almost smiled.
"Maybe. Once."
Adlet turned his eyes back to the horizon.
"When I was a kid, the only thing I had to look at was the Stars on the vault," he admitted. "I used to lie on the grass outside my village and stare at them for hours, imagining what the world was like beyond the places I knew."
"And?" Gillan asked.
"And now," Adlet said, feeling the truth of it settle into his bones, "I still haven't seen enough."
Gillan nodded, as if that answer satisfied something in him.
"Then let's go see more."
They began their ascent of the Burning Steps.
Even with years of training behind him, Adlet felt the effort. The steps were wide, but the incline was relentless — forcing his legs and lungs to work harder with each tier they climbed. The air sharpened, losing its cool softness for something drier, thinner.
His breath grew heavier, but not strained. This was a challenge, not a limit.
He glanced sideways at Gillan.
The desert-born protector climbed with an easy rhythm, posture relaxed but balanced, as if his body had been made for this path.
"How often have you climbed these?" Adlet asked.
Gillan's lips tightened — just slightly.
"Not enough times, unfortunately," he replied. "Most of my life has been spent deeper in the desert. Missions. Training. Survival. Leaving Horus lands…"
He paused — as if the words felt unusual.
"…is a rare privilege."
Adlet watched him for a moment — the strong, composed Protector who had stood like a wall in the arena.
There was more to him than stone and discipline.
"I hope we both get more reasons to use them," Adlet said.
Gillan gave a quiet breath — not quite a laugh, but close.
"So do I."
Ropes creaked near them as one of the lifts groaned upward, loaded with goods. Workers shouted brief commands to one another, adjusting tension, guiding its motion. The smell of heated rope, rock dust, and dry air blended around them.
Step after step, level after level.
By the time they neared the top, Adlet could feel a change not just in his muscles, but in the air itself.
It was warmer. Not choking, but harsher. The kind of warmth that didn't ask permission — it simply claimed space.
At last, the stairs leveled off. A wide stone archway marked the end of the Burning Steps and the beginning of something else entirely.
"Welcome," Gillan said, "to Eresh."
The city unfolded before them like a world carved from sand and stone.
Buildings of pale and golden sandstone rose in dense clusters, their flat roofs and layered terraces forming a jagged skyline beneath the glowing Stars. Some structures were tall and imposing, others modest, but all bore signs of adaptation — cloth awnings stretched between them for shade, wooden beams reinforcing old stone, glass-like crystals set in windows to reflect the light.
The streets were paved with smooth stone, though thin layers of sand had crept into every crack, dusting the ground like a golden veil carried by time and wind. Stalls lined the main avenue — canvas stretched overhead, merchants calling out to passing customers, their voices overlapping:
"Deep-well water — cold and fresh!"
"Dune suits and sandproof plates!"
"Red spices! Gold spices! Only from Horus caravans!"
The air vibrated with life — the clatter of wheels, the lowing of pack beasts, the rustle of fabric, the heated murmur of negotiations.
And beneath it all, Adlet felt something else.
A presence.
A kind of pressure, subtle but constant.
This was a city that faced danger every day — not from political games or petty crime, but from the land itself. Survival was in its stones.
"It's… bigger than I imagined," Adlet admitted.
",It has to be," Gillan said. "Eresh is the shield between the desert and the rest of the kingdom. Caravans pass through here. Patrols launch from here. Stories of people who never came back… start from here."
Adlet took it all in — the sandstone buildings, the faint dust in the air, the faces hardened by heat and wind, the glitter of metal badges on Protectors moving in small groups.
Gillan nodded toward a broad avenue cutting deeper into the city.
"Come on. I'll take you to the Protector Guild. You need to register your presence here, and they'll explain how things work in this region — missions, restrictions, what's expected from a Master Protector in Horus Desert."
Adlet felt his pulse quicken — not with fear, but with fierce anticipation.
"Good," he said. "I was hoping we'd get to that quickly."
"That's where I'm headed too," Gillan added.
"Then we're still walking the same path for a while longer," Adlet replied, satisfied.
They moved into the flow of the city — two figures among many, but glowing with an aura that made people step aside instinctively.
The sandstone walls around them seemed to rise higher as they approached the heart of Eresh. A distant building came into view — broader, taller, marked by a symbol carved into its facade: a stylized spiral with three branching lines, reminiscent of the one above the Protector posts in other regions, but framed by motifs of dunes and snakes.
The Guild of Protectors in Horus.
Adlet's fingers briefly brushed the bronze insignia at his chest.
So this is where it begins.
The forests, the seas, the Kraken, the Forbidden Island — all of it had led him to this place, standing at the threshold of a region built on endurance and unyielding will.
Whatever awaited him beyond this point…
He intended to conquer it.
Gillan glanced at him, as if sensing the resolve hardening in his gaze.
"You wanted to see what kind of place could forge a Protector like me," he said quietly. "You're about to find out."
Adlet nodded.
"And I'll make sure that when I leave this desert…" His voice was calm, steady — dangerously certain.
"…I won't just be someone who survived it.
I'll be someone it failed to break."
They stepped toward the Guild doors together.
The era of forests and sea had ended.
Now began the age of sand.