In the centre of the largest continent, filled with blooming gardens, swamps and meadows teeming with life, lay a barren wasteland called Shi Wong. It was an almost dead area of the Earth Kingdom that few dared to visit. Travelling between settlements here was practically impossible: it was impossible to find water along the way, and finding food that wouldn't kill you or leave a larva in your corpse was even more difficult.
That didn't mean there were no people here at all — soldiers, mercenaries, and travellers visited one of the settlements a couple of times a month. Merchants had made the local taverns their home, bringing lots of fruit and food, and in many establishments you could order a refreshing cocktail made from juicy fruits. I had seen many travellers since I was born, so I noticed a certain detail. The desert dwellers looked harsher against their backdrop.
Despite the benefits of civilisation, such as delicious food and drinking straws, only those who were strong in spirit and body could survive here, because the daily heat and sandstorms were torture for most people, and it was impossible to leave the safe and comfortable cities. Every adult travelled between settlements to trade, find odd jobs and provide for their families. Every child who reached the age of fourteen had to do the same. But...
Shurk*
"Phew... ah... - rubbing the hot sand with his bandaged feet, he approached the city gates. Sweat poured from his body, and breathing in the hot air was incredibly painful. His lungs felt like they were about to burst, and sand crunched between his teeth. Today he had made one more circle, stopping at the edge of the village.
Above his head, a sign with the name of our settlement, Misty Oasis, creaked. Endless wastelands appeared before his eyes; not far from the entrance, young men who had reached adulthood were gathering for a hike. They were ready to serve the settlement and fight for their lives against the harsh weather conditions. They were all training too, but only outside. I had never stepped outside the walls in my entire life.
Choose: 1 - Turn around and go to training (you will gain significant development) 2 - Go drink some fermented juice (you will be safe) 3 - Convince the children of your professionalism (you can try to start your own gang. You'll have less time to train, but your allies will have your back) 4 - Start a fight, kids often do that (Put your energy into becoming the local naked king. Relationships with peers will become heated.)" It was a subtle hint that if I left in my current state, I would die, if not instantly, then more or less quickly. That's why I had been training within the Oasis all this time, although it would be more accurate to say that I had been forced to adapt to the external conditions. In fact, there was nowhere to go — without a sailing boat and a couple of warriors, the most I could do was hang around the settlement itself, but that didn't stop the local children from mocking us.
"Dagot is too scared to come out again!
"I can already see how he'll earn a living when he gets out — no way!
Turning to the mockers, he made them all clench their fists. Some things didn't change even in my new life — the street kids, for whom any sidelong glance was considered an insult to their entire clan, their pets, and even their friends. God forbid you mention their parents in conversation with them, no matter what the context, because a fight would be inevitable.
But that was their right — I was unable to study the neighbourhood, I didn't study the dangerous animals that roamed outside, which meant I didn't try to become part of their culture. I just train like everyone else. In a word, I'm a slacker. And I accepted every word directed at me with full awareness of the other person's rightness. All I could do was retreat to my secluded place, the sand-covered playground.
"Okay, what are we working on today?" I leaned on the sand-covered metal bars and asked the air in a dejected mood. In order to keep up with the other children, I had to work a little harder: a hundred push-ups, sit-ups and squats, as well as a ten-kilometre run, were just my morning warm-up. It was exhausting, but it was my chance for a decent future. So that I wouldn't have to look over my shoulder in fear of every rustle, with the possibility of starting a family. It was either that or drink fermented juice for the rest of my life.
"Choose: 1 - Develop Earth magic. 2 - Sand magic."
"...Really? - A smile finally appeared on my face.
For the first time, I was given a choice of how to develop my magic. Yes, perhaps it was a lucky coincidence, but I was born a mage of the Earth. Although, how can I say lucky? It's probably the only magic that's difficult to develop as an underdeveloped child, so I had to work hard physically first. Every day, I had to run and lift heavy weights in the scorching heat and on loose ground.
All for this day. But...
"Where will I find earth in the desert?
In this place, instead of the Earth Mages' familiar continent, there were their Sand brethren. This magic was used both by conscientious residents who transported workers between cities on sailing boats and by local bandits. And the methods of application, as the locals say, were also different - there was no need to try to be as strong as a rock, you had to flow like water. With this combination of strength and fluidity, the sand turned into a deadly and very unique substance.
But there were also disadvantages, because to pick up each grain of sand separately and control them at high speed — to create tornadoes and attack desert animals — required unusual control.
"I am ready to train in sand magic," he thought, feeling a rush of excitement in his heart, hoping that it was not a blood clot, and stared into the air.
"Choose... 1 - Work hard until morning, rubbing your hands until they bleed (progress will be accelerated by your mental state) 2 - Train for an hour, then join a gang of sand bandits (progress will be accelerated by turning to the dark side)" There was a moment of tension. Yes, there was always an easier option — becoming a bandit meant taking the very easy path. Securing a life for yourself, eating well and not working for pennies sounded wonderful, which is why many magicians chose this option. But all I needed was to picture one image in front of my eyes, a shadow that I had once reached out to.
"Are you kidding? Even in my own world, I always refused such offers," I chose the first option.
"In that case, start pounding sand with your hands."
Anubis was heartless.
"Well... at least I can look forward to a tasty snack at home," I thought, remembering the sweet and juicy fruits that kept me from giving up during my usual training sessions, and I knelt down. I wrapped the bandages more tightly around my hands and, gasping for breath, set out on the road of suffering. To get to know the sand, I had to give it my blood. For the first day, my movements were no different from those of a human being. The sand hit my hands, rose into the air and, in retaliation for my roughness, flew into my eyes. However, after a couple of minutes, I was sitting with my eyes blindfolded so that I could better feel the impact of each touch.
By morning, I had to change the bloody bandages, rest, and then repeat everything again. Over time, I got used to the grains of sand under my hands.
***
To the quiet sound of cutlery, today's dinner was laid out on the dining table. Fruit and dried scorpion meat were a typical meal for a poor family. As I held my fork with slightly trembling, bandaged hands, my father, Tassad, recounted the day's events with a dissatisfied expression.
"My assistant fell under the sail today. The wind from a sandstorm blew the idiot away, and he lost control of the boat, which crushed and broke his arm. I'm tired of these guys — they don't know how to steer, so they shouldn't be in the caravan," said the always serious, tanned man, roughly breaking the scorpion's shell and sucking the meat out of it.
"How awful," his wife, a woman already covered in wrinkles, covered her mouth. Despite his mother's understandable reaction, Tassad still looked at her with a rather heavy gaze. This man... was a rough Sand Mage. His gaze, his attitude, everything reminded me of me, but he was genuinely rude to everyone - and generally kept his distance.
I can only remember two occasions when he showed any affection to anyone — shortly after I was born, when he picked me up, and a few years ago, when he called me over to watch him pound sand with his hands — a technique I learned from him. I don't know if it was fatherly love or if he was just showing off in front of his son, but the sight of the sand being cut and the waves spreading out like water left a lasting impression on me.
But most of the time, they were distant. I wasn't a model son, I had nothing to boast about, I had no friends, but I always caught my father's harsh gaze — just like now, as he told his story and condemned the former worker. At times like these, my mother tried not to pay any attention to what was going on.
I envy him... with my behaviour, I'll never have a wife. But even so, he deserved credit — he wasn't a fucking gangster.
"I won't be able to go on the next trip either. It's a shame, they were going to pay one and a half times more for it," he said, his gaze falling on my bandaged hands.
And at that moment...
"Choose: 1 - Offer to help your father. Casually mention that you are better than his former assistant (you will have the opportunity to leave the city with your protector. Your relationship with him will improve). 2 - Say nothing (most likely, there will be no fruit on the table for the whole of next week, only dried scorpions).3 - Offer to help your mother in the bar (You will be able to eat one piece of fruit per week. Your relationship with her will improve). Oh no... eat meat that tastes like sand without a sweet and rich snack?
My eyes glazed over. It was one of those moments when even Anubis couldn't help make my life any easier. It was a choice between a rock and a hard place.
My heart filled with blood. Exhaling quietly, I met my father's gaze.
"…You know, I'm sure it's not that hard. All you have to do is help support the sand tornado, right? Easy.
Silence hung in the room.
***
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