The desert wind stung my face with biting grains of sand. I sat awkwardly atop the camel, my body compensating for the for the animal's uneven gait with minor adjustments.
Freid and Surt rode ahead, leading the way through the bleached landscape dotted with ancient machinery.
To the west, spires of rusted metal pierced the skyline- old war relics, or perhaps remnants of ancient cities that had long lost her name. This planet was far older than I anticipated. I suppose age had not been kind to this world.
"That right there is Scarfield," Freid called out, pointing towards the jagged canyon that cleaved the horizon in two. "Used to be a lake, but some old bastard tried to awaken an Beast to irrigate a land. Stupid fucker split the whole valley."
"Beast...?" I said in an ill-witted manner.
Surt glanced back at me.
"Ah, right, you're an Outworlder. Beasts are...well nobody knows exactly what they are or where they came from. Some say they're weapons from the Heavenly War, while some say they're monsters born of human evils. All I know is that they don't bleed normal blood and don't die normal deaths."
"And you fight those things!" Freid added. "And it didn't seem like you're first time hunting beasts a well."
"I...suppose? My father put me through intense training for as long as I could remember. I am still green."
Surt chuckled. "Well, you're better than the most of the mercs here."
We rode in silence for a time. The deserted shifted, it's sands turning gray, then red, then black - a sign of volcanic activity, or something capable of replicating the same effect. Just what had the Heavenly War done to these people?
Eventually, we came to a rise where we could see it: Saranhell
It was a city carved into a crumbling mesa, it's out wall patched with scrap metal and glowing sigils. Tall, arching scaffolds jutting into the air like ribs, with plumes of smoke billowing from forges.
"Welcome to the Furnace of the Barrens, brother! City of Fire and Trade. It is our home - more or less."
"It looks like it's dying."
Freid blinked. Surt just sighed.
"It is," he replied. "But it's ours."
They were quiet after that. I wondered if I said something wrong, but the emotion amidst their silence was closer to resignation than offense.
___
We arrived at Saranhell the next morning as the entrance gates creaked open. Armed guards checked us at the entry point, but waved us through with a nod from Freid and Surt.
The streets buzzed with life - flesh and metal, fire and trade. Vendors shouted in strange dialects while children played and zipped throughout the steam-choked alleys, and towering brass machinery carried crates en mass.
"So many people..." I said with a mystified look.
"Welcome to the city, brother! If you'd like, I could show you around town, maybe even introduce you to some exotic women." Surt said, letting out a hearty laugh.
I had no particular interest in either men or women, nor did I have the physical capacity to derive such pleasure from them.
However, such experiences may be useful for understanding the human heart, so it was no completely off of the table.
As we moved deeper towards the town center, the voices of children grew quiet, and the bustle of the city came to a standstill. The atmosphere was less akin to fear, and more like respect and awe.
At the center platform of the town hall stood a massive spire of black, it's surface engraved with runic symbolism. It radiated a familiar energy.
Roughly two dozen soldiers stood at the base of the platform, with one man in particular emanating an air of authority. He stood at around 5'10, with slick auburn hair and a clean shaven face. His appearance embodied the eloquence of knighthood.
It was clear from a single glance that this man was a powerful existence.
"That guy...!" Freid's eyes widened with awe, as though gazing upon a king.
"Who is that man?" I said in a whispered tone.
"You kiddin' me?! That's one of the Divine Generals! Xerxes of the 7th Seat. He's one of the top dogs of the capital!"
Xerxes stood before the people, his countenance containing the sternness of a leader. "Greetings, citizens of Saranhell! We've received information of an ancient Beast sealed within this region, and we would like to ask for your humble cooperation. We apologize for the inconvenience, but you must evacuate the area immediately!"
The guards helped escort the civilians away from the site of the black spire, but I couldn't afford to let this opportunity slide. I would gain an audience with this man, one way or another.
Ignoring the evacuation order, I dashed past the hordes of citizens with easy, landing at the center of the platform.
Unsurprisingly, the soldiers drew their swords and pointed their swords at me. "Halt! You must not come any closer. Evacuate immediately or this will be considered an obstruction of justice!"
I raised my hands above my head. "I am not here to cause you trouble. I merely seek audience with Xerxes of the 7th Seat."
"How dare you! Know your place!"
Ah...it seems that I have invited their anger. Perhaps my charisma may need some work on this world.
Xerxes turned around, raising his right hand in the air. The simple gesture caused the men to retract their blades and stand in formation.
He looked me down, as though trying to ascertain my identity.
"Who are you, boy? You do not appear to be from these lands. State your name and place of origin."
A rigid man. From his manner of speech to his physical mannerisms, he was the textbook definition of a knight.
"I am Ereth, son of Zoltin of the Promised Victory. I seek the title of the Immortal Sword Saint in the interest of my father."
"..." Silence consumed the town center at my declaration. The knights looked at each other and gossiped among themselves.
"Haha...HAHAHA!" Xerxes couldn't withhold his bellowing laughter any longer. "The son of the former Immortal Sword Saint? You are his offspring? You jest!"
"This is no joke, Divine General. Is such a claim so unreasonable?"
"You have no idea, do you pretender?" His expression changed once again, his laughter subsided.
"The Immortal Sword Saint died 1000 years ago."