As Astel's fingers wrapped around the wooden hilt of the spear, he felt something in his mind awaken. He could feel the presence of the notion—it was like sensing a lost limb, like a part of him that had been missing finally returned.
He dismissed the notion, but his hand lingered on the spear's echo. A wide grin spread across his face.
"I'll be back soon," he said, before covering his face and rushing outside, up to the roof.
As soon as the sandstorm hit him again, he started to regret his words. He was scared. But he had already decided—he would return Sev's trust by trusting in his decision.
He once again channeled his energy to enhance his senses. The pain brought him down to one knee, blood dripping from his nose.
The voice in his head screamed, "Seriously, brat, stop doing that. You won't be able to handle the consequences."
Ignoring the voice, Astel stood up and started walking toward the distant shifting sand. He took one step and fell again to his knees. His head was screaming, begging for rest—but he knew he couldn't stop now.
He shook his head, easing the pain, then stood again. He started sprinting, reaching the edge of the roof in just a few steps before leaping off.
He landed on the moving sand, his feet sinking beneath the surface. The caravan was moving away from him. If he wasn't fast enough, he'd lose them… and be stuck here, all alone.
Already knowing where to go, he took long strides through the stormy desert until he reached an area where the sand seemed to boil. Bubbles formed deep beneath the surface in a large circular area before erupting upward, displacing the sand with unnatural force.
Astel moved to stand in the middle of the circle. His heart was pounding faster than ever, his lungs on fire, and the pain—overwhelming. Just reaching the center made his head spin. He could barely stand.
Then the sand stopped bubbling.
Moments later, giant teeth surrounded Astel from all sides.
The familiar pressure weighed down on him, almost knocking him unconscious. Thousands of voices filled his mind, making him lose focus.
A giant sand worm emerged from the sand, threatening to swallow him whole.
Astel reacted fast—summoning the spear and extending it as far as he could. As the worm began to close its mouth, it was suddenly impaled from the inside, with Astel clinging to the long shaft of the spear to avoid being devoured.
The monster was already dozens of meters above the ground when Astel, still holding on with everything he had, felt the creature's circular maw begin to move again.
The worm had woken from the pain and was now trying to close its mouth once more.
Astel noticed the spear starting to bend. It wouldn't hold. But he had to buy more time.
In a split-second decision, he dismissed the spear—and immediately began falling deeper inside the worm as its mouth fully closed.
He tried to summon the spear again, but it wouldn't materialize. His mind was under too much stress.
Focusing every last ounce of his remaining energy on his Control Fragment, he managed to grasp a few precious moments of clarity—just enough to summon his notion.
The spear finally materialized in his hands as he fell. He drove the blade into the sand worm's fleshy walls, cutting a line downward and bringing himself to a halt.
The monster stirred, writhing violently. Astel nearly lost his grip.
The flesh was dry, but the air inside the beast was oddly humid. Stifling. Hot—far hotter than outside.
Looking down, Astel saw another row of teeth below. Beyond them, something reeked of rot and death. The familiar scent twisted his stomach.
He couldn't hold on anymore.
The pressure, the heat, the stench—it was too much.
Just before his hands gave out, he dismissed the spear and reached within himself, toward his other notion.
Suddenly, he was enveloped by darkness darker than black. His surroundings vanished. There was no sound, no light—but he could instinctively feel the world around him, or at least the shadows.
With one step, he disappeared.
*
Sev stared out his window as a silhouette of the giant sand worm burst from the ground, letting out a horrible screech.
"Let's hope the boy can survive this," he mumbled, amazed by the sheer scale of the beast, its form veiled by the raging sandstorm.
*
Astel emerged from the deep shadows inside the supply wagon. He rolled across the floor until he slammed into a nearby crate, knocking himself unconscious.
Some time later, he finally opened his eyes.
His entire body was beaten and bloodied. His mind still throbbed from the fight. He tried to push himself up, but there was no strength in his limbs.
He listened. The outside was quiet.
Too quiet.
'Did the storm pass already?' he wondered.
Then another thought hit him.
'What about that worm?'
Adrenaline surged through him. He tried again. This time he forced himself to stand, dragging his feet toward the door. One hand clutched his shoulder, the other using crates to steady himself.
Eventually, he reached the wagon door.
He placed a trembling hand on it and pushed. As the door swung open, so did his body—he fell out, crashing into the shining prismarine sand.
The sky was clear. The caravan was moving again—headed toward the mountains.
As the last bit of adrenaline drained away, Astel had only one thought as the caravan slowly drifted further from him.
'Please… don't… leave me here.'
His hand reached out toward them—
Then darkness took him.
When he came to again, he was lying on a soft bed in a small room. There was a warm scent of something delicious in the air.
He tried to move, but before he could, a voice spoke:
"Ah, you're awake. You must be hungry."
Astel didn't recognize the voice at first, so he simply nodded.
A young man in a modified black suit approached, carrying a wooden bowl in his hands.
Astel mumbled, "Sev? You're… alive?"
Sev sat in a chair beside the bed, helping Astel into a sitting position before smiling.
"Because of you."
Astel frowned. "What happened?"
Sev raised a spoonful of soup and gently fed it to him.
"I don't know what you did, but you drove that monster away. You saved us. You saved them."
He motioned toward the window, where dozens of lost souls gathered.
"To them, you're a hero."
Astel stared, dazed. The word hero lingered in his mind.
His hand twitched under the blanket. The word didn't land like it should have.
Not after crawling through a monster's gut.
Not after almost being left behind.
He felt... numb.
'Hero… Isn't that what I've always wanted?' he thought, as his face curled into a frown.
'Why am I not happy, then?'
Sev fed him another spoonful of the fragrant soup.
"They found you out in the sand, unconscious. They brought you back here—hailing you as their savior."
Astel didn't have the strength to process it. Instead, he asked:
"Will we get to the mountains safely?"
Sev paused, then answered:
"If you can recover soon, then yes. If not… maybe. It's risky."
Astel's expression darkened.
After feeding him, Sev left—saying he needed to prepare for the second return point.
Left alone, Astel circulated his energy, trying to recover his body even a little faster.
But the expectations weighed on him.
When he was done, he simply stared at the ceiling.
After a while, he began to wonder—
'What did being a hero even mean? Why had he wanted it in the first place?'
His memories were hazy. He knew he had to find his family, but at some point… that stopped being his priority. They weren't here. Not now.
But the people outside this room were.
And Sev—he was the one who made all of this possible.
Without him, Astel would've been dead. He never would've become the hero he so desperately wished to be.
Even if that wish now felt like it belonged to someone else.
He owed his life to Sev.
And he owed it to the lost souls to protect them.
Slowly, his doubt gave way to purpose.
The pride of the title hero began to outweigh the burden it carried.
His goals shifted.
He would help Sev protect these people—
Even if it cost him his life.