Region 32... The Wastelands...
After passing the towering gates of El'dan City, with all its experiences and difficulties, the Black Dragon, Josh Aratat, rode forth with his generals. Their destination was Cumba City, where they sought the rare toadstools of the Golden Toad—Xerm—found only in a region of the city known as Ruma. These toadstools were known to amplify a mage's magical power tremendously. With that, they would be able to solve the problem of food scarcity that could arise in the future.
But there was one glaring problem they hadn't anticipated: between the gates of El'dan City and the entrance to Cumba City stretched a cursed wasteland—an expanse shaped by the presence of a mythical creature that guarded its heart. No one had ever crossed its center and lived to tell the tale. Worse still, retreat was not an option; once the northern gate of El'dan closed behind them, it would only open for those leaving, never for those seeking re-entry.
The land they now rode through was utterly barren—no weeds, no grass, not even the whisper of a struggling root. It was dead land. The sands stretched endlessly, swallowing the horizon in every direction.
They rode hard, wind whipping past as hooves kicked up dust behind them. The path was barren, nearly lifeless—just miles of scorched earth and silence.
It wasn't until they passed a small, weather-worn settlement that they caught sight of anyone at all—just a scattering of people, their faces hollow from years of sun and sand.
Then, further along, they came upon a man and a woman deep in conversation. Their faces were wrapped in worn cloth, shielding them from the relentless sting of dust and wind. The man was Erale Arst, the woman, Aubrey—both shaped by the unforgiving climate of the wastelands, their skin toughened, their eyes sharp from surviving where few dared to linger.
Erale squinted as the group rode by on horseback.
"Who the hell do these arrogant fucks think they are?" he muttered through the fabric masking his mouth. "Riding horses through the wastelands like they own it... it's like they have a massive death wish. I give them two days. Once they reach the center and meet the Kraken, they won't even know how they died, in fact, all that'll be left is their sun-bleached bones."
But before he could laugh at his own words, Josh suddenly pulled his horse to a halt. It was a move that got his generals also curious, wondering what had made their leader suddenly stop.
The generals followed suit, stopping their horses in similar fashion.
Josh turned slowly, his black mask glinting faintly in the desert sun, and stared back at the two figures they'd just passed. Without a word, he dismounted. Conrad Stan and Ralia Amia did the same, falling into step beside him as he walked toward Erale and Aubrey, who were still mid-conversation.
"The Kraken will rip them apart," Erale continued, unaware of what loomed behind him. "Bloody amateurs. I might even get a few scraps of their horses when the beast's done."
Aubrey's eyes widened.
She froze.
Erale, catching her expression, turned around—and locked eyes with the masked figure standing a few feet away. The air seemed to thicken around him.
"Wh-What... how—?" Erale stammered.
"You called us arrogant fucks," Josh said evenly, his voice calm but colder than steel.
Erale began to tremble. "I swear on all my unborn children, I didn't mean it—!"
What Erale didn't realize was that every word he spoke had already reached Josh's ears. Thanks to his Kingly Awareness—amplified by the I Am King Protocol—Josh's perception stretched across a vast radius, allowing him to detect even the faintest sounds with crystal clarity. At its current C+ rank, his senses were sharper than an eagle's gaze, and nothing within range went unnoticed.
He had to maintain this heightened state of awareness constantly in the wastelands. Out here, ambushes came without warning, and the sands bred more thieves than travelers. One moment of carelessness could mean death.
Josh stood still, deep in thought, his imposing presence casting a long shadow.
Then Ralia Amia stepped forward.
"I know just how to punish him," she said softly. "And don't worry... I won't kill him."
At her words, Conrad Stan involuntarily shivered. The memory of Ralia's capabilities still haunted him. Before joining their ranks and becoming one of the Black Dragon's generals, she had been sent by Prince Alloysius himself—an assassin tasked with eliminating the Black Dragon. But she hadn't wielded blades or arrows. No, Ralia had shattered entire battalions with nothing but the sheer force of psychological torment.
Soldiers had dropped their weapons and collapsed, not from wounds, but from minds cracked open like glass under pressure. They became hollow vessels—breathing, blinking, but utterly broken—until she decided to stitch their sanity back together.
Ralia Amia was no mere empath. She was a living nightmare, wrapped in grace and shadow.
"Just don't go overboard," Josh said quietly as he stepped back.
Erale blinked, confused wondering what was going on as they exchanged glances—then suddenly, he screamed.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
His mind was plunged into an illusion so vivid it tore at his sanity. In the vision, his limbs were hacked apart, his flesh carved like butcher's meat. The agony felt horrifyingly real, and yet, not a single wound marred his actual body. His screams echoed across the dunes.
Ralia smiled, satisfied with her craft.
"That's enough," Josh finally said, and the illusion ceased.
Erale crumpled to the sand, twitching violently, as though someone had plugged his nervous system into a lightning rod. His face was pale, his mind shattered, his spirit drained. Whatever he'd seen in that brief moment had changed him. Likely forever.
He would not be uttering any more slurs in the wastelands.
While Erale Arst trembled on the ground, still reeling from the mental assault, Josh turned his piercing gaze to Aubrey. His voice cut through the dry wind like a blade.
"What is the Kraken... and what is this place?"
Aubrey stiffened, as though someone had doused her in freezing water. Her voice quivered, caught between fear and disbelief.
"The Kraken… it's a monster," she whispered. "An enormous octopus, the size of three full plots of land. Its limbs can tear through stone, let alone flesh. It guards the very heart of these wastelands. No one passes through and lives. That's why we're stuck here—El'dan's patrol won't let anyone back in once we've exited. So we linger… caught between a closed gate and a creature no one dares to challenge."
Josh stared at her, unmoving, unreadable behind the dark mask that concealed half his face. But deep within, a single thought stirred—a burning resolve that lit a fire behind his eyes.
He had to face the Kraken.
Not because it was wise. Not because it was necessary. But because it stood in his path—and nothing ever stood in his path for long.