Soleoreno

Can you believe I used to be the greatest adventurer?

Ryo sat down on a palm leaf, striking up a conversation with his friend as usual.

I was once hailed as the greatest adventurer on the continent and a master insect tamer, even relied upon by the king himself . . . To think I had a vast collection of ancient relics, too many to even count . . .

Ryo scooped up sand with his right hand. No matter how tightly he gripped it, once he opened his hand, the sand would simply slip from his fingers again.

What even were those days, those brilliant days, that he thought he had grasped?

Piloting an ancient insect-shaped relic known as a vibruntriark, or "woodbug," he led other adventurers in and out of ancient ruins left by a vanished civilization, competing with peers and thieves alike, in search of other relics imbued with advanced technology. His exploits earned him both wealth and prestige, and he often feasted on delicious meats and fruits, enjoyed the company of gorgeous women, and slept wrapped in silk bedding.

Those had been his glorious twenties.

Now, his days were dreary, sleeping and waking each day on the rocks and sand of a cavern prison cell.

Sunlight rarely found its way through a sole large crack in the rock ceiling above.

Heh . . . Unbelievable, right? Any of that . . .

Ryo, while glancing at his roughened hands, tried to read his friend's expression. His cellmate was, as usual, sitting on the sand, leaning against the rock wall. Despite having known him for a long time now, his friend's expressions were always hard to read.

The two of them had met here in this cave prison—The Rocks, as he called it.

As one man to another, they no longer had need for any pretenses.

However, Ryo always felt his taciturn friend didn't believe him, leading Ryo to often repeat the same stories. Somewhat embarrassed about that, Ryo scratched his unkempt hair.

I really did find it, you know? An incredibly precious treasure. The trophy every adventurer dreams about. A legendary ancient relic recorded even in the royal history tomes, said to bring infinite water to the land—the Aflaj . . . And I found it.

Ryo's words merely echoed emptily in the dry air and vastness of their rocky prison cell.

The intention behind the vastness of their cell must have been to accentuate the loneliness of prisoners it housed. That, or it was meant to hold a large number of prisoners. Either way, for now, it was just Ryo and his friend.

Guards didn't even come to check on them. There was only a single heavy iron door set into the rock face. Ryo wasn't even certain if this place was truly a prison or not. One day, he simply woke up here. What crime he was here for, he didn't even know. It was only when he discovered words his friend had carved into the rock wall that Ryo recognized this place was a part of a prison of sorts, but learned nothing more than that.

Ryo stared at the unchanging rock walls and let out a dry laugh.

. . . Quite the treatment for the man who found the Aflaj . . .

Ryo's clothes were tattered, his hair and beard were wildly overgrown, and his physique no longer held its former robustness.

Without any scented oils, his skin was also constantly dry.

He slowly exhaled and gave his friend a nod of gratitude.

Thanks for listening, brother. Sorry for always repeating the same stories.

I can’t just keep benefitting from his company without offering anything in return.

By the way . . .

Ryo clapped his hands together as he changed the subject.

So, brother . . . Once we get outta here, you've gotta try riding my woodbug, Soleoreno. Sol's my partner. I handpicked ancient wings and legs for him, and covered him in fresh moss and wildflowers . . . He's so cool. Beautiful, really. The echo of his wings, the noise his legs make, even the sound of his steam jets . . .

A lilt of excitement danced in Ryo's voice.

Just imagining Soleoreno brought a carefree smile to his face.

Soleoreno was a beetle-shaped viburntriark, and Ryo had spent hours painstakingly modifying it. It had an impressive, shovel-like horn. It had wings that could control thunder-producing scale powder, forelegs that could spark fire, and claws that could freeze the air. It also had a ventral plate that could produce strong threads, and several other special ancient parts.

I promise, brother. When we leave here, we leave here together. Someday, we'll fly together on Sol.

His friend always listened silently to what Ryo had to say—complaints or grudges, curses or boasts, lewd jokes, silly stories, utter nonsense, or even fairy tales, he listened to it all.

This friend was Ryo's senior in the rock prison, having been interned here long ago. He was far more accustomed to life here than Ryo. After residing in The Rocks for such a long time, little fazed him. Unlike Ryo, he had come to lead a life of stillness—without eating or drinking for about a hundred years—and now had become nothing but a figure of bones, hair, clothing, and jewelry.

And he was the only person Ryo could talk to.

When becoming friends, things like one's age, gender, status, birthplace, or upbringing don't matter. Nor does whatever deity one believes in. It doesn't even matter if one is alive or dead.

What matters is just being there—that's more than enough.

The fact that his friend was a skeleton was simply a minor detail. Everyone has a flaw or two. In fact, to Ryo, his friend being all bones felt more like a benefit.

After all, there wasn't enough food or water for the both of them.

The staple of Ryo's diet here was dried dates that had been gifted to him from the palm trees above his cell, which he could see through the crack in the ceiling. His thirst was barely quenched via trickles of water that seeped through the rocky walls.

So, having a skeleton cellmate was an advantage.

That was one thing Ryo discovered while living in this rock cave prison.

Ryo was an adventurer. "Finding" things was his specialty.

. . . I'll find one. I'll absolutely find a way out of here!

Ryo stood up and dusted the sand off himself.

His conversation with his friend was over, and it was time to get on with his daily routine.

He went and selected a hard stone from a pile of others he had gathered, walked towards a wall of the cave cell, and knelt in front of a small hole.

Though this was part of his everyday routine, it was always a bit frightening.

Ryo took a deep breath and dove into the hole.

The hole was just big enough for him to fit through. At its beginning, he could walk while crouched, but further in, it became so narrow that he had to crawl. The long, branching tunnel ran deep into the rock and earth.

After just a couple of forks in the tunnel, barely any light would reach inside.

Yet even in such pitch-black darkness, Ryo never lost his way.

His skeletal friend had initially started digging this tunnel, and Ryo had taken over the task.

Once he finally reached the deepest part of the tunnel, Ryo set to work striking the sandstone ahead using the hard stone he carried.

From what he could tell, most of the rock making up the walls of the prison was extremely hard. A viburntriark might have been able to break it, but human strength alone could not. Without specialized drilling equipment, it was beyond human capability. However, there were also layers of softer rock, known as sandstone, scattered and woven throughout the harder, denser rock.

Ryo carved and dug through this day after day.

He had no idea how long he had been digging for.

During these digs, he repeatedly encountered hard rock layers. He would try to circumvent them, but would eventually hit hard rock again. He repeated this cycle over and over, continuing to extend the narrow tunnel sideways and upwards.

This is our way out!

Or, so he hoped.

Trying to find a sandstone layer that led to the surface was no easy feat.

This could all be pointless . . .

Every once in a while, an intense anxiety would overwhelm Ryo.

All his digging could be in vain if the tunnel was fully surrounded by hard rock layers. And, the longer the tunnel got, the greater the risk of suffocation. In that dark, narrow tunnel, crawling in that suffocating posture, with nothing but the incessant sound of scraping and digging echoing in his ears, Ryo would feel increasingly helpless. His skeletal friend probably ended up unable to bear these feelings—this fear—either.

But every time such thoughts crossed his mind, Ryo vigorously shook his head.

Ryo was an insect tamer and an adventurer.

He'd survived countless crises. He'd been chased by massive monsters known as Great Spirits while traversing ancient ruins and had survived desert sandstorms under the blazing sun. He nearly had frozen solid with his woodbug, despite being in the midst of summer, after getting hit by a cold blast when exploring a ruin. He'd clashed with hordes of viburntriark controlled by infamous bandits, been ambushed by mercenaries and rogues hired by corrupt merchants, gotten stripped of all goods and saddled with debt by con artists, and even been targeted relentlessly by renowned bounty hunters mistaking him for some high-price figure. He'd overcome it all.

I even found the Aflaj . . . Me.

That's what Ryo kept reminding himself every day.

A year into his search for the Aflaj—a request he received from the king, who had deciphered ancient Shahrazad texts about it—voices of opposition began to arise one after another from his fellow adventurers.

It's nothing but a legend.

. . . they would say.

There's no such thing as the Aflaj.

. . . they would claim.

But Ryo, trusting the King of Shahrazad, had pressed on.

And then, he finally found it: the ancient relic that could control infinite water—the Aflaj.

The Aflaj was exactly as the legends described: a set of three thin, translucent sheets resembling moist compresses. When adhered to the body and concentrating with one's mind, the user could produce water anywhere, enough to create even a canal in the middle of the desert. From his experience as an adventurer, Ryo believed this relic was a type of control device, with its generating device likely buried somewhere deep beneath the continent.