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 an entomidron, 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 stone and sand of the Rocks.

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 the prison.

The intention behind the vastness of the Rocks 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 entomidron, 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 entomidron, 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 Rocks, 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, 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 this prison was extremely hard. An entomidron 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 entomidron, despite being in the midst of summer, after getting hit by a cold blast when exploring a ruin. He'd clashed with hordes of entomidra 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.

It was the legendary ancient relic that supposedly sustained the prosperity of the lost ancient civilization.

Ryo had only touched it briefly, but even that was enough to convince him of its legendary status. And whoever controlled the water, controlled the wealth. Prosperity would be assured, bringing fortune and happiness.

Water was, after all, the source of life and joy.

Imprisoned in this cave, without receiving a single meal, surviving on fallen dates from the ceiling crevice and licking water seeping from the rock face, Ryo's appreciation for the Aflaj's greatness grew. And with each moment, so too did his hatred intensify for those who stole it.

This prison is more cruel than any gallows across this continent.

In any other prison, they at least provided food and water.

But here, there was nothing. The intent was clear. It resounded louder than being told to his face to die. Ryo was expected to perish here—to die from hunger and thirst, in bitter solitude.

What a joke! I'll kick their friggin' asses!

Each time Ryo felt helpless in that dark tunnel, he dispelled his fear with rage.

Ryo had had three close and trusted companions in his adventurer party: Thaler, a former warrior: Dinar, a former priestess: and Euro, a prodigy insect tamer. He had also been close with En, the ruler of the Great Kingdom of Shahrazad.

There wasn't a single day at the Rocks when the faces of those four didn't flash through Ryo's mind.

Looking back, Ryo reflected on his desperate situation. Since the moment he first woke and found himself confined here, he's been struggling to survive.

He'd throw stones to knock down dates and dry them for food storage. There were times he failed too, like when the dates molded. But he had to eat them . . . which resulted in severe diarrhea. He sometimes lured insects with the spoiled dates and ate those as well. Cooking was mostly out of the question though, as even fire was a precious commodity in the prison.

For fuel, the only options available to him were date palm leaves that fell into the cave, clumps of tumbleweeds blown in by the wind from from across the wilderness, and occasional balls of herbivore dung rolled in by dung beetles.

But these were not things he could use regularly.

The stalks of date palm leaves had enough strength they were sometimes used for roofing or flooring, so Ryo had been thinking about making a ladder from them. However, not enough leaves fell in to make a long one, and he also sometimes had to use them as fuel and wasn't able to save up enough. As such, he thought about planting date seeds, growing a plant to use as a ladder, and using that to escape. But, that plan seemed to be failing too, since he wasn't getting the results he had hoped for. After all, water was scarce.

Bats and pigeons sometimes came by, perhaps to wait out sandstorms: once, a young gazelle had fallen in. Ryo leapt on it in desperation.

In that moment, he felt truly grateful to God.

He slaughtered it according to the rites outlined in the holy scriptures, drained the unclean blood, and carved it apart with a stone knife.

He then pondered for two days.

Should I eat it raw? Or should I roast it?

It might have been the hardest decision he had ever had to make in life.

He decided to roast it, but then there was another problem.

How do I start a fire?

He managed to ignite some sparks by hitting the iron door with a rock, but it wasn't enough to start a fire. In the end, his skeleton friend came to the rescue. His friend had a large, treasured sapphire ornament with exquisite glasswork. Ryo was able to use the glasswork to focus the sunlight to ignite a fire.

In the Rocks, roasted meat was far more precious than sapphires.

The roasted meat was incredibly succulent, and Ryo even sucked the marrow from the bones. He used the stone knife to scrape the meat off the pelt and turn it into a floor mat, twisted the tendons into long thread-like cords, and made the small horns into a gift for his bony friend. Nothing was wasted.

However, such fortune, the kind that brings vitality to life, was rare.

It took an enormous amount of effort just to slightly improve his quality of life.

To collect the water seeping from the rock face, Ryo carved multiple grooves into the surface, guiding droplets into a rock basin. His friend had left the task half-done, and, like the tunnel, Ryo had taken this over too. His friend had several brilliant ideas, such as gathering feces and urine, powdered animal bones, and plant skins in one spot, mixing it all with sand, and stirring it occasionally to make compost.

But still, each task took an incredible amount of time.

After all, there were no tools.

Being locked away in this rocky cave, Ryo came to deeply understand the importance of every tool better than ever before.

His days at the Rocks were a series of failures.

He once tried cultivating a field using compost on seeds he'd found in the dung dropped by dung beetles, but the severe dryness of the place prevented anything from growing.

Even the olive seeds that managed to sprout withered before they could grow into trees.

Water. The lack of water was the worst of all problems.

His life in prison was an endless repetition of trials and failures. He tried to tally his days there on the rock walls, but even those records had become unreliable from his third year forward. One could say the number of times Ryo had fallen to setbacks and lost heart was equal to the number of forks and failed paths that branched inside the escape tunnel. Stomachaches and fevers were just minor issues. Once, he was stung by a scorpion while he slept, and his leg swelled so badly he couldn't move. And when his spirit would break, he often abandoned his habit of marking the days on the wall, at least for a while.

Going off his record alone, it indicated at least five or more years had passed.

His gut, however, told him twenty years had already gone by.

He had also become quite skilled at brushing his teeth with sand. He nibbled the ends of small twigs to make brushes and ground sand with a rock to make a tooth-cleaning powder. Initially, he often tore up his gums badly.

However, nowadays, it was his spirit that was more torn apart than his body.

Even when he pretended to die, playing dead after screaming like mad, he never once heard the footsteps of a person approach the prison, not even a guard. When he tried climbing the walls to escape through the crack in the ceiling, he would fall each time. When he attempted to build a ramp from sand, there was never enough. He continued to hit hard layers of rock while digging through the sandstone. And even though he'd been urinating on the iron door's hinges for ages now, the door hadn't budged an inch.

While the iron door stood fast, Ryo's faith on the other hand had rusted and become fragile, shaking on its foundation.

He had even lost track of the calendar for fasting, a duty of the faithful.

Ryo caught glimpses of the sun and moon occasionally, so he had some idea of directions, but the direction he prayed towards might not be the proper qibla—the direction towards the holy capital. The beautiful sound of singing at prayer hours would faintly reach his cell, but Ryo had grown to ignore it with derision. He used to be a devout believer and never failed to pray five times a day, but stuck in this prison, his faith in a god who still hadn't saved him wavered many times.

He felt ashamed of his wavering self.

He blamed and detested those fiends who had turned him into such a shameful version of himself.

Wavering led to shame. Shame led to hatred. And hatred led back to wavering again. He just couldn't reconcile with himself. One day he'd feel deeply thankful to God, and the next, he'd be holding back curses.

Pathetic.

How trivial it all seems . . .

In that pitch-black escape tunnel, where little could be seen, his inner turmoil was the one thing starkly visible.

No matter how much he dug, he could never see ahead. It was monotonous. That, above all, was the hardest part.

After finishing his quota of digging for the day, Ryo dejectedly emerged from the hole and looked up in surprise at the cracked ceiling. Sounds are coming from above—distinct noise Ryo was familiar with.

His voice buoyant, Ryo calls out to his friend and listens intently.

The sound of steam . . . That's the timbre of jet streams, brother!

It was getting closer. He could hear the sound of jets, interspersed with the continuous flapping of wings.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—an entomidron was flying above.

These ancient flying relics were operated by pilots from within spherical cockpits, called "globe decks." The sizes of entomidra varied, but Ryo's partner, Soleoreno, was about ten meters in length. They all were powered by water and versatile in their uses.

They were invaluable assets for tasks ranging from transporting heavy loads, quarrying and processing stone, digging canals, breaking down rocks and large trees to expand farmland, to spraying large amounts of water for agricultural purposes. Collecting artifacts and relics from dangerous ruins, or fighting off bandit raids, was naturally out of the question if one couldn't pilot an entomidron.

Those who managed to pilot them were aptly dubbed "insect tamers," and Ryo had once made his name as one with his skills.

Listen, brother! Listen close. That's the sound of wings. Can you tell? There's an entomidron flyin' out there. That there, that's the sound of beetle wings. It's making a turn, coming near us. Sounds like it's gonna land in the prison somewhere. Haha, those wings are too noisy. The bug is decent, but the pilot is an amateur. Listen, brother, there! Did you hear that? It just landed! Clumsy legwork, clumsy wingwork . . . It got blown by the wind.

From the sounds alone, Ryo could vividly picture the flying entomidron.

Since the very first time he gripped a control stick, Ryo became smitten by these wooden machina. The sensation of jumping, tumbling, and soaring while steam jets spurted from the vents and exhausts was exhilarating. Just thinking about it filled him with excitement. Ryo listened closely and laughed heartily.

Hahaha, is that a guard operating the entomidron, I wonder? He's a terrible pilot. He obviously doesn’t understand his entomidron at all. He's not resonating with its spirit. Haha, hah . . . ha . . .

His laughter grew dry. Unable to bear it, Ryo slouched with a downturned gaze.

He felt hollow. That inept pilot was out there riding a entomidron. Ryo could not.

. . . If that was me, I'd fly it with much cleaner wing sounds, land with much smoother legwork . . . I could understand it. Feel it. I could commune with the entomidron's spirit . . .

Muttering to himself, Ryo suddenly felt a heat in his eyes.

No. He took in a sharp breath, shaking his head from side to side.

Sunset was approaching.

No. I can't afford to be weak.

His skeleton friend had taught him what happened to weaklings in this prison. Ryo once discovered something like a will, etched into the rock face by his friend. The man had been a political captive, imprisoned here over a century ago, who lost the will to live and met his end in this cave.

He had hailed from a noble lineage and was ultimately broken by the hardships of the Rocks.

But Ryo was different. He came from a tribe without a country, his sister being his only relative, and he had no knowledge of his lineage. He rose to prominence as an adventurer solely through his skills as an insect tamer.

I won't be broken! . . . Well, maybe I will be . . . But I'll bounce right back!

Ryo gave his cheeks a few slaps to reinvigorate himself.

Once the escape tunnel broke the surface, he planned to steal a entomidron and flee.

When that time came, all his pent-up frustration would be dispelled. He'd show Thaler, Dinar, Euro—and above all, King En—what he was capable of. He'd find his beloved Soleoreno and reclaim that legendary water-producing relic, the Aflaj.

That, right now, was his sole purpose for living.

And yet . . . Occasionally, a terrifying thought crossed his mind.

Am I even really, truly . . . me?

Maybe it was all his delusion. Was he perhaps a madman all along, and everything merely a figment of his imagination? These thoughts sometimes visited him during the ebony darkness of night.

Each time this happened, at dawn, he would start his day by drawing in the sand.

He would draw Soleoreno, the portraits of his adventuring ex-partners, rare ancient relics and goods he’d discovered, and images of fearsome Great Spirits he'd faced. He'd draw the formidable bandits and entomidra of fellow adventurers he'd encountered. And, he'd draw the Aflaj, a relic comprised of a thin, adhesive, patch-like trio of fragments. Ryo would draw each with as much detail as he could.

He would draw, erase, and then draw some more.

And he would ponder to himself:

Is this all delusion? No, it's reality. But maybe . . . Maybe it's a strangely realistic delusion. If that’s the case, then what are these feelings of outrage and hatred boiling inside me?

No. This isn't a dream or an illusion.

This thirst, this hunger, this indignation . . . They are real.

Ryo had survived freezing nights and scorching days, enduring each and every one.

Despite overcoming so many hardships, there were still moments when he suddenly lost confidence.

After all, everything Ryo believed about the outside world was uncertain from in here.

His sense of time had grown vague since being imprisoned in the Rocks. He couldn't tell if his memories were from yesterday or a year ago. Maybe they were from five or ten years ago. Maybe they were actually from twenty years ago, or even farther than that!

It was all one blur.

Everything was blurred and vague. Perhaps it was because he often revisited these memories in his nightmares?

Still, despite his muddled sense of time, he could feel the changing of seasons on his skin.

Even within this cave, he could see the passage of time.

Ryo squinted up at the crack in the ceiling.

He guessed it must be early Sabtimbar, the ninth month of the Shahrazad calendar.

Against the striking blue sky, the fruits of the date palms above were ripening.

Large clusters of dates were already maturing. While they would naturally fall when fully ripe, Ryo always threw stones to knock them down. Palm dates were an excellent food he could preserve by harvesting and drying them this way. If he didn't harvest them before the birds and mice did, Ryo's share would diminish.

They weren't just his staple food—they were his lifeline.

But, in this prison, good news and bad news tended to arrive hand-in-hand.

Crap. No stones left to throw . . .

Ryo was in trouble.

He had already exhausted all the suitable stones and bones in the cave for throwing. There was a large obsidian ornament among a friend's jewels, but Ryo had already broken it down into a small knife. There were still some hard rocks for digging through sandstone, but obviously he couldn't risk losing those.

He scoured the area for something—anything—good for throwing and knocking down the dates.

Truth be told, Ryo had eyed something.

But . . . it was somewhat difficult to broach the subject.

Ryo sat down next to his bony companion and began talking, choosing his words carefully.

So, uh . . . Hey, brother. I know I've been a nuisance time and again, and I'm real sorry about that . . . But, um, if we don't knock down those palm fruits and dry 'em, we won't be able to preserve any food. But you see, I've run out of things to throw. So, I've got a favor to ask . . .

Ryo hesitated a moment, but soon found his resolve, and looked his friend in the eye sockets.

Would you mind lending me a hand? Err . . . I mean, I want to borrow one to throw at the dates.

As far as Ryo could tell, his friend seemed quite willing to lend a hand.

Or more accurately, his left upper arm.

Ryo was fully convinced. Indeed, having a friend who was only bones had its advantages. Never before in his life had he met someone who would lend him an arm like this.

Immediately, Ryo took aim and threw the bone. It hit the cluster of fruits, and dates rained down, scattering about. But his friend's humerus failed to return.

Ryo turned pale and clutched his head.

Oh shit . . .

Now he'd done it.

To prevent this from happening, Ryo had prepared a long rope intricately tied together from a mixture of gazelle tendon, his friend's hair, and hair he had cut from himself.

He had planned to tie the rope to the bone before throwing it, but he had carelessly forgotten.

Ryo sat down next to his friend again.

He thought for a while about how to address this, having ruined the goodwill his friend had shown. He stood and sat down again facing his friend. This time, he spoke with even more remorse.

I’m so sorry, brother. Would you mind giving me another hand?

Reluctantly, but surely, his friend lent Ryo his right upper arm.

Ryo figured his friend was probably right-handed.

There was no room for failure this time.

Ryo meticulously tied the hair-and-tendon rope around the bone and took aim, pointing his finger for confirmation.

Here we go!

This time, everything went smoothly: Ryo's throw, the retrieval of his friend's right humerus via the rope, and the harvest of dates. His accuracy with the bone throw was near perfection, and the ground was now carpeted with fruit. Ryo jumped for joy, gathering the dates with both arms and showing them to his friend.

Look, brother, look! It's a bounty! Haha!

Ryo's face blossomed wide with an innocent smile, but it soon clouded over.

His friend's expression looked tense. Or, so Ryo thought.

He removed the rope from the arm bone and nodded as he returned it to his friend.

Yeah, I’d have that look too. Sorry about your left arm. But think about it this way: your left arm is now one step ahead of us, don't you think? Or rather, one arm ahead? Hehe.

His friend laughed. Or, so it seemed to Ryo.

Ryo crossed his arms, marveling. Maybe the human heart grew more accepting after death? He thought about that. After all, Ryo was still alive, and he knew how intolerant his own heart was.

Not a single day went by during Ryo's daily life in prison without the faces of those he hated crossing his mind.

Thaler, Dinar, Euro . . . Those bastards, I'll beat 'em to a pulp!

They all had been Ryo's most trusted companions within his adventurer's party: the ex-warrior, Thaler: the former priestess, Dinar: and the pilot prodigy, Euro. But above them all was—

En . . . King En! En ibn Momme al-Shahrazad!

The supreme ruler of the Great Kingdom of Shahrazad—King En. He was a man adept at winning people's hearts.

And there was no way Ryo could curse him enough.

Those traitors! They stole the Aflaj—a treasure I acquired through incredible hardship! I swear, once I crawl outta this cave, I'll unleash all my resentment upon them!

Damn En most of all! I'll end him with my own two hands!

En had been the sponsor of the Aflaj expedition, and the root cause of all this trouble. He was a charismatic king, said to be chosen by spirits, and was renowned for his unparalleled ability to decipher ancient tomes, contributing to the discoveries of numerous ancient ruins.

And it was because Ryo fell for his smooth-talking that he was now stuck here in the Rocks.

Dammit, En. What about your promise to "bring abundant water to all living things on this drying continent," huh? Tch! At the end of the day, you were just like all the others, only craving power . . .

Ryo had been knocked unconscious while traveling with Thaler, Dinar, and Euro on their return journey to King En while transporting the Aflaj. They had finally managed to retrieve it from a special ancient ruin—a location so perilous that only the most skilled insect tamers ever returned alive. That was why he only took his closest companions. But by the time Ryo regained consciousness, he was already trapped in this mysterious cave prison.

They left him here, in this prison where not even food or water was provided. They might as well have just told Ryo to die. He gritted his teeth every time he thought about those backstabbers and their cold-hearted intent to kill him.

Like hell I'll die here!

He would not die they way they wanted him to. He would not, no matter what.

I won't be satisfied till I get my revenge.

He was sure Thaler, Dinar, and Euro were the perpetrators who knocked him out and absconded with the Aflaj. But the mastermind behind the betrayal had to be En. If he wasn't behind the scheme, surely he would have come to rescue Ryo by now.

As king, En had the power to do that at least.

I trusted him . . . I thought En was different from those other royals and politicians . . .

King En had been fooling him all along.

He was a king of great virtue and immensely popular among the people. As such, Ryo had failed to see his hidden face.

After all, thought Ryo, if King En had been using the Aflaj as he promised he would all this time, the wind blowing into this damn cave wouldn’t be so dry. Ryo had once held the Aflaj in his hands and tested it. The ancient relic—rumored to be capable of providing infinite water—was indeed that powerful.

In the end, En was just another man corrupt with power.

He had used Ryo under the guise of lofty ideals, completely exploiting him.

He probably was providing water only to his own lands and to those who submitted to him, while leaving the rest of the continent to dry up. Everything relied on water. Not just people or nature, but also agriculture and most useful ancient relics. Whosoever held the Aflaj, something capable of controlling an infinite water supply, would hold complete power over the kingdom.

That's the reason he left me here to die!

Ryo would never have let King En use the Aflaj for his own self-interest had he known. Without a doubt, he would have beaten En and reclaimed the Aflaj. That's what Ryo would have done. Treasures should only belong to those who truly appreciate their value—that was Ryo's creed as an adventurer. But King En had made the preemptive move, locking him in this prison, to prevent that.

Looking back, every word from King En now seemed awfully shallow and cold.

It was some time after Thaler had introduced them that En said to Ryo:

I wish to bring abundant water to all that live on this continent.

Of course, Ryo didn't believe him at first. According to En, who supposedly deciphered the ancient tomes handed down through the royal family, the Aflaj could bring catastrophic disasters to the continent if not handled by someone who truly understood its value. Ryo did not believe En was the right person to wield the Aflaj. Being entrusted with the search for the Aflaj would indeed be an honor for any adventurer, but Ryo did not want to betray his own beliefs.

Ryo flatly refused the request to search for the Aflaj, openly stating his reasons each time.

Yet, En never gave up, persistently asking Ryo for his service.

Why me? There are plenty of other adventurers out there, so why ask me?

Because you are a man who refuses me based on your ideals.

Ryo was taken aback by En’s words.

Ryo, whenever I have approached other adventurers with this request, each one has agreed without hesitation. Only you see the dangers of the Aflaj and have expressed your doubt, without fear, whether even I am worthy to wield it. I have no intention of asking anyone else.

At these words, Ryo's determination wavered.

He felt that, just maybe, the person worthy of handling the Aflaj was indeed right before his eyes. He felt the need to reassess his judgment. But he also apologized because he would continue to watch En with suspicion.

I apologize . . . However, I will continue to have my doubts.

That’s fine, Ryo. Doubting is a natural function of the mind. The opposite of belief isn’t doubt: it’s disbelief. Doubt arises because you want to believe. Doubting is always integral to believing. Believing something doesn't mean you cease all doubt. Belief is something much braver, intellectual, and troublesome.

En showed a brisk smile, then his eyes sparkled with an innocent allure.

You didn’t believe in me at all before, did you, Ryo? But now, you are doubting me. You’ve moved from "disbelief" to "doubt." That’s a significant step forward. I find that incredibly pleasing.

All those words and En's satisfied gestures . . . They had all been just an act.

Whether sharing coffee by the campfire, assessing ancient relics, going over entomidron controls, playing board games, or enjoying hookah together, En would always share his thoughts and ideals. But it was all a deceit.

En had tricked Ryo into believing that he alone truly understood the king.

The resonance of hearts Ryo had felt was a simply an illusion.

That carefree smile, his refreshing candor, his unadorned attire, the aroma of frankincense infused in his clothes, and his occasionally mischievous, boyish grin . . .

All were just to mask his true nature.

It all had been a lie.

I was completely taken in, felt a connection, and look where that got me.

In the end, En, too, just wanted power.

It was bitter. Frustrating. Ryo felt hatred coursing through him. He hated—both how he was naive, and how King En had manipulated him.

Just thinking about it made his blood boil.

He needed to lie down. When Ryo felt incredibly furious, he would close his eyes. The harsh sunlight pouring through the wide crack in the ceiling seemed to make everything in his sight twice as annoying, from the date palms swaying conspicuously overhead to the blue open sky he so resented. So, he would lie down in the cavern shade, letting the cool touch of the stone calm his breathing, which eventually would lull him to sleep. When his heart was tangled in anger, dozing off seemed the best solution.

However, this time, when he awoke, he saw . . . birds. He counted one, three, five . . .

Over twenty. More than twenty birds had landed in the cell. They aren't pigeons. Maybe they're migratory birds?

And . . . they were pecking at the dates Ryo had been carefully drying.

All feelings of drowsiness were suddenly blown away as Ryo bolted upright.

Hey! Those're mine! They're mine, dammit! Shoo! Get away, you pests!

With a fierce look, Ryo ran about shouting and waving his hands to drive the birds away. But the birds only flew up to regroup charmingly along the ceiling crack, looking down on Ryo with a devilish nature, clearly targeting the drying dates. They had already taken a heafty portion of his hard-earned treat.

What a bunch of vermin . . . They can fly anywhere they want, and yet . . .

He threw sand and gravel indiscriminately up towards the gaping fissure.

There’s plenty up there, isn't there?! Why the hell are you taking mine!

In a fit of frustration, Ryo threw everything that touched his hand. In the heat of the moment, he even hurled his friend's arm bone, only to immediately feel awash with regret.

Oh, shit . . .

He felt the blood drain from his face.

He hadn't tied the rope to it.

How could he face his friend after losing not just his left arm, but now the right arm too?

No, wait. Wait! Please, pretend that didn't happen!

Ryo prayed, but it was too late. His friend's right arm bone had already flown out through the ceiling crack. But maybe Ryo's prayers had been heard after all! The arm bone fell back down at his feet with a soft thud . . . and even two of the birds came tumbling down with it!

The bone had apparently hit them.

Frightened, the remaining birds had also flown away somewhere.

Was this a blessing in disguise, or some reversal of disaster? Ryo wasn't sure. Only God knew what brought fortune or misfortune.

. . .

Ryo stood blinking for a moment, dumbfounded, before deeply giving thanks to the heavens. It wasn't commendable for a believer to be fickle, losing his faith when times were bad and deepening it when they were good again. Ryo had been taught this in his youth, but that mattered little to him now.

At any rate, he had birds. It had been a long while since he'd enjoyed bird meat.

It would be a feast.

I'll roast 'em. I'll use a bit of fuel, roast them over the fire, and eat 'em.

Thus far, Ryo had eaten scorpions, snakes, and spiders out of sheer desperation. Anything that could be eaten raw without causing stomach upset, he ate as such: for things that needed cooking to avoid sickness, he cooked. Fire was precious. Fuel was limited. He could use the sun's rays focused through his friend's glass jewelry to cook without fuel, but grilling over an open flame was best.

Ryo carefully piled some fuel over ash he'd saved. Ash, too, was a valuable asset. It enriched the soil and made kindling easier. He started the fire and roasted the birds.

The smell of meat cooking always retaught Ryo what happiness was.

The bird meat, plucked and grilled, was fragrant and exquisite.

That night, he slept comfortably.

The next day, he could still taste the lingering flavor of the roasted meat in his mouth and couldn't help but smile.

But just few days later, he awoke only to hold his head in despair again. Despite not having eaten a single one yet, some of the dates he had laid out to dry were gone.

No, not again . . . And so many, in just one night . . .

The gnaw marks, leftover droppings, and footprints gave it away—mice.

He'd had issues with mice and birds targeting his drying dates before, but the loss had never been this significant. Ryo covered the dates with sand, cutting the drying process short.

Just below Ryo's sleeping area was where he stored his preserved rations.

But, a significant amount of his food supply had diminished.

As much as the situation infuriated him, Ryo also found it bizarre and perplexing.

Why have the mice suddenly . . .

Ryo paused a moment.

I've never had dates left out to dry eaten like this overnight before. Did a huge number of mice show up or something? If so, where did they come from, and where did they disapper to?

Usually, mice only came through the crack in the ceiling.

Perhaps because of the overhanging rocks, not many mice entered the prison. Most that did got trapped and ended up being Ryo’s dinner.

Mice were clever. Like seasoned adventurers, they were cautious and learned quickly, avoiding places they knew they couldn't escape from. That had always been the case until now.

And the damage to the food supply had never been this significant before.

. . . But, where? Where in the world did they come from?

Ryo scrutinized the ground, noticing faint traces of numerous little footprints, all leading near his skeletal friend—and to the escape tunnel Ryo had been digging.

Why do they lead to the tunnel?

. . . ! Wait, could it be . . . ?

A realization came over Ryo, sending shivers from deep within his core.

It was excitement akin to the moment he found the Aflaj.

Is the tunnel . . . Is it connected to a mice burrow?!

Ryo turned and asked his skeletal friend, half in doubt.

His friend's skull nodded in agreement. Or, so it seemed.

If the escape route is connected to a nest, then that means . . .

Then the tunnel has almost reached the outside! We're close!

Ryo suppressed his excitement for a moment. It was, still, just a possibility.

He dove into the hole, proceeding cautiously to its furthest point.

In the darkness of the tunnel, he held his breath and sharpened his senses of touch, hearing, and smell.

He could faintly sense the flow of air and a beastly odor. Indeed, through the mouse burrow, he could detect the air outside. He was almost there. The tunnel was just about to reach the surface!

Years of hardship were finally about to bear fruit.

It was undoubtedly a sign of reward.

Oh . . . Oh, lord! Thank you!

Ryo prayed, offering his sincere gratitude.

It was the most earnest prayer he had given during all his years in the prison.

When was the last time he wept tears of joy?

At last, he would escape. He was closer to freedom than ever before. There could be no slip-ups now. He had to be careful in every aspect.

He remained alert and decided to concentrate on refining his escape plan more concretely.

Emerging from the tunnel, Ryo crossed his arms and sat facing his skeleton comrade.

It's all about the details. The devil's in the details, brother. I know. Overlooking even the smallest thing could ruin it all. I'll be careful, really. Just one more step and our escape plan will be complete.

Ryo needed to conserve food until the escape route was secured. As soon as it was ready, he planned to break out of here, seize an entomidron, and flee the prison. He had heard the sound of entomidra landing around the cave numerous times. Once aboard one, victory would be assured: Ryo was confident he could make a clean getaway. As long as he had food, he’d manage. As for water, there would be some stored in his stolen entomidron's abdominal water sac—its fuel source.

Food . . . I need food. I gotta conserve as much as possible beforehand . . .

Even after breaking through the surface, he wouldn't be able to run away immediately.

He would have to carefully observe the surroundings and wait for an entomidron to land nearby. Blending into the twilight would be his best strategy. First, he had to understand where he was and just how much security he'd be facing. He also had a promise to keep—he needed to escape with his friend. He'd need to weave some date palm leaves together in order to carry his skeletal cellmate.

He still had a small bit of water left.

Food was the real problem. His store of dates had been seriously compromised thanks to the birds and mice.

Ryo had managed to catch a couple of mice using a trap he fashioned from a heavy stone and branch, but it seemed the mice had learned their lesson, as no more fell for it after those two. But two were not enough.

He needed more.

Ryo made a plan: use the dead mice to set a trap to catch larger prey. That, or harvest and consume the maggots that spawned in their corpses. It was one or the other.

But nothing significant was caught.

Nothing but fresh maggots, which were thriving and devouring the mice.

Escape was so close. Ryo had to make things work, no matter what it took. He had a long way ahead of him until he could go into hiding somewhere far away. He wanted to avoid stealing food from village fields at all costs as well: leaving footprints or other traces behind was risky. Therefore, he needed to prepare as many rations and as much fuel as possible. At the moment, there was only a bit of dung beetle feces and palm leaf stalks left.

Ryo took a deep breath as he made up his mind.

. . . I'll eat them . . . I have to . . .

He had been keeping the mouse corpses from drying out by using some of the precious water he collected from the rock face and sprinkling it over them. Thanks to the stench of death exuded, he was able to harvest a plentiful amount of maggots.

It was the same principle as spreading manure on a field to grow a bountiful harvest.

The freshness of food is vital.

Despite their dizzyingly revolting appearance, maggots could undoubtedly be a valuable source of nutrients. Although they fed on rotten flesh, their bodies themselves were not decayed. Just like with fields fertilized with organic waste—such as rotten vegetables and feces—the harvested crops themselves were not treated the same as the waste that fed them.

All right . . . It's all right . . . It's fine. I'm starving right now. I have to eat something.

Ryo repeated this to himself, mentally preparing for the meal.

Ryo was an insect tamer and an adventurer. Adventurers, unbound by common sense, were good at making discoveries. During his time in the Rocks, he discovered many things. One discovery was: hunger was the best seasoning. Ryo collected the maggots, rinsed them with water, closed his eyes, and swallowed them all in one bite.

And, once again, he discovered something new.

Even with the best seasoning, something disgusting was still disgusting. Their popping texture, creaminess, and slight bitterness sent a chill through his body, spurring Ryo on.

Escape was so close.

He would only have one shot at it. He had to do anything he could to increase the possibility of success of his escape.

And so, Ryo spent days avoiding hard rock, following mouse burrows, and digging through sandstone. He did all his work at night to ensure that the hole, if it ever breached the surface, would not be noticed. Perhaps numbed by ever-brightening hopes, he strangely never felt tired. Perhaps it was thanks to all the hard days spent in prison, but his stomach never suffered at all either. He would sleep during the day, and as soon as he woke at night, his energy would surge.

The more he dug, the softer the sandstone began to feel.

It's weathering. The sandstone is getting more brittle and breaking down easier. That's a good sign—I'm getting closer to the outside.

It was almost morning: he had finally managed to get just beneath the surface. Tomorrow, he would finally be able to breathe in the fresh air outside to his heart's content.

He could tell from the sound of wind just beyond the mouse burrows.

The sandstone was also so soft he could dig it by hand.

With a smile spreading across his face, Ryo crawled out from the tunnel and back into the cave.

It was time to eat. It had been several days, so he was craving something decent. Today, he would have some preserved dates. Just as Ryo was thinking about this, while brushing the sand off his knees to stand up, his head began to spin.

It felt strange, different from mere dizziness.

Wha . . . What's—

Just then, before Ryo could finish that thought, the ground started to shake violently as if it were about to split open. He fell to the ground, unable to even stand. The rocks above him clattered. A stone, knocked loose, came down, striking Ryo in the back.

The shaking suddenly stopped as Ryo lay writhing in pain.

Only a trickle of sand and dust continued to sprinkle down.

Looks like it died down . . . Whew, are you okay, brother?

His skeletal friend seemed mostly intact, though the shaking had slightly distorted his body and dropped his skull to the ground. Ryo tidied him up and returned his friend back to normal.

For a second, Ryo felt relieved, but suddenly a terrifying shiver ran down his spine.

Something wasn't right.

He sensed a terrible feeling coming from the escape tunnel.

Ryo stood with his eyes glued to the hole.

Haha . . . N-no . . . No way . . .

He peered into the tunnel—their escape route.

He peered in and was immediately horrified. The branching path—that should have been visible—was nowhere to be seen.

. . . No . . . No, it can't be . . . I-it . . . Hey, now. Haha . . . This, this is just . . .

He dove into the hole and tapped around just to make sure, trying to clear the lump in his throat and muttering indistinctly.

He stared fixated, hoping he was mistaken.

The hole he had worked so hard to dig . . .

The hole he kept digging, for years and years, while repeatedly thwarted by hard rock and stone . . .

It was now . . . closed. Blocked. Completely sealed off by solid rock.

Ryo no longer felt the dull pain in his back.

No . . . No, it can't be! No, no, no, no, no!

He pounded on the rock. He struck it and bashed it until his skin peeled, but the rock blocking the path didn't budge an inch.

The path was cut off.

All that preparation, all that long work, gone in an instant.

Without mercy. Without reason. Abruptly. Indiscriminately. Sloppily.

The path was severed.

There was nothing he could do.

Writing and tearing at his hair, he burst out of the former tunnel back into the cave.

It's too much! Why this?! How could this . . . It’s too cruel . . . !

Even swears and curses failed form on his lips.

Choking, the words merely seeped from Ryo's lips. Unable to endure it, he glared up at the crack in the stone ceiling. His gaze pierced the vivid blue sky with hostility. Looking up into the sky, far above into the heavens, Ryo glared bloodshot eyes at the sole deity believed to have created this world. The sun set, night fell, stars twinkled, and the moon passed, but still, he kept glaring even as the next morning came.

But nothing changed.

No one else cared—it affected no one else. And no matter what Ryo did or thought or felt, the escape tunnel remained blocked. And the sky remained infuriatingly blue. Moreover, Ryo realized:

The water supply he collected in the rock basin had gone dry.

. . . The w-water is . . . gone?

Not even a single drop seeped from the rock's face anymore.

Perhaps it was due to the earthquake. Perhaps Ryo's defiant attitude had offended that one and only deity above.

Ryo's mind went blank as he was forced to face a realization.

It's over . . .

Suddenly drained of strength, Ryo lay down on his side.

He could last a week without food, but not more than three days without water. Just three days. There is no way to fix that blocked hole in just three days.

In other words . . . Death—that was all that awaited him.

He was being told that he should not be alive.

By God. By the sole deity he and most people on the continent believed in:

"Die here in this prison cave."

That had to be it. Ryo felt that had to be the case.

No strength came to him. His throat was parched. His stomach was empty. And yet, he felt no pain or suffering. He felt no fatigue. There wasn't even a hint of discomfort. Somehow, his body felt distant. Detached. He wasn't even sure how to move his fingers or feet, or how to turn his neck or hips.

At this rate, I might soon forget how to even breathe. Too drained to even feel fear, Ryo continued to lie on the ground.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Surely . . . It was a lie . . . It was all a lie . . .

Being touted as the continent's greatest adventurer, being an insect tamer, having had a collection of rare ancient relics, leading an adventure group—it had all been an illusion.

Nowhere was there proof.

No one could prove who he really was.

Even his skeleton companion, who had been by his side for years, had only first met him here at the Rocks.

His hatred for King En, his resentment towards Thaler, Dinar, and Euro, and those days he spent piloting an entomidron as an adventurer—it all must have been a figment of his imagination.

I never met King En.

Or Thaler, or Dinar, or Euro. I never met any of them. I never rode an entomidron or collected ancient relics from ruins, nor did I lead an adventurer's party. I never rose to prominence through my insect tamer skills, despite coming from a countryless tribe.

Even the name "Ryo" seemed suspicious.

Was that ever really my name? Or was it someone else's?

Maybe I just swapped someone else's story for mine, blurring the lines between fairy tales and adventure stories I'd heard, eventually losing my distinction between fantasy and reality.

That must be it.

That would make sense . . .

Over the many long years locked away in this prison, he must have created fictional tales to protect his sanity. If not, there was no explaining why the universe seems to torment him so, or why a god wouldn't offer salvation even now.

Ryo must have been great villain, deserving of such fate. Even if the world ended, the dead rose, and life began anew, he probably wouldn't be welcomed in Paradise.

I see . . . So that's it . . . It was all just make-believe . . .

Ryo's mind was clear.

Completely blank.