The Veiled Man
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Martial Arts Vs Magic - Chapter 123
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 19:10:57 +0000 UTCChapter 123: Echoes in the Wastes
The sun clawed at my skin like a spiteful lover, determined to leave marks.
Four days into our journey across the Scalding Plains, and the landscape had become a maddening repetition of endless dunes stretching toward a horizon that never seemed to draw closer. Our water skins grew lighter with each passing hour, reminding me of time's relentless march.
"We should reach the Lightning Canyons by tomorrow afternoon," Lailah said, her voice carrying across the stillness. She stood atop a dune, silver eyes narrowed against the sun's glare, desert-wrapped silhouette wavering in the heat.
"If we survive that long," I muttered, more to myself than to her.
“Hmm? We'll be fine, you worry too much,” she said.
I loved her enthusiasm, but things could get dangerous if it kept going like this. My body, this temple of hardened flesh and bone that had weathered gods and demons alike, felt the strain. Not from the desert's harshness; the Heavenly Demon Body could endure far worse. No, it was the absence that weakened me.
The hollow echo where my power should be. If I were at my peak, such little things wouldn't have worried me.
“Should we rest here?” She asked, staring at the sweat trailing down my cheek. “I'm a little tired too.”
"You don't have to lie for my sake, but sure," I agreed, and a few minutes later we found a small outcropping of rocks that offered sparse shade. "I'll keep watch."
“Will you? Thank you,” she said with a yawn, taking off the Arabian face veil that she’d been wearing since the start of this journey. Even born in the desert, she could still get tied.
Her silver eyes lingered on me with that blend of curiosity and concern I'd grown accustomed to. She smiled and closed them.
Within minutes, exhaustion truly claimed her, and soft, even breathing replaced her usual banter. I watched her sleeping face for a bit, wondering where the future was leading her. A commoner’s daughter, now getting herself tangled with a global criminal like myself…
I let out a short laugh.
“Anyway,” I whispered to myself, “Should I try it out one more time?”
I closed my eyes, steadying my breath like I'd done countless times before. It wasn't to cultivate this time, however.
The familiar rhythm of Qi circulation beckoned like a half-remembered song. Slowly, I pushed it outwards.
Nevaramis, I thought, directing what little energy I could muster outward, trying to pierce the veil between us. Administrator? Can you hear me? If yes, I’d love me some fast teleportation.
Just as the mental message left me in a siege of Qi, pain erupted along pathways never meant to be damaged. Acid burned through channels where power once flowed like water. It was frustrating.
As blood filled my mouth, I tasted copper and salt, the bitter fruit of failure.
I'd tried it before in the week I spent in Rafin’s house. It hadn't worked then. I hoped the open expanse of the desert would offer a better connection, but…
Nothing. No echo returned. No whisper of recognition from the world I'd left behind.
I spat crimson onto the sand, watching it disappear into the thirsty earth. How fitting.
A lot of questions haunted me whenever I had the time to think. Had Nebula survived her "48 hours" quest? Had she escaped with Munera only to face worse dangers? And what of Lilian, my little wolf, left to navigate a world suddenly turned against her master? And Solara, did she manage to get help in time? Or…
What's the point in worrying? It was you who damned everyone when you unleashed that technique in Merasca, a voice that sounded suspiciously like my own accused. Now you cower in the desert while they face the consequences.
The pendant against my chest pulsed with unexpected coolness, a beacon of comfort in my spiral of self-recrimination. Before I could react, light erupted from it—not the blinding flash of full manifestation, but a gentler coalescence.
Vyrn materialized before me, his spectral form starkly contrasting the harsh desert reality. The ghostly owl's feathers ruffled as he settled on a nearby rock, regarding me with eyes too ancient for his playful demeanor.
"Troot-troot!" Vyrn hooted, wings flapping as he swooped closer, brushing his ethereal cheek against mine. He chirped a few more times, and I got the impression that he was saying—You look terrible! Been a while since you let me out.
I couldn't help but smile. "Been busy trying not to die. And sorry, I couldn’t let you out before because I wasn't sure about our new friend. Wasn't certain if her secrets and spirits were the dangerous kind."
He made a sound and tilted his head, as if asking what I thought of her now.
"Now I'm curious," I said, watching his spectral head swivel toward Lailah's sleeping form. "She has interesting powers and... companions."
A yawn interrupted our conversation. Vyrn might have flown a little too close, because Lailah yawned, rubbing her eyes. A moment later, she blinked before her eyes went wide like dinner plates.
“W-what?”
“Um, hey.”
"Alexander!" She gasped, sitting up and hands clutched to her chest. "What in the blazing sands is that? A spirit? A ghost owl!”
Vyrn preened, enjoying her reaction for some reason, as he flew back to me. "His name is Vyrn," I explained, clearing my throat. "He's a cutie, I bound him to me a few months ago. He's always had my back ever since.”
"Troot-troot," Vyrn added cryptically.
“Uh, he just insulted you,” Lailah translated, somehow understanding the spirit.
“What? No way, he would never,” I lied. I couldn’t exactly understand what he meant at times, but our connection at least helped me absorb it somewhat. Vyrn wasn't pleased with my antics.
Lailah approached cautiously, wonder replacing shock. "Is this what dragon companions look like? I knew it!" She reached out, then hesitated. "May I...?"
"You can try," I said, "but your hand will pass right through him."
She ignored my warning, fingers extended toward Vyrn's spectral form. To my surprise, when she touched him, ripples of faint luminescence spread from the contact point. Not quite solid, but not entirely insubstantial either.
"He's... cool," she whispered, eyes wide with delight. "Like touching the night breeze."
Vyrn, however, had lost interest in Lailah's petting. His head tilted sharply, focusing on a point in the empty air beside her. His wings spread slightly, and he let out a soft, questioning hoot.
"What is it, Vyrn?" I asked, straining my senses. Without my Demonic Sphere at full power, subtle spiritual presences remained beyond my perception. "Another desert spirit?"
Lailah tensed, her hand dropping away from Vyrn.
A flicker of something—understanding or nervousness—crossed her face as she shifted slightly, almost protectively, toward the empty space.
"Azahira," she whispered, so faintly I barely caught it. Her fingers made a small, beckoning gesture toward the nothing Vyrn was staring at.
Vyrn's posture changed, his head bowing slightly, more curious than challenging. Another soft hoot escaped him, gentler this time.
Lailah visibly relaxed, a shy smile touching her lips. "Your spirit is so civilized," she said, not quite meeting my eyes. "Totally different than mine."
"You're finally ready to admit your spirit collections?" I raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at my lips.
"..." Her cheeks darkened beneath her bronze skin.
"What's the matter?" I leaned closer, dropping my voice to a teasing whisper. "You seemed bolder back on the farm."
"That was—" She huffed, flustered. "You're only gaining bravery with your words now that my father isn't around to hear them."
I shrugged, enjoying her discomfort perhaps more than I should. "It's basic courtesy not to hit on a man's daughter in front of him."
Her eyes narrowed. "So you admit you are hitting on me?"
"I'm simply stating facts," I replied innocently, then gestured toward Vyrn, who continued his silent communion with the unseen. "It seems Vyrn has made a new acquaintance. Your desert spirits are usually this invisible?"
Grateful for the change of subject, Lailah nodded. "Some prefer to remain unseen by most. She... is just shy. And surprised. It's not every day a great spirit owl visits these sands." Her gaze returned to me, filled with renewed wonder. "You truly are full of secrets, Alexander 'not-a-dragon'."
"As are you, Lailah 'not-a-witch'."
"So, this Vyrn..." She circled the spectral owl cautiously. "How is spirit bound to you? I heard usually only Elves can tame spirits.”
“Well, are you an elf?”
“I… I'm a special case.”
“So am I,” I lied. When she frowned in offence, I let out a laugh and touched the Jade Pendant at my neck. "I'm joking. He was given a gift by an elf friend of mine. He has a good sense for things."
"Now you suddenly remember a lot of things,” she said, which I ignored. “Fine. What's this good sense you speak of?" Her silver eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"Well, usually I could have detected a lot of things on my own, but since I can't, he warns me about stuff," I said, straightening suddenly as Vyrn's head swiveled sharply toward the dunes behind us. "Such as right now."
The sand began to tremble, subtle at first, then with increasing violence.
Grains cascaded down the dune faces as something large displaced the earth beneath.
A massive, segmented head burst from the sand—a creature resembling a scorpion crossed with a sandworm, its carapace the color of bleached bone. Six glittering eyes fixed on us as its pincers clicked hungrily.
"Sand Ghoul," Lailah breathed, backing away. "Level 15 at least."
[Sand Ghoul, Level 18]
“It’s Level 18,” I sighed, eyeing the creature with more irritation than fear. "Lailah, isn't it embarrassing to be Level 7 at your age?”
“Huh? Um, I’m a farmer’s daughter…”
“Excuses. I must raise you to at least Third Ascension before we reach the oasis, or else I can see you being taken hostage. Alright, get ready." I pointed dramatically at the monster. "Lailah, I choose you! Use Wind Blade!"
"W-what?!" She stared at me in disbelief; the reference was lost on her.
"Don’t give me that look. This is perfect practice for you," I insisted, folding my arms across my chest. "Your spirit can help. Azahira, was it?"
The sand devil's pincers clicked menacingly as it pulled more of its enormous body from beneath the dunes.
"Are you insane?" Lailah hissed. "That thing could swallow us whole!"
"Only if you let it," I countered, adding some dramatic tone in my voice. "Power isn't given, Lailah. It's taken. Claimed. Forged through necessity and will."
She glanced between me and the advancing creature, panic in her silver eyes. She swallowed as determination flashed. "And if I fail?"
"Then I'll save you." I met her gaze steadily. "But you won't fail."
Something shifted in her expression—fear giving way to resolution. She turned toward the sand ghoul, shoulders squared and hands raised. The air around her began to stir, gathering speed as it circled her arms.
"Azahira," she whispered, voice stronger now. "Help me."
The wind howled in response, and for just a moment, brief enough I might have imagined it, I saw a flicker of transparent wings beside her.
As the sand devil lunged, Lailah thrust her hands forward, and the desert seemed to rise in answer to her call. In that moment, watching silver eyes blaze with newfound purpose, watching the wind howl like a screeching banshee, I realized something thrilling.
I might be creating something terrifying in teaching her to harness her power.
****
The wind slammed the Sand Ghoul backward, its segmented tail arcing high above its head. Poison glistened at the tip, catching the desert sun like an amber jewel.
"Nice. Now keep your distance," I shouted as the creature hissed, and then its stinger plunged terrifyingly toward Lailah.
She dove sideways, silver eyes wide with panic, the stinger missing her by a breath's width. The ghoul's tail punched into the sand with enough force to send a tremor through the dunes.
"I-it's too fast!" she gasped, scrambling backward as the creature extracted its stinger from the sand. “Alexandar, I don’t think I can do it. It really is too fast!”
"Is it? Fast is relative," I called back, leaning against a rock with calculated nonchalance. Vyrn was perched on my shoulder, ready to leap in at any moment and help Lailah if she needed any. "The wind is faster. Direct it, don't just unleash it."
I didn’t know how her powers worked exactly, but such basic instruction could be applied anywhere.
The ghoul's pincers snapped at her, each large enough to sever a limb. Lailah twisted away, her movements surprisingly graceful despite her fear. The wind around her began to condense, no longer just swirling but sharpening.
"Imagine cutting the air like a blade," I instructed. "Focus your intent."
The ghoul lunged again, but this time Lailah didn't retreat. She thrust her palm forward, and a visible ripple tore through the air. It struck the creature's carapace with a crack that echoed across the dunes, leaving a deep fissure in its armor.
The ghoul screeched, the sound like metal scraping against stone.
"Better," I nodded. "Now finish it."
Lailah's confidence grew with each movement; it was lovely to look at. A hint of a smile could be seen on her lips, even as sweat trailed down her cheek. The wind responded to her with increasing precision, no longer the chaotic hurricane of before but a focused weapon. She dodged another strike, then another, silver eyes narrowed in concentration.
When the ghoul charged, she met it head-on. The air around her hands compressed to near-visibility, and she drove both palms forward as if pushing through a wall. The concentrated wind blast hit the creature's wounded carapace, widening the crack until the shell split entirely.
The Sand Ghoul collapsed, its legs twitching in death throes.
Lailah stood panting, sweat streaking paths through the dust on her face. Her hands trembled slightly, but her eyes held a new light—the gleam of someone who has just discovered their own strength.
"Not bad," I said, joining her beside the fallen monster. "For a ‘farmer's daughter,’ like you said."
She turned to me, exhaustion mixing with exhilaration on her face. "Yes, yes, I’ll let you have that. I've never... it's never been so clear before. The way the air moved..." She flexed her fingers in wonder. "It felt like an extension of myself."
"Because it is. Better than me, you know how true that statement is," I replied, watching something ancient and powerful awakening behind her silver eyes. "We should move. Where there's one Sand Ghoul, others often follow."
“You know desert monsters better than me now?”
“I read it in a book,” I shrugged.
****
Hours later, the sun hung like a molten coin in the cloudless sky. My internal senses, damaged but not entirely defunct, detected the subtle change in Lailah's aura as we trudged across the baking wasteland.
"Congratulations," I said a few hours too late, breaking the silence. "How does Level 8 feel?"
She glanced at me, surprise evident in her face. "How could you possibly know that?"
"The same way I knew the ghoul was Level 18." I gestured vaguely. "It's a gift."
"Is there anything you can't see?" she challenged, though there was only genuine curiosity in her voice.
"...My own future," I answered honestly. "And possibly a way out of this miserable heat before we both melt."
As if in answer to my complaint, a lone formation of rocks appeared on the horizon, promising at least a sliver of shade. By unspoken agreement, we altered our course toward it.
The rocks formed a natural alcove, and beneath its shadow, the sand felt almost cool. Vyrn, who had retreated to the pendant during our march, reappeared and settled on a jutting stone above my head.
Lailah sank to the ground with a grateful sigh, leaning back against the rock face. She studied me with that curious blend of wariness and fascination that had become her signature expression.
"Water?" She offered our shared canteen.
I accepted, our fingers brushing briefly. The contact sent a current through my skin that had nothing to do with Qi or magic. That was odd.
"So," she began, her tone light despite her exhaustion, "Alexander of the Spirit Owl. Does your spectral friend often materialize to warn of danger? Or is he merely decorative, like the useless golden tassels nobles hang from their belts?"
I snorted mid-drink, nearly choking on water. "Vyrn would be mortally offended at being compared to a tassel, decorative or otherwise." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "And no, he doesn’t only materialize when it suits him, which is rarely when it would be most convenient for me. I can call for him anytime I want."
Above us, Vyrn ruffled his ghostly feathers indignantly.
"Why didn’t you bring him out when we were home?”
“He was sleeping,” I lied.
Lailah stared at me for a moment before shaking her head. She moved on from me and observed the owl. “He seems quite sensitive. For a ghost-bird whose feelings you claim to understand despite his reluctance to speak."
"The best conversations," I replied, handing back the canteen, "require no words at all."
"Is that so?" She raised an eyebrow. "And what does your silent companion tell you of me, then?"
I studied her, allowing my gaze to linger longer than was strictly proper. The desert had burned her skin a deeper bronze, bringing out flecks of gold in her silver eyes. Sand crystals clung to her lashes, catching the light.
"He thinks you're dangerous," I said finally, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But so am I, so he's not particularly concerned."
Lailah laughed, the sound pure and unexpected in the barren landscape. "And does he approve of your company with a half-jinn witch?"
"Half-jinn," I corrected gently. "Not witch. Words have power, Lailah. Use the right ones."
Her laughter faded, replaced by something more somber. "...Father told you."
"He did," I confirmed. "Just as I showed him what I am."
"And what exactly is that?" she pressed, leaning forward slightly. "A wanderer with a spirit owl and power enough to shatter blades against your skin? Are you really not a Gold Dragon?"
I smiled enigmatically. "Something made, not born. Like you, in a way—the product of two worlds."
“No way,” she stood up in shock. “A-are you a Jinn too?! "Is that why you pushed me to fight the ghoul? Because you saw something familiar in me?” The question was genuine, which made me burst out laughing. Her face went red as she realized how excited she’d sounded for a moment. My laughter was enough. Her bronze skin reddened.
"I pushed you because power uncontrolled is more dangerous than any ghoul, and no, I’m not a Jinn," I replied. "What flows through your veins isn't evil, Lailah. But it demands respect and mastery."
She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers thoughtfully. "Before today, the wind only answered when I was frightened or angry. Even when some spirits remained nearby, it was them who did the fighting, not me. I never knew I could... direct it so precisely."
"The storm and the breeze come from the same sky," I said. "One devastates, the other caresses. The difference lies in the wielder's intent."
Vyrn hooted softly above us, his spectral form casting no shadow despite the harsh sunlight.
"Does Azahira speak to you?" I asked. "Or merely respond?"
Lailah's eyes narrowed slightly at the direct question. "She... doesn't use words. It's more like... impressions. Feelings. Sometimes images."
"And what does she show you of me?" I mirrored her earlier question, curious despite myself. “I think she loves to play around with my emotions, sometimes.”
A faint blush crept across her cheeks. "She says you burn too brightly. Like staring at the sun. She wonders how you contain it without... combusting."
I laughed. "I don’t know if your Azahira has keen sight or if she’s blind. She talks as if I’m some follower of the God of Light, although at the same time, her words aren’t quite wrong… I suppose."
Lailah took a long drink from the canteen, her throat working as she swallowed. When she lowered it, her gaze met mine with renewed intensity.
"I've never met anyone like you," she said simply.
"Nor I you," I countered, switching to Erabic. "The desert breeds rare blooms, they say. Flowers that only show their true colors under the harshest conditions."
"Am I a flower in this metaphor?" She raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"A desert rose, perhaps," I said, allowing a hint of charm to color my voice. "Beautiful, resilient, and with thorns sharp enough to draw blood."
“You’re suddenly a poet. You speak as if you've wandered many deserts, Alexander." She tilted her head curiously. "For a man who claims to remember nothing of his past."
"Some things," I said, "are written in the bone, not the mind."
Lailah drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "The Baron hunts for witches because he is disgusted by dark magic, and perhaps fears what he cannot control. My mother was one of many."
"Fear often wears the mask of righteousness," I agreed. "It's easier to destroy what we don't understand than to face our own ignorance. Although I think he has a more personal reason than baseless fear, from what I’ve heard of him so far."
"Yet you," she observed, "show no fear of me. Even knowing what I am."
"I told you," I said, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth, "I'm dangerous too." The way I said it was meant to be a joke, which earned her a soft giggle.
Vyrn chose that moment to swoop down from his perch, circling Lailah's head before settling on my shoulder. She watched him with open fascination.
"I think he likes you," I offered. "He's usually far more standoffish with strangers."
"I think it’s mostly because of Azahira," she replied, her voice softening. "Spirits recognize their own kind."
"As do we all, in the end." I stood, stretching my limbs. "We should continue while the sun is still high. The Lightning Canyons are treacherous to navigate in twilight."
As Lailah rose to join me, she made a small, circular gesture with her hand. The air around us stirred, and a cool breeze—impossibly refreshing in the scorching heat—washed over our skin.
She grinned at my surprised expression. "Just practicing, as instructed."
"Control through intent," I nodded approvingly. "You learn quickly."
"I have a good teacher," she replied, her silver eyes meeting mine with unmistakable warmth. “I should be able to extract water from the air soon. So don’t you worry about dying of thirst, alright, mister?
"Don't flatter me too much, desert rose," I warned with mock seriousness. "My head is large enough without your encouragement."
As we gathered our meager belongings and prepared to face the burning wasteland once more, I wondered at the strange turns of fate. Here I stood, like a God fallen from godhood, walking the sands with a half-jinn farm girl who commanded the wind with growing skill.
The universe, as Rafin had said, truly did have a terrible sense of humor.
But as Lailah walked ahead, her silhouette shimmering in the heat haze, I found myself smiling despite everything. Some journeys, unexpected as they might be, carried their own strange magic.
Vyrn hooted softly from my shoulder, as if in agreement.
"I know," I murmured to him. "I'm probably going to regret this." As might she.
The spectral owl made a sound suspiciously like laughter as we followed Lailah into the burning heart of the desert.
