Departure

"What do you mean you want to search for that guy?!"

Olie, the demonic maid, shook Laura furiously, her sharp voice cutting through the early morning air. Her usual composure was gone, replaced by a frantic desperation that made her grip tighten around Laura's arms. Tears welled up in her obsidian eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

Laura simply held Olie's trembling hands, her expression calm and steady despite the storm of emotions around her. Her gaze softened as she gently pried the girl's fingers off her shoulders.

"Nothing will happen to me, Olie. You don't need to worry," she reassured, offering a small, knowing smile. "I'll be fine."

But the words didn't soothe Olie. Her lips quivered before she choked on a sob, throwing herself into Laura's arms. She clung to her like a child unwilling to let go of their mother, the warmth of her body trembling against Laura's own.

Another maid—one blessed in certain areas—shifted nervously before speaking, her concern evident in her hesitant voice.

"Sis Laura… do you really have to do this?" she asked. "It's been a month since he is gone. He's most likely dead. Why take such a risk?"

Laura let out a soft sigh, as if she had expected this reaction.

She had already considered this question over and over again in her mind.

And yet…

"If he's dead, then it's not a problem," she said. "But if he isn't… and his family finds out that we did nothing to help—"

She let the weight of her words settle in the air, allowing them to feel the gravity of the situation themselves.

Silence fell over the room like a suffocating fog.

No one dared to finish the thought, but they all knew what she meant.

The Sanguis were not merciful.

All of Aetherion knew that fact.

Laura chuckled wryly, a hint of bitterness in her tone.

"See? Deep down, you all understand."

They wanted to protest, to tell her it wasn't worth it.

But they couldn't.

Because they knew she was right.

A maid with a high ponytail hesitated before stepping forward, gathering the courage to speak.

"Then I'll go with you. Two people are better than one."

Laura shook her head immediately.

"No. We need people here too," she said. "I don't know how long this journey will take. If something happens to me, I need you here to look after the others."

The ponytailed maid clenched her fists, frustrated, but she nodded.

Laura continued, her voice unwavering.

"Besides, I have battle experience. And I'll be taking heat-resistant armor and supplies. Just because I haven't awakened doesn't mean I'm weak."

Her confidence made them hesitate.

She was right, after all.

The well-endowed maid finally broke the silence.

"When will you leave, sis?"

Laura tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think.

"Once my packing is done."

A collective gasp filled the room.

Olie, still shaken, blurted out in disbelief, "Isn't that too fast?!"

Laura gave a wry smile.

"…I guess it is."

...

Packing was a simple task.

Everything she needed was stored inside her spatial ring—a convenient tool for carrying supplies without burden.

Her outfit wasn't extravagant, but it was practical. A desert-style outfit designed to resist extreme temperatures, reinforced with metallic armor plating over vital areas. A thick, flowing robe draped over her body, concealing her silhouette and shielding her from the relentless desert sun.

At the castle gate, the maids gathered for their final goodbyes.

Olie was the first to step forward, clutching her hands together as if in prayer.

"Laura, please be safe," she pleaded. "If you don't find him after a week, just come back… please."

Next, the ponytailed maid spoke with firm conviction in her voice.

"Don't worry about us or the town," she said. "We'll take care of everything. You focus on surviving."

The shy maid said nothing—she simply hugged Laura tightly, refusing to let go.

Finally, the well-endowed maid hesitated before whispering, "If you get the chance… kill him."

Laura stiffened.

Her breath hitched, and for the first time, a shadow flickered across her expression.

That thought… it had crossed her mind countless time before.

She, too, had once prayed for that outcome.

But right now?

Right now, she hated the idea of his death.

His words echoed in her mind. 'When you find an actual reason to hate me, let me know.'

She didn't understand why, but those words struck a nerve.

She chose not to dwell on it.

Instead, she hugged her fellow maids one last time.

Then, without another word, she turned toward her waiting horse, climbed into the saddle, and with a sharp pull of the reins—

—her journey to the west began.

...

The journey was long and grueling.

Endless stretches of sand and heat, the rhythmic pounding of hooves, and the ever-present sun bearing down on her like an oppressive weight.

Even with her heat-resistant armor, the exhaustion seeped deep into her bones.

After six or seven hours of relentless riding, she finally spotted something through the shimmering haze of heat.

A carriage.

It was left abandoned beneath an oak tree.

Her pulse quickened.

She hurriedly dismounted, striding toward it with measured steps. Flipping open the door, she scanned the inside—

A spatial bag lay untouched on one of the seats.

Her hands moved instinctively, searching through it.

Everything was still inside.

Weapons, supplies—nothing had been taken.

Her heart sank.

"What happened to him…?"

He had left everything behind.

That meant he had entered the merciless desert—without protection, without supplies.

A terrible thought crept into her mind.

"He might already be dead."

But she refused to accept it.

Gritting her teeth, she climbed back onto her horse and steeled herself.

She had to find him.

No matter what.

...

The moment she crossed the threshold from civilization into the true desert, she felt the shift.

The winds changed.

No longer a gentle breeze, but a scorching, biting force that tore at her robe.

Sandstorm winds.

The grains of sand, swept up by the relentless gales, obscured her vision.

Thankfully, her gear was working perfectly.

The heat-resistant armor, the special ornaments designed for extreme conditions—everything was holding up.

But something was wrong.

As she traveled deeper into the desert, a sinking feeling settled in her chest.

"Something's off…"

There were no creatures.

None of the monstrous beasts that should've been lurking here.

No sand striders, no desert crawlers, not even a single sky vulture in sight.

The realization made her tense.

"This isn't normal…"

Her fingers tightened around the reins.

She whispered to her horse, urging it to go faster.

Something was here.

Something that had driven away everything else.

And she had a terrible feeling she was about to find out what.