Paladin of the Dead God

Chapter 348: Salt Desert (1)

A scorching sun. The southern seas. A stark white coastline. Rolling waves.

Words that might evoke the beauty of a dream but deserve more description here.

A sun so cursed it could nearly boil the sea. Seas of the South teeming with bizarre creatures whose nature was impossible to guess. Not sand, but pure white grains of salt that had absorbed all moisture. And waves so brutal, they seemed ready to tear apart anything venturing just beyond the shore.

These words served to aptly describe the Salt Desert. In-game, it was a five-star difficulty zone, an extreme wasteland where simply standing still incurred damage over time, and now it spread out before them.

“It almost looks like snow… but it’s definitely not,” muttered Lianne, from the North and familiar with snowy landscapes.

Isaac had envisioned a vast, white salt expanse like that of the Uyuni Salt Flats, but the sight before him was quite different.

This desert, having been baked under the sun for nearly a millennium without a single drop of rain, was a dirty yellowish-white. Its patchy, uneven white coloring only made it appear more grimy. Even the famous Uyuni landscape, known for its pristine white salt, only achieved that temporary look during the rainy season.

“It’s probably from layers of sandstorms blowing in from the southern deserts,” Isaac said.

Lianne kicked the salt-crusted ground, which cracked slightly but felt solid.

“It’s firm enough that horses should be able to run on it well. That is, if the heat doesn’t kill them as soon as we’re past the beach.”

Most of the Issacrea Dawn Army stayed close to the shore, where the heat was slightly less intense, thanks to the chill radiating from the ghost ship. Even so, some soldiers couldn’t resist the sight of valuable salt lying about like trash and secretly stuffed their pockets. Although Isaac ordered the knights to stop them, it was impossible to catch everyone.

“We’ll sweat plenty crossing the desert—perhaps we’ll need some of it.”

While they had no concept of electrolytes, people in this world knew that heavy sweating meant consuming more salt.

But Isaac shook his head.

“It’ll add unnecessary weight, corrode our equipment, and dry out what little moisture we have. It’s better to warn the troops that ‘stealing the salt cursed by the Lighthouse Keeper will turn you into mummies.’ Let them know.”

Lianne conveyed Isaac’s warning to the knights, who passed it along. The soldiers, thoroughly frightened, immediately dumped out all the salt they’d collected.

In this world, superstition often worked better than reasoning.

***

Thud. A colossal dragon descended on a hill overlooking the beach, kicking up a dusty whirlwind.

It was Nel and Hesabel.

Both looked weary, but Hesabel especially so. She was wrapped from head to toe in layers of cloth, with only her eyes visible, and even those looked exhausted. The cursed sun of Miarma was particularly deadly to Hesabel, who was already sensitive to sunlight.

“How was it?” Isaac asked.

“…Just as you said—no oasis, not even a puddle,” she replied, her voice tired.

“But we’re about a day or two away from Miarma. Half a day, if we ride hard, assuming the horses hold up.”

The Salt Desert itself wasn’t especially vast. What Hesabel estimated considered the army’s pace; a lone traveler could cross it in under a day.

Isaac nodded.

“We must reach it within a day. Any longer and the heatstroke cases will slow us down. It’s better they collapse once we reach Miarma.”

Hesabel tilted her head.

“I saw Miarma’s location from a distance. The cursed sun looms directly above it. Wouldn’t it be wiser to avoid it by following the coastline?”

“Miarma is the most livable place in the Salt Desert.”

Everyone around Isaac looked at him with puzzled expressions. They thought of Miarma as a mere ruined city to pass through, lacking any obvious strategic value now that it was abandoned.

“Miarma was left by the Lighthouse Keeper as an example. The people there had to watch their homeland wither and die before their eyes. If he had wanted them all dead, he would have just dropped that sun right on top of Miarma.”

Isaac had seen the dying city a thousand years ago, courtesy of Amundalas. It was a city doomed to ruin, yet some people still survived there. It remained barely tolerable for a brief stay—hardly a hospitable place, but it was a shelter in comparison to the surrounding desert.

“Though it’s in ruins, people haven’t lived there in ages. The stable climate means many structures are still intact, and there should be a well or two left. It’s the only place in the Salt Desert where our army can take any meaningful rest… Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“…Have you been to Miarma before?” Hesabel asked, her tone incredulous. Lianne, Edelred, Tuhalin, and Rottenhammer all stared at Isaac, equally astonished at his detailed description.

Isaac paused, choosing to weave truth with fiction.

“When the Drowned King took me to Urbansus, an angel of the Salt Council showed me Miarma’s landscape, hoping for my help.”

“Ohhh…”

Of course, that vision was a thousand years old. The explanation was plausible enough yet impossible to refute, and the others murmured in quiet admiration. Isaac continued before they could ask any more questions.

“In any case, reaching Miarma quickly once we leave the coast is essential. This damned sun never sets, so we can’t wait for nightfall. Hesabel, did you encounter any creatures on the way?”

“Creatures? Oh, well… there were some wild animals, but they didn’t seem particularly dangerous.”

“Those are beasts from the Outer Boundary. Don’t underestimate them just because they seem weak.”

“Outer Boundary creatures?”

The assembled group exchanged uneasy glances. Though each was a hero of note within their respective faiths and hardly one to waver at the mention of monsters, they knew that creatures from the Outer Boundary were a different matter altogether.

Noticing their worry, Isaac offered a reassuring explanation.