A piercing screech rings out as the monstrous scorpion lunges forward, its massive venomous tail arcing down from the sky, aimed directly at its prey. Without hesitation, I counter with a swift strike.

*Clang!* My blade deflects the venomous stinger, sending sparks flying as the sharp clang reverberates in the air, the force of the impact heavy against my palm.

“This one’s a tough one…”

I swing my sword again, cutting a dark line through the air to block the scorpion’s massive pincers. It’s relentless, lunging with full force.

*Clang! Crunch! Crash!* Each impact rings in my ears. This mutant creature’s patterns are indeed complex; its hard shell makes it tough to wound, forcing me into a defensive stance. I press forward, pouring strength into my sword.

*Thunk! Clang!* I step back, drawing it toward our intended spot. The creature, blinded by its fury, doesn’t even realize it’s overextending itself. Then, as it comes into range—

*Ting! Shwiing!* A crossbow bolt, packed with mana, cuts through the air and buries itself precisely between the scorpion’s eyes, slipping past its armor.

A shriek of pain escapes the creature as it collapses to the ground. A clean, instant kill. I wipe the sweat from my brow and raise a thumb in acknowledgment to the approaching old man, his silvery hair billowing in the desert wind.

“An excellent strategy, sir.”

“You’ve done well yourself,” he replies.

I chuckle, brushing it off. “It was nothing.”

“This one was especially troublesome… I’m not even sure it’s an ordinary creature.”

“We’ll likely encounter many more of its kind.”

“Hmm? And you know this how?”

“Just a hunch.”

We chat lightly as we rest, and Regia, who’s been waiting nearby, rushes over.

“Master!” She calls out.

“Regia.”

“Are you hurt anywhere? I—I can help heal you!”

“Unfortunately, no injuries to tend to.”

“Oh…”

Regia looks down, clearly disappointed, frustrated by her inability to help. I reach over, gently patting her pink hair with a soft smile.

“Thanks for the concern.”

“I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any use this time, either…”

She looks crestfallen. I reassure her, speaking gently, when suddenly, a familiar sound catches our attention—the old man’s cough, rougher than before.

*Cough, cough…!* Once again, he spits up blood, almost as if he’s vomiting. The sight is startling.

“Sir!” Regia exclaims, rushing forward. “Are you alright?”

We move to support his unsteady frame. The intense battle must have taken a toll on his already weakened body.

*Cough* “I’m fine… don’t worry.”

Even with blood at the corner of his mouth, the old man waves us off, offering a steady, warm smile. He remains as calm as ever.

“It’s that old sickness, remember? No need for alarm.”

“B-but…!”

“You’ve been watching me for days now. You ought to be used to it. Now, could I perhaps borrow a handkerchief?”

“Here—let me help you with the blood,” Regia says, her hands trembling as she dabs at the stain on his lips, tears glistening in her eyes.

The old man chuckles softly as he watches her, then looks over at me.

“You’re truly blessed, young man.”

“Hmm?”

“To have such a kind-hearted girl as your partner. She’s almost too good for you, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh?” I reply, playing along.

“E-eh?!” Regia freezes, her cheeks turning as red as the handkerchief she drops to the ground, clearly overwhelmed by the unexpected comment.

The mischievous glint in the old man’s eye gives him away, and I seize the moment to fuel the joke.

“Quite right, sir. I’m rather lucky, I’d say.”

“M-M-Master?!” Regia’s face flushes even deeper, stammering helplessly.

With our little tease, the heavy atmosphere lightens. Having cleared the blood from his mouth, the old man stands with a gentle smile, as if he’d planned the exchange from the beginning.

“Now then, shall we continue?” he suggests.

“Certainly,” I reply.

“Yes, let’s…” Regia mutters, face still red as we set off.

*Crunch, crunch.* The sand shifts underfoot as we march across the seemingly endless desert. As we walk, Regia regains her composure and turns to the old man with a question.

“Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes? What’s on your mind?”

“While I was looking around, I noticed something strange in the sand… it looked almost like rooftops, as if something were buried beneath. Do you know what it might be?”

The old man halts abruptly, his expression shifting.

“Sir…?” Regia tilts her head, puzzled.

After a brief silence, he manages a faint smile.

“...I’m afraid I don’t know much about it.”

Yet I can see his eyes tremble ever so slightly.

---

Our journey stretches on for days, punctuated by relentless scorpion attacks. The old man’s condition continues to deteriorate. He now coughs up blood more frequently and has begun to lose consciousness occasionally. Despite our concerns, he refuses to turn back. Knowing that we couldn’t return even if we wanted to, we continue onward, adjusting our pace to support him.

“Such a burden I’ve become… I’m truly sorry.”

“Oh, please, don’t apologize!”

“We couldn’t make it to the city without your guidance, sir. No need for apologies.”

“My thanks to you both.”

The monster waves become more grueling as we near our destination, the creatures themselves growing stronger. We’re dealing with middle-tier creatures or higher. Truly a test for the skilled.

“Master! They’re coming up from behind!” Regia shouts.

“Understood.”

“Like before, I’ll draw them out so you can take them down,” the old man offers.

“Are you sure?”

“No trouble at all.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Each battle grows more intense, pushing us to our limits. This is all part of the test. I’m holding back just enough to maintain a delicate balance, but the old man’s weakening state only escalates the challenge, forcing Regia to shoulder a heavier burden.

“I’ll… I’ll take on just one more!”

Regia seems more determined, her sense of responsibility driving her to compensate for any gaps in ability. She fights desperately, despite her exhaustion.

But even her determination can’t hold back the ever-increasing tension as we press on through endless waves of monsters. With attacks occurring up to six times a day, we can barely catch our breath. A week in the desert passes this way.

---

*Whoosh…* A light wind stirs the cool, desert air beneath a starlit sky. Alone, I stand watch, a faintly glowing lantern by my side. The heat of the day has faded, leaving only a serene chill.

Silence cloaks the desert until I hear faint footsteps behind me, disturbing the quiet. I turn to see the old man, his white hair glinting under the stars.

“Sir?” I call softly.

“It’s me.”

He sits down beside me, unable to sleep. The pain seems to keep him awake, pulling him from rest. I ask gently.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve told you, no problem at all.”

“I noticed you haven’t eaten today.”

“Even scorpion tails lose their appeal after a while.”

“A fair point.”

The old man laughs, and for a while, we chat lightly, eventually lapsing into silence, both of us subdued.

*...*

The stillness stretches, until the old man speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, as though speaking to himself.

“I know I’ve been selfish, and that I’m burdening you both.”

“Not at all, sir.”

He smiles, sensing my sincerity.

“Still… I have to see her.”

“You mean your friend?”

“She’s still my whole world.”

“How romantic.”

“Oh, Rosalyn always hated that about me.”

“I’m sure she loved it, secretly.”

“I hope so. She was always so shy.”

It’s funny how you only realize how much you cherish someone after they’re gone. That’s how it was with them—a truth noted in the official game lore.

“Not a day has gone by without thinking of her.”

Even during his time abroad, his conscription, the battles, and finally, the elusive peace, he thought only of her.

“A little foolish, don’t you think?”

“...”

“I’ve lived fifty years with nothing but that promise.”

Yet she might have forgotten long ago. He murmurs with a bittersweet smile as his white hair drifts in the night breeze.

“Foolish, isn’t it?”

What do you call someone who, even in old age, remembers their youth so vividly?

The old man is both an adult and still a boy.

“Not foolish at all.”

I respond sincerely, and he acknowledges it with a grateful smile.

“Heh… it’s kind of you to say that.”

Someone once said the desert is beautiful because it hides an oasis. The most precious things are often unseen.

Life, too, is like that. What makes the old man’s life inspiring is his devotion to a single rose that still blooms in his heart.

“What about you?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“You remind me of myself at that age. You laugh easily, but hide your true self from others. That’s usually fear, you know.”

“...”

I can’t reply, feeling as if he’s seen right

 through me.

“A life without regrets—does such a thing even exist?”

Young or old, people carry regrets. Yet just as dawn follows the night, happiness finds us after hardship. That’s what makes life beautiful.

“Even through regret, we can dream of a better tomorrow.”

His wrinkled hand rests briefly on my head, an unfamiliar warmth in his gesture.

“You’ll manage just fine.”

“…”

I’ve always been the one to comfort others, and yet here he is, comforting me.

“Remember what you said when we first met?”

The promise he’d made me consider.

“Would you take this old man to the stars?”

I remember his words and answer in turn.

“I’ll make sure you reach those stars.”

The old man seems surprised, then nods, chuckling.

“Heh… what a reassuring promise!”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And I’ll guide you to the city with all I’ve got!”

“A true partnership.”

“Ha-ha!”

With only a day remaining, I speak with him under the starlit desert sky, a world both harsh and beautiful.