They hadn’t even reached the top of the dune before Pikar had another idea. Using one of Ricarda’s plants, they fashioned crude sand-snowshoes so they wouldn’t sink as deeply. Only then did they finally move on.
For Pikar, it seemed crucial to spend as little time as possible at the crest of a dune. It offered the best view—but also made them the most visible. Being spotted was something they wanted to avoid at all costs.
Still, Thalion couldn’t resist taking a quick look.
It was… underwhelming.
No matter where he looked—sand. Dune after dune after dune. It almost tempted him to fly high into the sky just to get a proper overview.
As they moved forward, Pikar counted every step to make sure they wouldn’t overshoot the first treasure location. Meanwhile, Thalion checked the leaderboard.
He didn’t recognize a single name. Everyone was still at zero points, and the rankings were completely random.
Nearly four million participants.
Thalion assumed that some had already died—or been killed by their own allies.
The real question was how many would still be alive after the first day.
With nothing but sand in every direction, anyone who failed to find the first clue was essentially doomed. Trapped in the trial with no way out.
The more Thalion thought about it, the less he liked this setup.
If someone randomly stumbled upon the same catacomb they were heading toward… it could ruin everything.
Still, there was one upside.
If the hunters were too busy chasing other trails, they might be able to complete the event without ever being noticed.
They stuck to Pikar’s plan and didn’t speak. Not a single word.
From time to time, Ricarda and Pikar sent out their minions to search for clues. The insects and plants were strictly forbidden from using skills, and their auras had to be fully suppressed.
So far… nothing.
As they continued, the sun sank lower, and the desert slowly began to change. The dunes grew closer together, forming long canyons where they could move for extended periods without exposing themselves by climbing to the top.
Then they saw it.
A figure flying high in the distance.
It didn’t look like they had a plan.
Moments later, darkness fell. The sun disappeared behind the horizon—and a system message appeared.
The Hunt has begun
You can no longer leave this system event
Be careful—the Wild Hunt is not the only danger you will face
Good luck
“I hate this trial,” Pikar hissed. “What kind of idiot designed it? If we run into a monster now, all that secrecy is wasted. We could’ve already been inside a catacomb. We’ve probably lost hours.”
“It’s important to adapt quickly,” Thalion said with a faint smile, giving the sky another thumbs-up.
Even so, his mood wasn’t much better. He pushed both of his titles to their limits, searching for any sign of danger.
So far… nothing.
Not even the Wild Hunt.
Which likely meant they were still far away—or hadn’t picked up their trail yet.
“What do we do now? Speed up?” Ricarda whispered.
“No. We stick to the plan,” Pikar replied, letting out a quiet breath. “I’ll send my ants ahead. That way we should be able to avoid any encounters.”
Thalion was glad he had entered this trial with them.
Solving riddles like this… was almost enjoyable.
It took another two hours before they reached their destination. Even with Pikar counting every step, it wasn’t exact. At first, it still looked like nothing but sand and dunes.
Thalion glanced at the leaderboard.
Two hundred thousand participants… already dead.
The Wild Hunt wasn’t a joke.
“Send out your plants,” Pikar whispered. “We need to find an entrance—or another clue. We should be close.”
As he spoke, he released several ants into the sand, their tiny forms disappearing into the darkness.
Ricarda followed, sending out tiny walking flowers and creeping vines from her body. Thalion didn’t bother with that. He simply moved around, relying on his titles to pick up anything unusual.
If Hunter of All didn’t detect a signature, nothing would.
And yet… nothing.
In the end, it was one of Pikar’s ants that found another small box.
That’s when it clicked for Thalion.
The box was too simple. No mana. No power. No trace at all.
Of course.
If it had a mana signature, the Wild Hunt would find it just as easily.
Which meant something else as well.
The hunters could probably enter the catacombs too.
Thalion quickly shared the thought, and both Pikar and Ricarda agreed.
Inside the box was a key—and a small piece of paper.
Thankfully, this time the riddle was simple enough that even Thalion understood it:
Lay hand upon the key, and it shall drink deep of thy strength—both mana and flesh alike.In the breath that follows, what was hidden shall answer the call, and the path beyond will awaken.
“We don’t know how long the one using the key will be weakened,” Pikar whispered, holding the box. “It has to be either Ricarda or me. Thalion is our main fighter.”
“I’ll do it,” Ricarda said immediately. “Mana drain comes with headaches—and we’ll need your mind clear.”
Without hesitation, she grabbed the key.
Thalion had to admit…
For an elven Chosen to openly acknowledge a human’s intelligence was rare. If he had a calendar, he would’ve marked the day.
The moment Ricarda touched the key, her energy visibly drained. A low rumble echoed beneath them.
Seconds later, the sand parted—and a small structure rose from below.
Ricarda rushed forward and opened the door.
All three stepped inside.
The door slammed shut behind them, and the ground trembled as the structure began to descend.
There was no light.
Thalion immediately shifted into his Eclipsari form. The darkness was so dense that even his normal vision had failed—but now he could see clearly.
The room was empty.
Just a single door on the opposite side.
Ricarda had already placed the key back in the box and was drinking a mana potion.
“We’re in some kind of chamber,” she said weakly. “There’s a door ahead—but I don’t think it’ll open before we reach our destination.”
She took a breath.
“The key drains everything. Mostly mana—but stamina and health are dropping fast too.”
Thalion nodded, then glanced toward Pikar.
“I’ve been thinking about the first riddle. Are you sure we were right about the ‘darkness’? Why would it be a double hint?”
There was something about this place that unsettled him.
Like he had willingly stepped into his own coffin.
“You might be right,” Pikar admitted. “But the direction was correct. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have found this place.”
“Yeah… but there’s a break in the sentence,” Thalion continued. “‘Survive the coming darkness… and live to witness the Tirkin’s song.’ What if this place isn’t the goal—but a trap? Something placed here for those who misread the clue?”
He frowned.
“What if the one who wrote this was afraid to enter?”
For a moment, even Pikar hesitated.
“That’s possible… but there were no other hints. I analyzed everything. If there are this many traps, the designer should’ve left some way to distinguish them.”
Slowly, Thalion felt unease creeping in.
When he thought back to Lyrian’s previous event…
He wouldn’t rule out that the man simply hadn’t bothered with such details.
I really shouldn’t have laughed at the others back then, Thalion thought grimly.
Karma’s catching up fast.
“Well… we can’t go back anyway,” he muttered. “So it’s all or nothing now. Last time, Lyrian put an S-grade plant into a C-grade trial that wiped everyone out—but that’s forbidden now. So… maybe we’ve got a chance.”
“He did WHAT?! If I had known that before, I… I… would never have entered!” Ricarda shouted.
Pikar let out a long sigh, but their frustration didn’t last long. The structure jolted to a halt.
With a low hum, purple crystals embedded in the walls flickered to life, casting a faint glow. A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as the door in front of them swung open.
Beyond it lay a vast hall of black stone, illuminated by the same unnatural neon light.
Something about that light felt… wrong.
It completely suppressed Thalion’s darkness—even when he allowed a bit of his aura to slip out.
At the center of the chamber stood a massive stone tablet. Time had worn it down, leaving only fragments of the text still readable.
Queen Elyra of the Tirkins sat upon a throne of unbroken light, and her empire stretched where the sun first touched the world.
Her people knew no hunger, no war, and sang her name as the keeper of their golden age.
…
But even the brightest reign must one day fade. The sky dimmed, and her cities fell silent beneath a shrouded veil.
…
Turn back while the silence still holds.
When the air begins to stir… it is already too late.
…
RUN
“Well… that’s not comforting,” Thalion muttered. “But at least we’re in the right place.”
He was mildly annoyed. Everything else in this ruin had survived the ages—but the most important parts of the text were missing.
Typical.
“I agree,” Pikar said quietly. “So… how do you think we open the gate behind the tablet?”
It was clear he wasn’t looking forward to what came next.
“Oh, come on. No need to be so gloomy,” Ricarda said, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ve got an Eclipsari with black eyes. If Thalion can’t handle this… no one can.”
“I don’t think this is something we can solve with brute force,” Pikar replied. “Whatever lies beyond that door… we’ll need to uncover something first. Otherwise, we lose.”
Thalion nodded.
That sounded about right.
Annoying—but expected.
Still, there was no reason to wait.
He stepped forward and placed both hands against the gate.
Slowly…
It began to open.