Sand Mage of the Burnt Desert Chapter 4

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Chapter 4

The miners failed to return to the lodge that night.

Because of their absence, Zeon claimed the entire spacious room for himself, allowing a peaceful night's sleep.

“Hnnggh!”

Zeon rose from the bed, stretching his limbs wide.

His recent awakening left him free of any weariness, filled instead with invigorating vitality.

“Nice!”

Zeon felt pleased with his revitalized body.

Even though dawn had just broken, the sun's rays blazed fiercely, threatening to burn exposed skin.

Previously, Zeon would have rushed to shield himself. But not anymore.

This change stemmed from his awakening too.

Zeon wandered the mining city, relishing the perks of his newfound power.

Though modest and rundown, the settlement offered nearly all essentials.

The Magic Stone Mine served as a vital outpost in the vast desert.

Caravans traversing the sands halted here for provisions and traded wares acquired from distant cities.

Moreover, groups of adventurers like Jang Yong-beom's stopped by to inspect gear ahead of dungeon assaults.

All this bustle had fostered a decent-sized marketplace in town.

‘I must first grasp every detail about this location.’

Stories from mine workers had revealed much about the Magic Stone Mine's operations, yet seeing it firsthand far surpassed mere hearsay.

From his slum days, Zeon relied solely on facts he could confirm personally.

Few souls roamed the dingy market streets.

With the hour so early and most miners still deep underground, the area felt eerily empty.

The mine's depths twisted like a labyrinth, so workers packed days of rations, since extracting one Magic Stone demanded several days' labor.

Coming and going repeatedly wasted precious time, leading miners to camp and dine within.

Their existence was utterly wretched.

Zeon had doubted such tales upon first hearing them.

Luckily, awakening had spared him for now, but without honing his powers quickly, the mines might claim him soon.

He had to avoid that fate at all costs.

Grumble!

A frown creased Zeon's face.

His stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten well since yesterday's lunch.

Hunger demanded immediate attention.

Zeon stepped into the market seeking food.

No fancy eateries likely existed here, yet he carried some funds.

At the market's rear, a stall wafted mouthwatering aromas from grilling meat skewers.

The grill master was a ragged elderly man.

Deep creases etched his face, a beard framed it, and one lens of his spectacles lay cracked, obscuring his age.

Zeon sat before the elder, asking tentatively.

“What kind of meat is this?”

“Best not to know. Hehe!”

“I’m just…”

Zeon nodded in understanding.

Once, he had tended cows and pigs, feasting on meat freely, but such abundance vanished in this era.

Even Neo Seoul depended on synthetic lab meat. In the slums, rats, bugs, or monster leavings sustained the desperate.

Zeon grabbed a skewer and bit in without fuss.

Peering through shattered lenses, the old man eyed him.

“New around here?”

“Arrived yesterday. Tastes great.”

Zeon replied between chews.

“Yesterday? So you're the Sandworm survivor.”

“Word travels that fast?”

“Hehe! Secrets don't last here, save your underwear color. By tomorrow, all will know.”

“Tsk!”

“Hehe! Pure types with nice vibes draw lots of attention.”

Zeon caught the old man's implication instantly and shot a fierce glare.

Undeterred by the intensity, the elder pressed on.

“Watch yourself. No clue why you fled here, but it's no safe haven.”

“Fled? Nah, came to make coin.”

“Hehe! Maybe so. Still, you're utterly unprepared.”

“For what?”

“Money-seekers bring pickaxes. Yours missing screams amateur.”

The elder's sharp insight furrowed Zeon's brows deeply.

Amused by the response, the old man grinned.

Zeon shifted topics.

“You've been here ages, huh?”

“Since the Magic Stone Mine's discovery. Old-timer status.”

“That far back?”

“Yep! See those? Collected from day one.”

The old man gestured into his shop.

Heaps of unrecognizable odds and ends cluttered the interior.

“What's all that?”

“Leftovers from early stubborn arrivals. Like you.”

“Like me?”

“They fight mine entry desperately. Sell gear when cash dries up—from trash to treasures. Mine-bound only when barren. Standard cycle.”

“Insane!”

“Valuables ship to Neo Seoul; junk lingers. Traces of the broken. Hehe!”

The old man's cackle sent chills.

His stare implied Zeon might join their ranks.

Zeon's hunger fled.

He swallowed the last bite and rose.

“How much?”

“Ten sols!”

“Crazy! Gold-dusted meat? Ten sols per skewer?”

Zeon blurted in shock.

Neo Seoul Colony's currency hinged on Magic Stones, one per kilo.

One sol equaled a thousandth of a Magic Stone—ten sols a hundredth.

Such gouging shocked even Neo Seoul standards.

Zeon's anger surged naturally.

The old man stayed unmoved.

As if anticipating the outburst.

“All goods here are treasures: food, garb, tools. Hence the prices.”

“What if I skip paying?”

“Hehe! Explains how a frail elder thrives in this brutal spot so long.”

“How?”

Suddenly, nearby vendors swiveled toward Zeon.

Their piercing stares made him clench his jaw.

‘Old-timer, he said.’

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Meaning dawned now.

The elder likely linked with mine shops, maybe market boss.

Long survival demanded savvy and backing.

Refuse payment, and no trades elsewhere.

“Damn! Stepped in it.”

“Brains still sharp. Some fools rage blindly.”

“Hah! Broke now…”

“Then trade something else. Magic Stone?”

“…”

“Magic Stone it is. Fork it over for fair value.”

Zeon resisted fiercely.

No way he'd trade a life-earned Magic Stone for mere skewers.

The old man smirked at his defiance.

“Kid! Magic Stone rumors hit the mines in an hour. Can you guard it?”

Source unspoken: the elder himself.

Zeon glared hard.

Proud of his trials, yet the elder dwarfed them manifold.

In cunning and boldness, Zeon paled.

A mere pup beside him.

With Magic Stone exposed, refusal impossible.

“Damn it!”

Zeon fished out the tiny Magic Stone from his pants.

The old man's eyes flashed.

“That size? Around a hundred sols.”

“Joke? Three hundred plus in Neo Seoul.”

“Not Neo Seoul here.”

“This for real?”

“Kid! Treasures turn curses without power. Hehe!”

The old man laughed heartily.

Zeon ached to strike, but held back.

Easy to overpower, but fallout loomed.

Longevity meant ties to mine guardians, Awakened Ones.

The elder's nonchalance screamed confidence.

Decades here bred dominance that cowed Zeon.

He shrank inexplicably.

“Haa!”

Zeon sighed deeply.

This scrap, won through peril, now mere hundred sols. Efforts wasted.

“All that hell for nothing…”

Reluctantly, he surrendered the Magic Stone.

“Hehe! Chin up. Not a total shark with fresh faces.”

“What?”

“Ninety sols yours. Guard 'em—pickpockets prowl.”

“Cat playing nice with mouse, eh…”

Muttering, Zeon stashed the ninety sols.

The old man chuckled, nodding inside.

“First deal bonus: pick from the pile.”

“That garbage?”

“Pass if you wish…”

“Damn it!”

Zeon entered, refusing empty-handed defeat.

Swindled, he craved some salvage.

Value unlikely—Neo Seoul took primes, leaving scraps.

Zeon sifted the clutter.

“Nothing but trash. What to grab?”

“Hehe!”

The old man enjoyed the show.

Zeon amused him.

Others wilted in despair; he burned defiant.

Backed by something solid.

This world ground down all: folk, gear, hopes.

Fresh vigor shone bright amid decay.

Thus, the elder grinned watching.

Zeon's grumbles amid junk hunt pulsed with life.

His loss-aversion charmed.

Suddenly, Zeon unearthed an item.

“What's this?”

A tiny hourglass gleamed in his hand.

“Hourglass.”

“Duh. Why's it here?”

“No takers, so it stayed.”

Casual truth from the old man.

Long ago, acquired from a Neo Seoul-bound caravan.

Bundled buy, deemed useless, junked.

Ruined world shunned such relics.

Mere ornament.

Neo Seoul elites alone indulged; they shunned here.

“Pick elsewise?”

“Hmph! Nothing better intact.”

“No regrets?”

“Deal.”

Hourglass pocketed, Zeon exited.

“Hehe! Return soon.”

“Pass.”

“We'll meet again.”

“Dread that…”

Irritated, Zeon departed.

The old man smiled after him.

Zeon paused, turning back.

“Name?”

“Klexi.”

“Old man Klexi then. Stay away.”

Zeon strode off firmly.

Klexi chuckled at his retreating form.

“Impossible. Much more to strip and savor. Hehehe!”

Suckers hooked got drained bone-dry—that ruled Magic Stone Mines.

Klexi knew these laws best.

[Translator – Peptobismol]