Sand Mage of the Burnt Desert Chapter 609

The moment the door swung open from within, the man inside laid eyes upon Zeon.

“Who in the blazes is this guy?”

“He’s the one who rescued me. He’s not a threat, so don’t fret about him.”

As the bartender vouched for Zeon, the newcomer fixed him with a venomous glare.

“Damn it! How can I not worry? Are you out of your mind? You let just anyone in without confirming their identity?”

“I already told you I checked him thoroughly. Besides, that guy is hooked now too.”

“He took it?”

“Right in front of me. And he’s a Pathfinder, you know.”

“What?”

“A Pathfinder. A guide with supernatural detection abilities.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“How else do you think I managed to get out? We navigated through the underground sewers. You’re aware of how treacherous those passages are. Yet, he found the correct route flawlessly.”

Hearing the bartender’s account, the man’s brow furrowed.

The term Pathfinder piqued his interest.

Skilled navigators, or Pathfinders, were an exceedingly rare commodity.

Upon awakening their abilities, they were immediately sought after by major raid groups.

Even with the advent of portals simplifying travel to the magic stone mines and the Steel Fortress, their guidance remained indispensable in the unforgiving desert.

The man then turned his attention to Zeon, posing a direct question:

“Hey! Are you truly a Pathfinder?”

“And what if I am?”

“Which raid group do you belong to? If you’re an authentic Pathfinder, you must be affiliated with someone.”

“Do I really have to tell you?”

“What did you say?”

“I’m asking if I genuinely need to disclose my affiliation to you.”

“Damn it! This fellow is something else. Of course, you do. You barge in here and refuse to identify yourself? Are you seeking death?”

“And what exactly would you do if you knew? Try to blackmail me?”

Zeon’s mocking tone caused the man’s face to turn crimson.

His intentions had, in truth, been precisely that.

He had intended to leverage Zeon’s drug addiction, threatening exposure to his raid group, and then exploit him whenever the need arose.

The man’s glare intensified as he fixed Zeon with a menacing look.

“Are you really itching for a fight to the death?”

“If you possess the capability to kill me, then by all means, proceed.”

Zeon deliberately escalated the confrontation.

This only served to further inflame the man’s rage, causing him to bellow:

“What is all this infernal racket?”

At that precise moment, a frigid voice echoed from the interior.

The source of this chilling tone was a man whose long, braided hair flowed like that of a woman.

His complexion was unnervingly pale, and his expressionless countenance bore a striking resemblance to that of a corpse.

Upon his emergence, the man who had been berating Zeon turned a ghastly shade of white.

“Master Deungwi!”

“I inquired about the source of the disturbance.”

The voice belonging to the individual addressed as Deungwi grew progressively colder.

The man who had been locked in a verbal spar with Zeon hastily offered an explanation:

“He was brought in by Joe, the bartender from the slums, but he obstinately refuses to reveal his affiliation.”

“Then dispatch him. What is the complication?”

“However, he is a Pathfinder. He might prove useful…”

“Whether he is a Pathfinder or a mere navigator, we cannot afford to harbor an individual of unknown background. Terminate him. It is the cleaner solution.”

“Understood, Master Deungwi.”

With that pronouncement, the man advanced towards Zeon.

A palpable aura of killing intent emanated from his entire being.

He had harbored an animosity towards Zeon from the outset, and with Deungwi’s explicit command, any hesitation was now rendered unnecessary.

“Tsk.”

Clicking his tongue, Zeon’s gaze shifted to Deungwi.

Deungwi met Zeon’s stare, his eyes utterly devoid of emotion, much like those of a viper.

Gauging his visage and ocular expression alone, it was impossible to discern any flicker of feeling.

The instant Zeon observed his face, an instinctual certainty arose: this was not an individual whom he could deceive.

“Where do you think you’re looking, you cur?”

At that juncture, the man launched a powerful fist towards Zeon.

As an awakened individual possessing martial prowess, his fists were forged with a density exceeding that of tempered steel.

He had, on countless occasions, pulverized skulls with these very fists.

He harbored an unwavering conviction that this instance would prove no different.

Thud!

However, both his conviction and the launched fist were abruptly halted by Zeon’s outstretched palm.

Mere inches from striking his head, Zeon intercepted the blow with his hand.

“Ghk! What in the actual hell?”

The man struggled with all his might to wrench his fist free, yet it remained rigidly immobilized, as though ensnared within an unyielding vise.

At that precise moment, Zeon deliberately tightened his grip.

Crunch!

“Aaaagh!”

The bones within the man’s fist disintegrated with a sound akin to the shattering of brittle crackers.

The man’s shriek of agony, born from unimaginable torment, pierced the air.

Only then did Zeon relinquish his hold.

“You damn bastard…!”

Having been liberated, the man unleashed a swift kick aimed at Zeon’s head—but before his leg could even connect, a concussive blast erupted from his chest.

Zeon had unleashed a Fire Missile.

Boom!

“Ugh!”

With a strangled gasp, the man crumpled to the ground.

Fiery tendrils immediately enveloped his body.

There was no further cry, no sign of struggle.

He had perished instantly.

The intense flames mercilessly consumed his lifeless form.

It was only then that Deungwi’s impassive expression shifted.

“He possessed a degree of skill. However, you should not have terminated Jensen. He was rather valuable in this establishment.”

So, the man Zeon had just eliminated bore the name Jensen.

In response to Deungwi’s statement, Zeon retorted with disbelief:

“Are you suggesting I should have met my end at Jensen’s hands instead?”

“That outcome would have entailed less suffering.”

“You certainly hold yourself in high regard.”

“I need not even intervene personally. Your demise is assured within these walls today.”

At Deungwi’s subtle gesture, numerous individuals concealed within the building revealed themselves.

Each and every one of them was an awakened being, radiating an intense and palpable bloodlust.

Without a moment’s hesitation, they surged towards Zeon.

As they advanced, the very atmosphere within the structure churned violently, releasing a noxious and pervasive stench.

Zeon wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“As I suspected, you were manufacturing illicit substances here.”

The air was undeniably saturated with the overpowering aroma of drugs.

This served as irrefutable evidence.

Consequently, any pretense of restraint was now unnecessary.

“Fire Missile!”

A multitude of Fire Missiles materialized behind Zeon before hurtling with great force towards the oncoming wave of awakened combatants.

Boom boom boom!

“Gah!”

“Ugh!”

With a simultaneous eruption of explosions and cries, the scene dissolved into chaos. Those of lesser standing among the awakened were flung aside, while the more formidable figures erected defensive barriers against the onslaught. "This scoundrel is a high-level awakened," someone exclaimed. "At least B-rank," another chimed in. The survivors, recognizing Zeon's superior power, nevertheless held their ground, their thoughts occupied by the many allies still within the structure. A shrill siren wailed—WEEOOO—signaling the arrival of awakened from other floors, some dusted with white powder, hinting at illicit activities. "Die!" they roared, met with desperate screams. Boom! Chain reactions of explosions, centered on Zeon, ripped through the air. He had unleashed Fire Burst, its inferno instantly engulfing the charging awakened. Horrified shrieks echoed amidst the infernal blaze. Observing this, Deungwi's brow furrowed. Zeon's strength far surpassed his estimation. His gaze fixed on the bartender, Deungwi demanded, "Just who did you bring here?" "H-he's merely a Pathfinder..." "Does he appear to be a mere Pathfinder? I've never encountered one who wielded fire-type skills." The bartender faltered, unable to provide an answer. Pathfinders, typically tasked with scouting ahead of the main forces, were usually classified as martial types, their prowess lying in formidable physical abilities augmented by detection skills. Yet, Zeon commanded elemental fire. He was unlike any Pathfinder known. "That scoundrel is no Pathfinder," Deungwi declared. "Then what..." "Does it matter?" "What are you saying?" Boom! Another detonation tore through the building, claiming more awakened. The iron door succumbed to the blast, flames leaping outwards. Spectators had already gathered nearby, drawn by the commotion. Silencing Zeon would be a formidable challenge, and eliminating all witnesses was an impossibility. Awakened from the South District were likely en route. Secrecy was no longer an option. Surveying the surroundings, Deungwi muttered, "It's a fine location, but we must abandon it." His gaze finally settled on the bartender beside him, the architect of this unfolding disaster, standing with a vacant stare. Fury ignited within him. Deungwi flicked his hand. Slice! A sharpened gust of wind severed the bartender's neck in an instant, his life extinguished before he could even register pain. "Aaaagh!" "P-please...!" The terrified cries of his subordinates persisted. Deungwi seared Zeon's face into his memory. "I will have my revenge." His memory was impeccable; once he saw a face, it was etched forever. Furthermore, Zeon wielded fire-type skills and, critically, had ingested drugs. While he might be on a rampage now, the inevitable withdrawal would surely lead him back to other addicts. These three factors would undoubtedly facilitate the discovery of his true identity. But Deungwi remained oblivious to the fact that Zeon's face was an illusion, and the drugs coursing through his system could be purged at any moment through the Ring of Purification or Brielle's unique ability. Boom! Yet another Fire Burst erupted. As his subordinates screamed within the inferno, Deungwi turned away without a second thought, proceeding deeper into the building towards a workshop. A middle-aged man, adjusting his spectacles, inquired, "What is all that commotion outside?" "We have an uninvited guest." "That's quite a disturbance for a mere guest." "Consequently, we must evacuate this place." "I comprehend." "We depart in one minute. Pack everything." "Understood." Without hesitation, the man sprang into action, grabbing a nearby backpack and swiftly stowing all the tools and materials from the workshop. The contents, enough to fill a massive transport vehicle, vanished into the subspace-enchanted backpack. In moments, everything was packed. The man exited with Deungwi via a hidden passage, their silent departure melting into the South District's shadows. Shortly thereafter, Zeon emerged from the ravaged building. "Tsk. Did they escape?" He scanned his surroundings, but they had vanished without a trace, leaving no evidence of their departure. Just then, "Over there!" "Seal all exits!" A considerable contingent of awakened descended from the opposite direction—Paoshan and his Punishment Squad, who had successfully tracked their location. Zeon recognized the opportune moment to withdraw. Like Deungwi, he too dissolved into the city's obscurity. --- "To dare perpetrate such an act within the South District." Paoshan's face contorted into a demonic mask as he beheld the burning structure. A significant quantity of drugs was discovered at the entrance, alongside the decapitated bartender, undeniable evidence of drug production or distribution. Paoshan commanded his subordinates, "Extinguish the flames first." "Yes, sir!" A subordinate stepped forward, possessing the rare gift of water-elemental abilities. "Aqua Bomb." Upon activation, a watery explosion erupted within the building, inundating the interior. The rampaging flames were rapidly suppressed. Other awakened then moved in to complete the firefighting effort. The interior of the building presented a gruesome tableau, with numerous half-charred corpses scattered about. Paoshan, bypassing the carnage, ventured deeper inside, stopping at the workshop. Though the drug manufacturer and Deungwi had absconded with their valuables, they hadn't managed to erase every trace. White powder, residue of the drugs, lay scattered across the floor. "So this was the workshop after all." Paoshan clenched his jaw, realizing the operation had yielded no significant gains. Discovering this site had been a matter of sheer chance.Upon witnessing the inferno, he had hurried to the scene—only to find that the disaster had already concluded. He remained ignorant of the identity of the individuals responsible for dispatching these awakened beings, let alone who governed this territory. A profound sense of being manipulated washed over him. "Gather every corpse that possesses an unblemished face," Paoshan commanded. "Identification is paramount." "Understood, Captain!" His subordinates promptly commenced the task of collecting the deceased. Gazing into the obscured void where Zeon had disappeared, Paoshan grumbled, "Regardless of their nature, once apprehended, they shall face my retribution."