Chapter Thirteen: The Fin of the Desert

The sail billowed full, and the sand skiff sliced through the waves of sand, speeding across the sea of dunes.

This small sand skiff, no longer than eight or nine meters, was a transportation tool unique to the great desert.

The hull was crafted from lightweight wood, making it extremely nimble. Metal plates were embedded along the gunwales and the bottom, narrow and sharp like blades, allowing it to cut through the sand with minimal resistance and sail at high speeds.

The great desert, especially the core areas of the sand sea, was composed of extraordinarily fine, dry sand. Wheeled vehicles could not traverse it at all, and even those unaccustomed to the desert found it extremely difficult to travel on foot.

For long-distance travel across the great desert, there were only three options.

The first was airships, which were fast and efficient. Their only drawback was the exorbitant cost, making them a choice only for wealthy travelers and merchants transporting precious goods.

The second was caravans composed of herbivorous dragons and camels, capable of carrying large amounts of cargo at relatively low cost. Their disadvantages were slow speed and the risk of monster attacks, but they remained the mainstream means of commercial transport.

The third option was the sand skiff. Large sand skiffs were difficult to build and rare, generally not used by civilians.

Medium-sized skiffs were extremely bumpy and limited in their operating areas, able to sail only where the sand was finest and the wind strongest—usually serving as fishing vessels for sandfish.

Small sand skiffs suffered even more from jolts, making them hard for ordinary people to endure. They had very limited load capacity and complex controls requiring experienced pilots to constantly adjust the sails and rudder.

Yet, they were the favorite and most common mode of transport among desert hunters.

A journey of dozens or even hundreds of kilometers could be covered in a day; by foot, it might take a whole week.

The three companions—Oran and his two brothers—were currently aboard such a sand skiff.

To save money and free up space for supplies and ammunition, as well as to transport valuable materials on the return trip, they had chosen to pilot the skiff themselves rather than hire a professional skipper.

“Our piloting skills are pretty great, right?” Asa, the heavy crossbowman with a big mouth, was at the helm, laughing heartily as he adjusted the sail.

“Y-yeah,” Oran replied half-heartedly, but inwardly he had to admit that the brothers’ piloting skills were indeed outstanding—professional, even.

He himself could pilot a sand skiff, a skill taught by Teacher Haifa, but only just enough to keep the vessel moving steadily; making sharp turns would cause it to stall. Compared to them, he was nowhere near their level.

“Our father was a fisherman on the fleet of fishing vessels,” Nuri said with a smile, sitting toward the rear of the boat to balance the weight and avoid pressing down on the bow.

“Driving sand skiffs and throwing harpoons—these are family traditions. Though this kind of heritage isn’t worth much money, haha.”

“It’s not worthless; it’s very practical in the sand sea,” Oran said earnestly.

Nuri helped his younger brother adjust the sail ropes. “When we were kids, neither of us thought about becoming hunters.

But one year during the harvest festival, we watched the fishing fleet return fully loaded with sandfish, and the hunters aboard looked so impressive. From that moment, the idea took hold.”

Asa laughed heartily and added, “We ran home and told Mom and Dad. Mom was firmly opposed, saying being a hunter was too dangerous.

Dad wasn’t against it. He said he had originally planned for us to inherit his profession and join the fishing fleet, but being a sandfish fisherman didn’t seem any safer than being a hunter, so he agreed to let us try.

We didn’t expect both of us to pass the selection and enter the training camp. Mom scolded Dad for years over that.”

“Ah, by the way, I haven’t asked you, Oran. Why did you want to become a hunter?” Nuri asked.

Oran adjusted the brim of his hat. “I’m not originally from Lockrock City. I’m from a nearby oasis, a nomad.

Our settlement was attacked by monsters when I was young. Family and friends didn’t survive. I was saved and taken in by my teacher.

As for why I became a hunter, it’s mainly because I admired my teacher. Of course, part of it was for revenge—to give the fallen a reckoning.”

A hush fell over the sand skiff. The thorn bush who had been curled up at the bow lifted his head to glance at him, while Nuri nudged his brother with his foot.

Asa, snapping out of his thoughts, stammered, “S-sorry... I didn’t mean to dig up old wounds...”

“It’s fine,” Oran’s expression remained unchanged. “I’ve moved on long ago. Such things aren’t uncommon, nothing to hide.”

The atmosphere aboard the sand skiff grew somewhat heavy. After a moment, Nuri spoke again.

“Actually, I’ve met a few people in the training camp with similar experiences to yours.

But you guys don’t give off the same vibe.”

“Yeah,” Asa lowered his voice considerably. “Those guys all seemed full of anger and didn’t interact much with others. They just trained relentlessly.

The instructors often told us to reach out to them, make friends, and warned that if revenge was the sole purpose of becoming a hunter, it would eventually destroy both themselves and their teammates or lead them down a dark path.

Oran, you don’t give off that impression. You always seem calmer and more rational than any of us.”

“Maybe it’s because I had a good teacher,” Oran replied thoughtfully.

...

The mission area wasn’t far from Lockrock. Traveling by sand skiff took just over two hours before they arrived at a camp near the mission zone.

Several hunters were already waiting inside the camp when they arrived.

As the eldest and the highest-ranked hunter of the three, Nuri naturally became the team leader and took on the responsibility of external communication.

He stepped forward. “We’re from the fortress guerrilla squad. Sorry for our late arrival.”

Oran’s eyes, shaded by his low-hanging hat, quietly appraised the hunters.

They were a three-person team, configured just like theirs: two swordsmen and one archer.

The leader was a dual-blade wielder, armed with the “White Swift Dragon Ice Claws,” crafted from White Swift Dragon King materials and repeatedly enhanced to become an excellent pair of blades with powerful ice attribute energy.

Since Oran’s teacher was also a dual-blade user, he understood this weapon deeply. The other two weapons he couldn’t identify precisely.

Behind the hammer wielder was a massive earth dragon-material hammer, and the light crossbow used by the archer was unfamiliar to Oran—but Asa, also an archer, recognized it.

He leaned over and whispered to Oran, “That’s the Snow Lion’s Tail, a light crossbow made from Snow Lion materials, capable of rapid-fire ice-freezing bolts.”

Each weapon had its own characteristics but mostly emphasized ice attribute attacks. Their armor was uniformly from the “Sand Dragon S” series.

Just by the name, it was clear this was armor crafted primarily from Sand Dragon King materials—no ordinary Sand Dragon set, but the cream of the crop, assembled from a wealth of high-quality materials.

In terms of defense, it was comparable to high-tier armor like the Fire Dragon set.

Additionally, the three had graying hair and somewhat aged faces, and the name of their hunting party sprang to Oran’s mind—

“The Desert Fin.”

He had heard of this hunting party before, though they did not have the best reputation.

Since thirty years ago, this party had been active in the great desert and surrounding areas—from the northern Rexara to the southern Tangia Port, they could be seen.

Their reputation wasn’t poor because of wrongdoing, but because they hunted only one kind of monster—the Sand Dragon King.

Some opportunists had tallied their kills, and the number of Sand Dragon Kings slain by them was believed to exceed a hundred, with normal Sand Dragons possibly over a thousand—true “Sand Dragon slayers.”

Some believed these hunters had been pursuing Sand Dragon Kings for decades, and now approaching retirement age, yet still hunting them, stuck in their comfort zone with no ambition.

Of course, this was just the opinion of some hunters. The guild actually admired them greatly.

They caused no trouble, didn’t act recklessly, focused solely on one monster and became experts. When the Sand Dragon problem needed solving, calling on them guaranteed it would be handled properly—how great was that?

While Oran and Asa were quietly observing, Nuri had already finished communicating.

“We’ll start some arrangements and mark the Sand Dragon Kings with dye balls. When you hunt them, pay attention to the scent of the dye balls. If you detect a Sand Dragon King approaching, retreat immediately.”

With that, the three veteran hunters prepared to leave the camp.

As they passed by Oran’s group, the dual-blade leader glanced at Oran’s unusually youthful face and added, “Like Sand Dragons, the Sand Dragon King’s weak points are on the neck, belly, and back. You can use noise to blast them out from the sand.

They’re not good at walking—focus attacks on their legs to knock them down, neutralizing the threat.”

Oran was momentarily stunned. By the time he recovered, the three had reached the camp’s gate. He hastily called out,

“Thank you for the advice!”

The veteran hunters did not stop, only waving their hands in response as they departed.