I didn’t go back to the Evans estate.
In fact, I never planned to.
The knights were exhausted—wounded in both body and spirit—so I let them return on their own. I handed them a sealed letter to deliver to my father.
In that letter, I wrote that one of our n had died while escorting to the Draken Duchy, and that I, as the Young Master, had ordered full compensation to be given to the fallen knight’s family.
Yes, you heard right—while escorting to the Draken Duchy.
Not a word about going outside of the North.
Not a single ntion of the snowstorms, the beasts, or the lie I told to escape the duchy.
It was a secret. One that couldn’t reach my father.
That’s why I gave strict orders to the Knight-Captain and the rest of the escort team:
Say nothing about the North. Nothing about the deception. Nothing about what really happened.
And if they decided to open their mouths...
Then they’d face the consequences of disobeying an Evans.
That part was left unsaid. But everyone understood.
After parting ways with them, I only took four knights with —including the Knight-Captain Darion. The ones I could trust. The ones who knew how to keep their heads down.
And now?
Right now, I’m riding a damn cal through the burning desert.
The West.
Beautiful from afar, brutal up close.
It had been nearly three hours since we entered the edge of the so-called endless desert, the sun hanging like a torch above our heads. My cloak clung to my back, soaked in sweat. The sand beneath us shifted constantly, like it was trying to swallow us whole.
But finally...
Finally, I could see it.
Faint outlines in the distance. A cracked stone pillar jutting from the sand. The tip of what looked like a ruined archway, half-buried by ti.
That was it.
The path I’d been searching for.
The route to the artifacts.
"Young Master..." Darion’s voice broke the dry silence beside , gravelly and tense.
The sand stretched endlessly in every direction, shimring under the brutal afternoon sun. Darion’s eyes scanned the horizon carefully, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
"This part of the desert is dangerous," he said, narrowing his gaze. "The Sareth Dunes have a bad reputation. Bandits roam freely, and desert wyrms—massive ones—tunnel beneath the sand. You won’t see them coming until it’s too late."
I wiped the sweat from my brow and readjusted the cloth around my face. Sand had found its way into every fold of my clothes, every corner of our equipnt. The wind howled low, carrying both heat and warning.
"Captain," I said with a half-smile, "don’t tell you’re afraid of a few ragged bandits and overgrown lizards."
Darion’s brow twitched at that.
"It’s not just that," he muttered. "These lands... they’re cursed. Old stories say the dead still walk here. The locals don’t even whisper the na of the dunes at night."
I chuckled, even if part of was already regretting this route.
"Co on, Captain. There’s no such thing as walking corpses and ancient curses. That’s just drunk rchant talk to keep kids from wandering too far."
He didn’t laugh.
I glanced at him again. His hand hadn’t left his weapon.
He ant it.
"There’s truth in so old stories, Young Master," Darion said, his voice low. "The last patrol we sent through here a year ago vanished. No bodies. No gear. Just gone. And the caravan that followed after swore they heard voices whispering beneath the sand."
I know what he’s talking about, after all that was one of the challenges that Protagonist’s party face while on the way to get those artifacts and relics.
I know and I wasn’t trying to rember that part, it still gives creep whenever I thought about that Chapter while playing the ga.
But this idiot just mad rember those creepy secen.
I swallowed hard, looking ahead at the sunburnt ridges and the cracked skeleton of a long-dead tree, half-buried in the dunes.
"Keep your n close," I said finally. "And double the watch at sundown."
Darion gave a short nod, his eyes still fixed on the dunes.
---
It’s been few days since we switched the cals and entered the deeper parts of the
Sareth Dunes.
Thanks to my ga knowledge, we managed to avoid bandits groups and desert wyrms.
On the way Darion gave quite suspicious gaze.
Why? Because I was the one guide here and under my guide we were unhard till now.
He was probably suspicious of how I have such knowledge these parts Sareth Dunes.
But I wasn’t going give him an answer he wants.
Anyway, We finally arrived.
The wind had died down, and the desert had gone eerily quiet—as if even nature was holding its breath.
Before us stood the remnants of an ancient structure, half-swallowed by ti and sand. Cracked stone pillars leaned against each other like drunk n, and a broken staircase led down into darkness. You wouldn’t even notice it unless you were looking for it. Which, thankfully, I was.
...And at the sa ti system notification started to appear before .
[The Naless Sovereign’s Rest]
[Long before the rise of the Western Empire, this land was ruled by an ancient people who thrived amidst the unforgiving wilderness.]
[Buried beneath these sands lies their greatest monarch—his na erased by ti, his legacy buried in silence.]
[You have discovered the resting place of the Naless Sovereign. Secrets, trials, and forgotten relics await within.]
[ You have encountered a hidden dungeon — "The Naless Sovereign’s Rest."]
It had been a long ti since I saw one of these familiar system prompts.
That distinct blue-glow ssage, floating lightly in the corner of my vision, was a reminder: this world might look like a romance simulation from the surface... but underneath, it was an RPG through and through.
And true to its nature, dungeons like this were scattered all over the continent.
Each one hid relics, rare items, or elixirs that could enhance your strength—tools for the protagonist’s growth arc.
But this one? The Naless Sovereign’s dungeon wasn’t a turning point for the main story.
It held a solid artifact—useful, but nothing ga-breaking.
Which made it perfect.
Because I wasn’t the protagonist.
I was soone who needed any advantage I could get.
"Young Master—hold up," Darion said, sharply extending his arm in front of .
His eyes narrowed as he scanned the path ahead. "Stay behind . Sothing’s off."
I tugged gently on the reins, bringing the cal to a stop.
That’s when I heard it.
Clank. Clank.
The unmistakable rattle of tal against bone.
From behind a jagged sand dune ahead, they erged—half-buried skeletons wrapped in ancient, torn cloth, wielding rusted weapons that still glead with faint malice.
Undead.
A classic signpost for dungeons like this.
"Ambush!" one of the knights shouted, drawing his sword with a sharp ring.
I didn’t hesitate.
"Destroy them all!" I commanded.
With trained precision, the four knights surged forward, blades flashing in the dying sunlight. Sand scattered under their boots as steel clashed with bone. One skeleton’s arm was severed instantly; another shattered under a hamr blow to the skull.
As chaos erupted ahead, I leaned back slightly in my saddle, watching the fight with a calm exterior.
Honestly, monts like these made appreciate the perks of nobility. One word from , and trained fighters moved without question.
But I hadn’t brought them here to watch them earn glory.
I had a different plan.
While their swords kept the undead busy, I quietly dismounted.
Dusting the sand from my cloak, I circled around the battlefield, eyes scanning for it—the entrance.
A collapsed mound of stone.
A half-circle formation buried under the sand.
There—at the base of the ruin—was the shadow of an archway, just like in the ga.
A hidden stairwell.
This was it.
The entrance to the Naless Sovereign’s Rest.
I crouched low, heart pounding slightly as the sound of battle echoed behind . My boots sank into the sand with every step.
Now or never, I thought.
With one last glance over my shoulder, I slipped into the darkness.
Let them handle the skeletons.
I had a tomb to raid.
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