Realm Lord
Chapter 70: In The Distance

Chapter 70: In The Distance

Days trickled on and on, blurring together in an endless cycle of survival. They slept when their bodies demanded it, ate the last morsels of their provisions until there was nothing left, walked until their legs threatened to give out beneath them, and talked to keep the crushing silence at bay. The wasteland stretched before them, unending and unforgiving—a vast sea of cracked stone and dust that seemed determined to swallow them whole.

No monsters showed their faces in this desolate realm. It was as if even the creatures had deemed this place too barren, too hopeless to inhabit.

Their injuries were healing accordingly, the supernatural resilience of the Chosen gradually knitting torn flesh and mending damaged muscle. Arthur’s limp had become less pronounced, though the wound on his thigh still pulled uncomfortably with each step. Aziel’s collection of scrapes and bruises had faded to yellowing marks against his sun-darkened skin, the last visible reminder of their ordeal in the rose field.

It had been just over a week since they left that rose prison behind. Seven days of watching the horizon, searching for any sign of change. Seven nights of restless sleep on unyielding stone. The passage of time was marked only by the rising and setting of the sun, which seemed to grow more merciless with each passing day.

They ran out of food and water a couple of days ago. The last drops of water had been carefully rationed, lingering on their tongues for as long as possible before the inevitable swallow.

They’d be able to survive for a while longer, their Chosen status granting them resilience beyond that of ordinary humans. Their bodies could extract moisture from the very air, metabolize energy more efficiently, and resist the ravages of hunger and thirst that would have already claimed normal travelers. But even these extraordinary abilities had their limits, and as each day passed without sustenance, their hope began to dwindle like a candle burning down to its final wick.

Arthur had started training again yesterday, his determination outweighing the persistent discomfort. His wounds were not completely healed yet, but they were getting there, the angry red giving way to the pink of new scar tissue. He had decided to train at night, when he could use the darkness to relieve his pain—drawing on the mysterious properties of shadow that seemed uniquely attuned to his abilities.

Aziel was still walking him through the absolute basics, his patience a surprising contrast to his usual demeanor. "Keep your stance lower," he would mutter, correcting Arthur’s form with gentle but firm adjustments. "Your balance is everything. Without it, you’re just a target waiting to be hit." The lessons were rudimentary, but Arthur absorbed them with the desperate focus of someone who knew their survival might depend on these very skills.

It was prime daytime right now, the sun hanging high and merciless in a cloudless sky. The heat pressed down on them unforgivingly, shimmering in waves above the baked ground. Their shadows pooled beneath them, offering no relief from the scorching rays that seemed to penetrate to their very cores. They were trudging on through the scorching heat with dry lips and grumbling stomachs that had long since passed the point of pain and settled into a dull, persistent ache.

Even so, they did not bother complaining. What good would words do against the vastness of their predicament? Instead, when they talked, they spoke as if it was still a sure thing they would survive. They discussed what foods they would eat when they returned home, the soft beds they would sleep in. Their voices were rough from thirst, but the stories they spun kept them moving forward, one painful step after another.

Even though deep down, they both knew that possibility was getting smaller and smaller by the day. The wasteland showed no signs of ending, no hint of relief on the horizon. Just more cracked earth, more blistering heat, more suffering.

Aziel walked lazily with his arms limp by his sides and his head angled to the sky, as if challenging the sun itself to a staring contest. His normally vibrant hair hung lank and dull against his scalp, streaked with dust and sweat. His lips were cracked, tiny lines of dried blood marking the fissures where the skin had split from dehydration.

Arthur dragged himself forward by his side, each step a deliberate act of will. His barely open eyes were pointed to the distance, narrowed against the glare and the ever-present dust that seemed to find its way into every crevice. The monotony of their surroundings had become almost hypnotic—the same view for days on end had numbed his senses to the point where changes might go unnoticed.

But suddenly, his oh-so-familiar view changed. A disruption in the flat line of the horizon caught his attention, so subtle that at first, he thought he was hallucinating. This could be just another cruel trick of the light, another false hope born of desperation.

After rubbing his eyes and squinting, focusing every ounce of his remaining energy into his vision, he was sure of it... he saw something in the distance. Something real. Something different.

Aziel noticed him looking at something and followed his eyesight before landing on what Arthur was seeing. The change in his companion’s posture was immediate—the slouch of exhaustion replaced by the rigidity of attention. They both stopped and looked, the moment stretching between them like a thread pulled taut.

"What is it?" Aziel asked, trying to focus his eyes, the first genuine curiosity in his voice in days.

"I don’t know," Arthur replied, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might cause the distant object to disappear.

In the far distance, almost too far to be seen with any clarity, was a dark blotch in the terrain sticking far upwards to a point. It broke the relentless flatness of the wasteland like a defiant finger pointed toward the sky. It looked eerily like some sort of building or maybe a large natural landmass—impossible to tell from this distance, but undeniably there.

Aziel gulped, his throat working visibly against the dryness. "Well, to be honest, I don’t really care what it is, but anything is better than nothing, so let’s hurry..." His voice took on a dreamy quality as he added, "Maybe there’s food."

Aziel let a huge smile wrap around his face, the first genuine expression of joy either of them had displayed in days. The sight was almost jarring—a reminder of the person who existed beneath the layer of grime and exhaustion. He started to once again walk forward, but unlike before, now with some serious haste, his steps energized by purpose.

Arthur lingered for a little longer, looking at whatever lay in the distance. A bad feeling he couldn’t explain washed over him, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Something about the silhouette seemed wrong somehow. The incongruity of it set off warnings in some primal part of his brain.

"You coming?" Aziel stopped up ahead, noticing Arthur was still standing there, rooted to the spot by his unease.

Arthur shook the worries out of his head. ’Not like we have much of a choice,’ he thought, the bitter truth of their situation overriding his instinctive caution. With one last glance at the distant shape, he began to follow Aziel, pushing his suspicions aside in favor of the slim hope of salvation.

They walked and walked with slightly renewed vigor at the thought of finding food, water, somewhere to sleep... anything. The prospect of relief, however uncertain, was enough to fuel their exhausted bodies beyond what should have been possible. They walked much faster than any of the days prior, despite their dehydration, hunger, or wounds. They pushed on, the mysterious silhouette growing incrementally larger with each passing hour, tantalizing them with its promise of... something. Anything other than the endless stone desert would be a mercy now.

Eventually, night fell, the temperature dropping with surprising swiftness as it always did in this strange realm. The stars emerged, brilliant and cold in the vast expanse of darkness above them. They had made it closer to the thing in the distance, but it remained frustratingly indistinct—a shadow against shadows.

Arthur used this opportunity to use the darkness to increase his eyesight. The night responded to his call, lending its power to his senses, sharpening his vision beyond normal human capability. He squinted, looking deep into the terrain ahead, straining to discern details that the distance sought to hide.

Aziel stood next to him, unusually still, awaiting hopefully good news. The moonlight cast his features in silver, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the desperate hope in his eyes.

Suddenly, Arthur’s eyes went wide, and he recoiled his head back as if struck by an invisible force. The movement was so abrupt, so unexpected, that Aziel took a half-step away in alarm.

"What? What is it?" Aziel’s voice was urgent, anxiety threading through each word.

Arthur gulped excitedly before looking slowly to Aziel, his expression a mixture of disbelief, relief, and something else...

"I—it—it’s a castle,"