Midas slowly climbed over the burst-open wooden door. The frame of the sturdy wooden gate was long crumbled and now reduced to clay rubble, which was swallowed by an ever-growing amount of sand as masses of it flew up into the air at the raging storm. The sky above his head was completely darkened by greyish-yellow clouds and mist—brewing thunder roared from it occasionally, briefly lighting up the mass.
Slowly looking through the eerily quiet inside of the fort, a shiver ran down Midas's spine—the same gated windows riddled the ground that separated the walls and the main central building, belonging to the damp underground cages he too was once stuck in only briefly after he had woken up in this world. Trying to forget about Alma, Midas wandered through the sand-swept field; the usually flat grounds were riddled with sand mounds as if the desert were currently reclaiming the man-made structure.
Approaching the central building, seeing one half of it had already crumbled away due to the effect of time after it had been ravaged by the northern army, Midas looked up into the many dark window-shaped holes formed into the clay wall, his eyes widening instantly at the sight of a dim light flickering from inside. The door to the building was missing from its frame, seemingly blown off long ago; the rooms that were usually filled with chatting guards were completely empty, unlit torches and left-behind armor riddled the room amongst a thin layer of sand.
Heading towards the stairs, Midas felt a foreign pressure lightly press against his chin as he walked the first step of the stairs. Startled by a sudden jingle that toned from the higher floors, he quickly took a step back as he drew his sickle and raised his right hand. The youth readied himself to fight against whoever had set up the alarm.
After a moment of silence, the youth continued to stare up at the set of stairs—unsure whether there was still someone remaining, the royalty would've surely awaited him to come—so he hoped for it. Easing himself, Midas dropped his guard; wandering alone through the desert had made him much more cautious than he already was before. His heart, however, almost stilled completely as he suddenly felt a foreign hand on his shoulder—a blade was almost instantly laid onto his throat from behind.
"Your name...?"
"Midas."
The youth managed to murmur dimly, his hands raised as he felt a blade rest against his throat—so close to his skin that even simply swallowing could potentially result in being cut. He knew the voice that sounded from the mask, hearing the person behind him hum amusedly as he released his blade but kept his hand on the youth's shoulder. Slowly guiding him to follow, the royalty slowly walked up the stairs.
"You came... Impressive. Hopefully by your own...?"
Midas simply nodded, his eyes following the thin string that wrapped around the wooden railing and eventually slithered between the wooden beams holding up the floor above them—connected to a stack of hanging shells, which most likely trembled as the motion of Midas's foot was transported towards them. The torches that were unlit now sparsely lit up the higher floor; riddled crates and vases of water were stored on the first floor. Heading to the second, the youth glanced at the bronze mask of the royal figure; his white silk robe was dusty from the time he had spent here.
Halting on the fourth floor, the royalty silently guided Midas into one of the rooms that usually accommodated the commander of the fort, a left-behind office—having been foraged through long ago by the water kingdom troops. Next to a flipped-over table and messy bookshelves that gathered grains of dust and sand sat none other than Jihid, the old man Midas hadn't seen until he was forced to leave the fort behind.
"Good... he's here now. Get me out of here now...!"
Coughing dryly, the old man yelled weakly at the royalty. His thin hand pointed at Midas, then up at him—his beard untended and white, only slowly moving his body as he struggled to get onto his feet, eventually stopping his effort to get off the chair. Midas was able to hear the royalty sigh as he sat on a nearby rug, a clay cup steaming on it—filled with tea.
"You survived..."
It felt relieving to know the man that had thought about him, Mana, was still breathing—even though much more shallow, gently holding his hand. Midas's expression returned to being worried again as he saw the state of the old man. The last day and a half Trestempo Midas had spent getting here didn't seem to have been easy for the two of them. Silently exchanging a glance, the old man's rumbling eventually stopped—his grasp tightening softly before he retrieved his hand to the old wool blanket on his lap.
"Midas, I was called a fool for laying my trust into an imprisoned child... but here you are, possessing an amount of mana much higher than the last time I saw you. Sit down; you seem exhausted."
Seeing the brewing carpet of clouds from the outside, Midas reluctantly sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea, his head sunken as he looked down onto the dusty pattern of the carpet they sat on. Drinking from it, he felt a calming warmth spread through his torso; the liquid was silky, and the dim taste of herbs lingered on his tongue much longer than any other brew he had drunk in the northern fort.
"I'm sorry that this will most likely be the last time you and Jikith will ever see each other. He is simply too old now—his mind is clouded, and he frequently hallucinates, barely even able to speak or understand others properly. After I make sure you go to the temple in a healthy enough state, I will head back to the rock kingdom capital—these lands are simply too dangerous, and without the old man, I'm much more flexible if something does happen on my way there..."
"I understand..."
Midas swallowed down the harsh reality that Jikith didn't get to leave the temple—fidgeting silently with the loose fibers of the carpet, the youth silently pushed down the sorrow he felt for the old man, having served the army all his life just to be left behind like this on his own. The royalty silently placed a dish of dried meat in front of Midas, trying to distract him from the obvious thoughts he had.
"Jikith has a son in the capital—a broad man that forges blades for our men in the army. His child will be born in this Trestempo, and I will attend the fest they will hold to celebrate. This is the only thing I can do for him—this place is at least much quieter than the unsafe center of the desert... here he will rest in peace, with a great view, and hopefully that view will become much clearer once you take care of the storm."
"It's nice to know he at least left something behind."
Having said so, Midas began to eat—not only for the sake of surviving whatever was residing in the temple, but also for the two men in front of him as well as the countless people who left their lives—not fit for the rune that Midas now held. Having finished the plate, he clenched the two glass vials that contained the pieces of shimmering gold—if Ajan was right, they would lead him through the sandstorm surrounding the temple.
"...You said my mana was now much greater than the last time you saw me. How were you able to see that...?"
"You don't see... you feel it."
Surprised by the faint murmur of Jikith, Midas's eyes widened—the fact the man spoke a proper sentence despite his age even surprised the royalty. Pouring himself another cup of tea, he got up and looked through the window—the central building was tall enough to allow them to look past the walls of the fort, and in the distance was a pillar of spiraling dust and sand.
"He's right. Mana is an invisible force to many—like a sixth sense... A shiver that runs down your spine, the feeling someone important is in the same room as you, or the thought of someone currently staring at you from afar. That is the feeling of mana—or rather someone with a great amount of it."
"Close your eyes..."
Vaguely raising his hand out to Midas from his lap, the youth looked up at Jikith as he spoke in a faint tone—sitting in front of him, the royalty watched as Jikith readied himself to speak another sentence, using the little bit of energy his body could bring up.
"Focus mana onto your eyeballs... see through your lids..."
Midas sterned his brows with closed lids, making sure they were pressed shut—the youth focused on establishing a mana flow through his body; redirecting it into his head was something the youth wasn't used to. Usually he would direct his mana to his limbs, like his right hand, to use the mana stone slotted into his rune, but now he had to make sure it would pile up in his eyes. Feeling a sense of dryness in his eyes slowly arise from the pent-up mana, the youth was able to make out a dimly visible humanoid form through the thin skin of his eyelids.
An invisible shimmer formed the silhouette of a seated Jikith. Midas did his best to maintain focus—able to tell that he was able to see its shape; however, after trying to make more out of it, the shape quickly faded into the darkness again. Trying again—the youth waited until he saw the colorless shape of the old man again; slowly moving his head, Midas was now also able to feel the royalty standing next to him.
Laughing as he watched the youth snap his eyes open, he grinned proudly—he had made a good choice on betting on the youth's affinity with mana, having learned a null ability in such a short time without much help. Eventually bringing forth a package of dried meat and a leather sack filled with water, the royalty watched Midas stuff the objects into his bag, nodding gratefully.
"I am excited to see who you will be once our paths cross again... you have potential—I'm sure you will take care of this storm without much trouble.
"Thank you for everything. I will try my best..."
Shaking his hand, Midas bowed down in front of the royalty one last time, remembering the correct stance taught to him by the royalty on their visit to Gip'din. The knuckles of his right hand were on the floor before eventually getting up, nodding appreciatively at Jikith one last time. Simply watching the youth as he eventually disappeared, the royalty looked out of the window towards the storm, slowly moving the chair Jikith sat on to face the window before gathering the goods he would need.
Taking a long breather, Midas steadied himself—he had no time to think over his choices or feel uncertain; the gold flasks combined with the crude Null Ability he now had access to would most likely be enough to see through the thick sandstorm engulfing what was left of the temple in its center. Feeling his feet sink into the sand grains, the youth started to make his way towards his destination, sand flaring up from the ground to graze his ankles.
Clutching his hands, the youth was forced to pinch his eyes together—his left hand blocking any blasting bits of sand from slipping through his lashes. Firmly holding onto the rope that was tied around the glass flasks, Midas watched as they dangled in the breezing winds of the storm—their glow directly pointed forward. Not able to see much, as the youth's vision was already limited by the storm's winds, he was eventually swallowed and surrounded by the dark yellowish-tinted gust that swirled around the center of the storm.
Being directed to steer to his left, Midas pushed forward—the spare leather clothing fluttered around on his body, and the loose bandage that shielded his skin from being too irritated by the sun quickly loosened its grip. His feet sank into the sand, and his body leaned forward to resist the ever-growing force of the winds that swept against him—if it weren't for the gold in the vials, he most likely would've never reached the center, at least if the gold really guided him correctly.
Now that Midas thought about it, the sun's rays were blocked out by the sandstorm—yet, for some reason, the gold continued to shine. It was now evident that it wasn't reflecting the light of another object but glistening on its own—the fact that metal was able to radiate light had to be abnormal, hopefully indicating that it belonged to whatever force resided in the temple—as it must also be abnormal to create such a great storm.
Having wrapped the pirate's cloth to shield his face, Midas was able to feel burning itching on his exposed neck and shoulders—the speeds of the sand didn't seem to get any slower as the storm grew thicker. The vials of gold dangled wildly in the air as the youth held them up in front of his eyes—he had now been walking straight for what felt like an eternity, unsure if the sun had already set by now or not. Feeling like he might be swept up like one of the many grains of sand surrounding him, the youth desperately pushed further.
The howling and screaming of the air that pressed against his head's sides and ears suddenly halted, feeling much lighter suddenly—Midas almost tripped as the force that had been pushing against him had suddenly left. Slowly opening his eyes, he stared at a ruin that seemed to have been built at the same time as the many shafts he had seen during his travels. Dropping his arms, the youth was awed at the pillars that held up the massive roof—tiled pathways split from every direction of the left-behind building, sitting perfectly in a circular clearing.
Midas now realized it, dropping onto his knees as he caught his breath—in front of him was the eye of the storm, and he managed to get inside of it. Almost able to grin at the fact he made it, the youth managed to feel a foreign pull from the vials that were bound to his finger—swinging forward despite the fact the center of the storm had no air flowing through it whatsoever. Eventually realizing they were pulling him towards the pyramid-shaped temple, he quickly got up to make his way towards an unlit temple.
Passing by two grand statues of the same sword-wielding man, Midas was able to tell that this was most likely the site in which the golden knight was buried inside of. Even though the building seemed much more ancient than 403 Trestempos, the youth was sure that this was the temple Ajan mentioned. Glancing into the broad open entrance, Midas wasn't able to make out much from the darkness inside, eventually forcing himself to make his way into the temple to finally find out what is behind the storm.