Chapter 443 – Waiting

“The desert, so vast; the sky, so bright; the wind caresses this handsome one’s dashing locks, the sunlight kisses this handsome one’s cheeks. Oh, what an enchanting youth I am, no wonder so many maidens willingly offer me flowers…”

With his Lance planted in the sand, Kane stood in the shadow of a rock, striking a pose like a third-rate bard while composing bizarre verses. Though the poem was riddled with grammatical errors and inappropriate word choices, Kane seemed completely oblivious as he recited it with intoxicated fervor.

“So? Absolutely stunned by this handsome one’s talent, aren’t you? Bet you never expected I could compose poetry too. By the way, my poems are quite famous in the Mickeynaia Kingdom (where Kane served as Kingdom Protector). No one ever dares compete against me for first place in any tier of the ‘Great Poet’ elections.”

After proudly boasting, Kane leaning on his gleaming Lance struck another narcissistic pose, apparently imitating some famous sculptor’s “Handsome Man” artwork from the Faerûn Plane. However, his imitation was as awkward and incongruous as his clumsy lyrical poetry.

Punk, who had been silently watching a distant Oasis the entire time, finally couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation and speak up:

“Alright, can’t you just be quiet for once? Don’t you realize your lyrical poetry is even more tacky than that Lance of yours?”

Having traveled together this far, Punk had come to realize that Kane’s chattiness and narcissism weren’t an act – he was genuinely talkative and self-obsessed, and completely unapologetic about it. Even with an intense battle imminent, this guy simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I strongly suspect you got first place by threatening the judges. After all, with such terrible lyrical poetry… perhaps only holding a Lance to an examiner’s throat could force them to give you that undeserved first place.”

“Ora ora ora, sometimes those art-illiterate fools need a little intimidation with force to make them see the light…”

Well, it seemed Punk had hit the nail on the head – Kane’s first place in lyrical poetry really had been obtained through his Lance.

But having been exposed, Kane didn’t bother dwelling on the topic. Peering at the distant Oasis, the eccentric knight’s gaze toward Punk now carried a hint of suspicion and wariness.

Picking up his Lance again, Kane stroked the shaft as if caressing something precious while speaking to Punk in a suddenly serious, quiet tone:

“Let’s set aside the matter of my lyrical poetry for now… I’ll say this – by my count we’ve been waiting here a full day already? Right now I’m super~ suspicious about this… just what exactly are you waiting for?”

Deftly twirling his Lance with a flourish, Kane narrowed his eyes to peer at the distant Oasis again. Clearly, the knight had grown quite impatient with waiting. Or perhaps… he was no longer bothering to conceal his suspicions about Punk’s “waiting”:”My old friend, didn’t you tell me that Sorsend’s trap was fully prepared and ready to be activated at any moment? Then it shouldn’t matter when we attack. Why must we wait here for a full day? This is truly peculiar. Wouldn’t it be troublesome if we’re discovered?”

“I’ve already said – we’re waiting for a valuable ally!”

Despite Kane’s vigilant gaze, Punk’s tone remained utterly devoid of emotion.

“If you don’t want to wait… you’re welcome to charge in and fight Sorsend alone. My Divination Spell confirms the Nightmare Cult’s hideout lies beneath that oasis. As a valiant knight, you could rush over and pierce a hole through the ground right now. Do you think I’d stop you?”

After this pointed retort to Kane’s question, Punk fell silent again, continuing to employ various Divination Spells. Though Kane was growing suspicious, Punk remained unconcerned. Whether this cunning knight had detected his “using others to eliminate rivals” plan mattered little – when battle commenced, there would be no time for diplomatic discussions to determine friend from foe.

Seeing Punk’s dismissive response, clear anger flashed in Kane’s eyes. He now felt certain the mage was planning to play both sides. Yet as Punk had sarcastically noted, he lacked the capability to storm the oasis and confront Sorsend alone. Regardless of Punk’s schemes, Kane could only bide his time for now.

Pursing his lips in silence, Kane eventually thrust his Lance back into the soft desert sand and resumed composing his awkward lyrical poetry. This time, however, his verses carried distinct undertones of sarcastic mockery:

“Oh, behold what the great poet sees – a beetle digging upon the dune, Does it await its prey? Or fortifies its newfound home? That shaded, leeward slope seems cool indeed, Yet offers neither safety nor strength, Alas, poor beetle shall be buried whole, How foolish and deserving of its fate!”

Regardless of whether Kane’s clumsy poetry continued, time flowed inexorably onward.

The desert daytime made time’s passage difficult to perceive, for from dawn onward, the radiance of Mila and Chikasa baked the sands with midday intensity.

But when evening fell, as the scorching sunlight vanished below the horizon, the rapidly dropping temperature quickly reminded all desert creatures of the approaching cold. When complete darkness arrived, winds as frigid as those sweeping the Hoth Mountains’ snowy peaks would engulf every dune and oasis. At such hours, the desert became a dark and silent realm where not even the most thickly-plumed migratory birds dared take flight.

Yet… dragons naturally feared not such trivial chill.Sensing the increasingly distinct “Soul Mark,” a cold smirk gradually curled at the corner of Punk’s lips. Clearly, an old nemesis he knew all too well was rapidly approaching the stronghold of the Nightmare Cult. A foreseeable chaotic battle was about to unfold, and the chase that had originated in the Hoth Mountains was finally coming to an end.

“Ovakain Acidmaw”!

Subtly tilting his head to glance at the horizon, Punk could only make out faint clouds in the dark sky due to the immense distance. Even with his keen eyesight, the view was obscured. But he knew that soon, these serene white clouds would be torn to shreds by the roar of a dragon, and the moment he had been waiting for would swiftly arrive.

“Alright, Kane, no need to wait any longer. Let’s set off”!

After estimating the black dragon’s flight speed and arrival time, Punk paused briefly before beginning to prepare defensive spells for himself while reminding Kane, who was idly carving stones. Of course, the reality was not that they “no longer needed to wait,” as Punk had claimed—it was that they “had already waited long enough”!

(End of Chapter)