"Swordsman, Archer, I need you to clear your minds," Master admonished as they prepared to begin the session.

Confused, Mica looked at his friend, but she immediately looked away in the most childish and shameless way.

He didn't understand why she was upset.

Back in the classroom, they'd been talking normally about his book and how eager they were to begin the second session. It wasn't until the walk over, after he'd mentioned his chance encounter with that girl Rose, that Cat started acting annoyed and stopped speaking to him.

"Women," Hugo had said after Mica asked what was wrong and Cat didn't answer.

Naturally, that only made things worse.

"Archer." Master was losing patience. "I need you focused for today's session."

"Yes, Master. I'm sorry."

Cat took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and assumed the meditation posture Master had asked of her.

In an instant, Mica stopped being Mica, and the room became a vast desert.

------------------------------------------------------------------

There was nothing around them but sand and open sky.

Though Swordsman had no idea how long they'd been traveling, he already felt overwhelmed. Especially by the intense heat.

"I can't take this anymore. When are we going to get there?"

Dragoon took off his helmet, revealing his curly hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"Perhaps in... hmm..." Old Elliot thought for a moment as he guided the small, battered wagon. "... Six days."

"Six days!?"

Everyone exclaimed in unison.

Everyone except Master.

"And that's if we don't run into a bandit camp that forces us to take a detour."

"But we don't have any food or water!"

Cat pointed out, alarmed.

"Or even a roof!" Dragoon added. "Why are we traveling through this blazing desert in a roofless wagon? Two more minutes in this heat and I'm going to pass out!"

"Cleric."

Master signaled to the chubby companion in the immaculate white-and-light-blue robe with a slight tilt of her head.

"Don't worry. We'll make better time. We stopped here specifically to warn you about the bandits."

While Master explained, Cleric walked over to Dragoon. With a gesture of both hands, he released a gust of icy air that even Swordsman and Archer, sitting beside him, could feel.

"Wow! I feel brand new."

Even the sweat had dried from his face.

Cleric nodded politely and returned to his place.

"We're in the Alfíteres Desert. There are no large cities here anymore. At least, not anymore. The people we'll come across fall into two groups: refugees fleeing the war in Milclada, and bandits looking to prey on them."

"Milclada is still at war?" Rogue asked.

Swordsman could've sworn it was the first time he'd heard Rogue speak. His voice was much higher than his sour expression suggested.

"Milclada is always at war, young adventurer." Elliot pointed.

"Yes, but..."

"No, Rogue. Our

work

didn't end the war. That was to be expected. Milclada has been fighting for centuries." Master said.

"You know what they say." Cleric sounded as though he were quoting someone. "Topple one king, and the next will only take the throne with even greater resolve... and even greater distrust."

"...Do they really say that?" Dragoon questioned.

Archer had to hold back a laugh.

"At least they always do where I come from." Old Elliot smiled. "I didn't know I had another one of my own riding with me. Had I known, perhaps I'd have sung a little more."

"And where do you come from?"

"Milclada."

"...Right."

"Anyways." Master said, trying to steer the conversation back. "We could run into bandits at any moment. Our destination is Shum'Ará, one of the first villages to grow into a town. Its leader, Arman'Ará, has hired us to search for his son, whom he believes was captured by one of the largest bandit gangs."

"So we're going to the town to gather information?" Archer asked.

"That's right. For that, and to resupply. As you can see, all we have is what we're wearing."

"So we still have another six days before we reach Shum'Ará?" Swordsman asked, concerned.

"Yes. At least in theory. Now that you're ready and informed, we can move on."

Master raised her arms to the sky.

Her cloak turned a deep purple, its sleeves adorned with gold and silver trim.

Around her, distorted images of clocks of every kind began to drift in and out of existence. A handful of dice rolled across the invisible surface of their minds. Though they couldn't see the results, they didn't need to to know something had happened.

The blazing sun beating down on them raced across the sky until it disappeared beyond the western horizon. The moon replaced it within seconds, only for the sun to appear again a moment later.

Around them, the sand dunes sped by at a dizzying pace.

Then, all at once, before Swordsman could count how many cycles had passed, everything came to a stop.

Three dozen bandits surrounded them, brandishing weapons of every shape and kind.

"May the Great Three-Armed God protect us! Where did they come from!?" Elliot shouted, giving voice to the thoughts of every adventurer.

Every one of them... except Master.

She stepped down from the wagon as her cloak was replaced by silver armor and a greatsword materialized in her right hand, held horizontally at her side.

"I told you there'd be bandits."

Without a moment's hesitation, Swordsman and the others drew their weapons and charged.

The sound of the dice blended with the clash of steel. It mingled with cries of pain and the shouted orders of bandits barking commands to their underlings.

For the first time, Swordsman saw the other two boys in action.

Cleric's advance as he battered his enemies with his hammer was intimidating, but the way Rogue seemed to move through the shadows, appearing behind each of his targets before slitting their throats, was terrifying.

The battle lasted three or four minutes.

Nearly forty bandits were brought down in three or four minutes.

Swordsman was impressed. For every enemy he defeated, Rogue took down three, and Master dealt with five. The difference was overwhelming.

"All right, let's move on," Master said just as she struck down the last enemy.

"Aren't we going to search the bodies?" Archer asked. "You said yourself we need supplies."

Dragoon and Swordsman turned to look at her, dumbfounded.

"You won't find anything of value here."

Master said, just to Cleric give the explanation by himself:

"Enemies carry items worth about as much as they are strong. And if we defeated them that quickly, imagine how valuable their belongings are."

"What about gold? Won't we need gold to buy things in town?"

"I don't know if people where you come from still use something as basic as gold for trade, Archer. But in these lands, we use Lux."

With a flourish, Master extended her hand, and a massive glowing diamond appeared before her.

"When you defeat an enemy, the Lux they possess is transferred automatically to your Lightvault. In other words, there's no need to search them.

Back to the wagon. We still have a couple of days left."

The older members of the Adventurers' Group obeyed without another word, but Dragoon, Swordsman, and Archer remained where they were, trying to see their own Lightvaults.

To their disappointment, Swordsman's and Dragoon's diamonds were almost tiny.

Archer's, on the other hand, was three or four times larger. Though it still wasn't even half the size of Master's.

"That's not fair," Dragoon complained.

"What? That I'm way better than you?" Cat teased. "No, it isn't. At least not for you."

She stuck out her tongue and ran after Master.

------------------------------------------------------------------

After one more ambush, they reached the town of Shum'Ará in record time thanks to Master's power.

To Swordsman, Shum'Ará was a town in name only.

He had expected houses built on sand, enormous markets, hundreds upon hundreds of colorful townsfolk coming and going, and a dozen domesticated creatures he'd never seen before.

Instead, Shum'Ará was a collection of tents, each put together however their owners had managed. Some were large, with tall, sturdy-looking frames. Others were little more than piles of cloth.

They were all arranged in a circle around an improvised well that looked as though it had dried up long ago.

Surrounding the well, a dozen merchants displayed their wares on wooden tables or slabs of stone.

The stalls fell into two categories.

Some sold food that looked and smelled unpleasant.

The others sold old and rusty trinkets. Unpleasant, too.

Master, disappointed, kept her distance, but instructed Rogue and Cleric to look for anything of value.

Archer, meanwhile, was delighted.

"What's this? And this? How much is this? Ooh! How do you use this?"

Those were the questions she flooded the ragged merchants with.

"Do you think we'll find anything valuable here?" Dragoon asked as he walked over to Swordsman.

"Food, maybe. If you can even call that food."

"I don't think we need to worry about that. After all, this is..."

"Is?"

"N-No... I don't know what I was about to say. That's strange. For a second, it felt like I suddenly forgot how to speak."

"Is the heat getting to you again? I can ask Cleric to cool you off."

"I don't think so. Though honestly, I wouldn't mind. You feel like you just got out of a bath."

Dragoon laughed and wandered off to browse the merchants' goods as well.

Not interested in doing the same, Swordsman looked for Master, but seeing her speaking quietly with a stranger, he decided not to interrupt and walked over to Archer instead.

"What do you think this is?" Swordsman asked, picking up an object from one of the tables that looked remarkably like a gear.

"I don't want to talk to you, Swordsman." Archer dropped the friendly tone she'd been using with the merchants. "And in case you couldn't tell..." A die rolled a Seventeen

.

"It is, in fact, a gear."

Swordsman took another look at the object. Now it seemed obvious.

He felt like an idiot for the way he'd started the conversation. At the same time, he was confused. He hadn't expected Archer to be upset with him, yet somehow he felt like he should know why.

"And this?"

He picked up a hollow wooden tube carved with creatures he didn't recognize.

Archer reluctantly turned around to look at it. After a moment, she decided to ask the merchant instead.

Another die rolled. Fourteen

.

Swordsman grew even more confused when the two of them started speaking in a different language.

"He says it's a flute. Or maybe I misunderstood and it's a dagger. Although it doesn't really look like a dagger."

"You can speak... whatever language they're speaking?"

"I guess."

"How?"

"Just go with it, okay? And leave me alone. I'm trying to find some treasure."

Swordsman did as she asked and didn't bother her again.

He tried following her advice instead, approaching two more merchants to ask about objects he had no idea how to identify.

The dice didn't help. In the end, neither side understood a word the other said.

Meanwhile, Archer found something that caught her attention.

"Excuse me, what's this? It's beautiful."

She picked up a glass object shaped like a thorn, thicker in the middle than at either uneven tip.

It looked hollow. There was nothing inside but air.

"A Miracle," the merchant replied.

She was an old woman wrapped in tattered cloth, toothless, with one cloudy eye that wandered aimlessly.

"A Miracle? What do you mean?"

"That's what it's called. A Miracle. Give it a little shake, young lady."

Archer did.

Countless bright orange specks gathered inside before swirling into a vortex that disappeared into the empty center.

"Oh! Orange! That's a good sign. A very good sign."

"Oh?"

Archer kept shaking it absentmindedly.

"Yes. Orange is life. Emotion. Adventure. Joy."

"And can it be a different color depending on the person?"

"Of course. That's how Miracles work. They depend on who's holding them... and what they want them for."

"Oh! Hey, Swordsman, you should shake—"

"No!" the old woman interrupted, stretching out an arm. "The Miracle has revealed itself to you. It belongs to you now. You can't give it to anyone else. If you do, it will no longer be yours."

"Oookay... I think I get it. So... can I keep it?"

"For five thousand Lux, of course."

"Oh. I'm not really sure how much five thousand is. Is this enough?"

Archer revealed her entire Lightvault.

The old woman's good eye widened for an instant before returning to normal.

"Almost. You're just a little short. But I'll accept it. After all, the wish chose you, young lady."

"That's very kind of you."

"Anything to make such a lovely young lady happy."

The old woman extended her hand, revealing her own Lightvault, which turned out to be just as small as Swordsman's and Dragoon's.

With a gesture of her other hand, a stream of light flowed from Archer's Lightvault into the old woman's, draining it completely.

"It was a pleasure doing business."

"I think she ripped you off," Swordsman said as they headed back to the group, where everyone had already finished shopping.

"You only say that because you're jealous you didn't find anything as special as my Miracle."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey, Cleric, can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"I still don't understand how this Lux thing works. Can you show me how much five thousand is?"

"Sure."

He held out his hand, revealing his Lightvault, which shrank to an even smaller size than Swordsman's to display the requested amount.

Swordsman couldn't hold back his laughter, though he tried. Which, of course, only made Archer even angrier.

"You could've gotten it for free if you'd told me," Rogue said from behind them as he caught up, holding out several jewels Archer recognized from the old woman's stall.

"These were...

free

."

"All right, everyone," Master said to the group. "I've been told old Arman'Ará is ready to receive us. Let's go."