Chapter 209: The Camp

Standing atop a massive dune, Thoren gazed into the distance.

From where he stood, clusters of tents stretched across the desert like scattered fragments of a broken world.

They were numerous, well over a hundred and spread unevenly across the sand, forming what could only loosely be called a settlement.

“That’s our camp,” Tahlia said with a bright smile. “Beautiful, right?”

Thoren did not respond.

Beautiful?

He could not see it.

From his perspective, the tents were anything but appealing. They were old, worn, and poorly maintained. Some leaned awkwardly, their frames barely holding together, while others appeared patched with mismatched fabrics that fluttered weakly in the desert wind.

Sensing his silence, Tahlia tilted her head slightly, studying him.

“You must be new,” she said.

From what she had observed, Thoren carried himself too calmly, too clean for someone who had spent time in the Bleeding Desert.

Anyone who had survived here for even a week would have lost that sense of composure.

The desert stripped people down. It left marks.

Yet Thoren…

Even though he hid it well, she could still catch glimpses of curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Behind her, her teammates also turned to look at him, waiting for his response.

“Is that a problem?” Thoren asked calmly.

“Hmm?”

Tahlia paused for a moment before breaking into laughter.

“Hahaha… No, not at all. I was just curious.”

She waved her hand dismissively, brushing off the moment.

“Anyway, let’s get back to camp,” she added, clapping her hands lightly. Her smile widened. “I can’t wait to get out of these rags and clean myself.”

Behind her, her teammates nodded eagerly in agreement. Their exhaustion was evident, but the thought of rest clearly lifted their spirits.

As they descended the dune and approached the camp, Thoren began to notice the atmosphere more clearly.

It was noisy.

Far noisier than he had expected.

Voices echoed everywhere, shouts, arguments, negotiations.

“Looking for a healer!”

“Need a mage—urgent!”

“Split loot, no freeloaders!”

Awakeners moved about in a restless flow, calling out to one another as they formed groups to venture into the Bleeding Desert.

The energy was chaotic.

Thoren’s expression remained calm.

Then, the smell.

A thick, metallic stench hung in the air.

Blood.

It was everywhere.

Clinging to the sand, the tents, even the people.

It was suffocating.

Yet the inhabitants of the camp moved about as if it were nothing.

After walking for some time, Tahlia led the group into a black tent.

From the outside, it looked no different from the others, old and unimpressive.

But inside, Thoren paused slightly.

The interior was surprisingly organized.

Cloth partitions and wooden supports divided the space into sections, giving it the structure of multiple rooms. At the center was a crude counter, behind which sat a middle-aged man.

His appearance was rough.

Several of his teeth were missing, and the rest were stained black.

“Hmm, you came back alive?” the man said, flashing a crooked grin.

“So you expected us to die?” Tahlia shot back with a scoff. “If there were better merchants around, we wouldn’t even bother coming here.”

“Hahaha!” the man laughed loudly.

His gaze shifted to the injured hunter before settling on Thoren.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“You’re new,” he said, his grin deepening.

Thoren met his gaze without any change in expression.

The man seemed unfazed.

“I’m called Black Tooth,” he continued. “The biggest merchant in this area. If you need anything, come to me. I’ll get it for you.”

Despite her obvious dislike, Tahlia gave a small nod.

“He’s right,” she admitted.

“See?” Black Tooth chuckled.

“Enough,” Tahlia said sharply. “Let’s get to business.”

“Ah, business…” he replied, rubbing his hands together. “My favorite.”

Without delay, the group laid out the parts they had harvested from the Sand Hounds.

Black Tooth examined them with swift, practiced movements. Within moments, he finished appraising the materials and stored them in a small box beside him.

“That’ll be twenty silver coins,” he said, looking up at Tahlia.

“No problem,” she replied with a nod.

Despite his personality, his prices were fair.

Black Tooth opened a hidden compartment beneath the counter and retrieved twenty silver coins, placing them on the surface.

The moment the coins changed hands, smiles appeared on the faces of Tahlia and her teammates.

Even such a modest amount meant something here.

“Do you need anything else?” Black Tooth asked eagerly. “I just got new wares, rare ones. Since you’re regular customers, I’ll give you a discount you won’t find anywhere else.”

Tahlia rolled her eyes.

“Greedy bastard…” she muttered under her breath as she turned to leave.

Outside the tent, Tahlia glanced at Thoren.

“We still have a few places to visit,” she said. “If you don’t mind, you can follow us. Otherwise, feel free to explore on your own.”

“I’ll go with you,” Thoren replied.

He knew nothing about this place.

Moving blindly would only lead to unnecessary trouble.

But by staying with them, he could learn a thing or two.

And perhaps, most importantly, gather information about his trial.

When the others heard his response, it further confirmed their suspicions.

He was new.

But this time, no one commented. They simply continued walking. Their next stop was an alchemist’s tent, which also functioned as a clinic.

Inside, the injured hunter was treated.

The process was efficient, but the cost was steep.

Five silver coins.

Thoren observed silently. The price alone spoke volumes about the difference between the first and second floors.

Next, they moved to a blacksmith’s tent. Another five silver coins.

By the time they were done, nearly half of their earnings had already been spent.

Finally, with the most urgent matters settled, the group stopped in a narrow passage between tents.

For a moment, no one spoke. They simply looked at one another, the exhaustion of the day settling over them.

The desert had taken its toll.

“Let’s split the remaining money,” Tahlia said as she carefully distributed the few coins left among her teammates.

Each person received their share without complaint. Though the amount was small, their smiles still brightened. In a place like this, even a handful of coins could mean survival for another day.

No one took such things lightly.

“How long before the camp moves?” Tahlia asked, turning her gaze toward the tank.

“In two days,” he replied without hesitation.

“Then we meet at our usual spot in two days,” Tahlia announced.

The group nodded in agreement. There was no need for further discussion. They had done this many times before.

One by one, they began to disperse.

Each person moved with purpose, eager to spend their newly earned coins.

“Follow me,” Tahlia said, glancing at Thoren.

He nodded and followed her without question.

The two of them moved swiftly through the camp, weaving between rows of tents like shadows slipping through cracks.

Along the way, Thoren observed everything.

Some people lay sprawled on the ground, unmoving.

Others clutched their wounds, groaning in pain.

A few reached out weakly, begging for help as passersby ignored them completely.

“Please… just one coin…”

“Help me…”

Their voices were desperate, yet no one stopped. No one even looked at them for more than a passing glance.

Thoren found this… strange. But he did not speak. As they continued, they passed by a brothel. The sounds were unmistakable.

Loud.

Unrestrained.

Unashamed.

The tents were so thin and worn that shadows moved clearly behind the fabric. The acts within were barely concealed, visible to anyone who cared to look.

And yet, no one reacted. People walked past as if it were nothing.

As if such things were normal. Eventually, they arrived at a mid-sized tent.

“This is it,” Tahlia said as she stepped inside.

Thoren followed. Inside, he realized it was a tavern.

Though the term felt… generous. There were no tables.

No chairs.

Only worn-out mats spread across the ground.

People sat in small groups, holding crude mugs filled with alcohol. Some spoke quietly, others simply drank in silence.

Despite the conditions, no one seemed uncomfortable.

If anything, they appeared at ease.

As though this was the only place they could truly relax.

Tahlia walked toward an empty mat and sat down.

Thoren followed suit, taking a seat opposite her without needing instruction.

A few seconds later, a young man approached and placed two mugs in front of them before leaving without a word.

The mugs were old, their surfaces scratched and worn with age. Inside was a thick, purple liquid.

Thoren stared at it.

He hesitated.

“What are you doing?” Tahlia asked, raising a brow. “Are you planning to waste it? That costs fifty copper coins.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for it,” Thoren replied calmly.

She studied him for a moment before nodding.

“Good.”

She leaned back slightly, taking a sip from her drink.

“But let me remind you, earning money on the second floor isn’t as easy as it was on the first floor,” she said. “Every coin counts.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied.

And he meant it.

From everything he had seen so far, the economy here was harsh.

Unforgiving.

On the first floor, minor injuries might cost ten to twenty copper coins to treat.

Here?

Five silver coins.

The difference was staggering.

Tahlia nodded, seemingly satisfied with his response.

Most newcomers came here with confidence, sometimes arrogance, believing they were different. Until reality broke them.

“I can tell you have questions,” she said, taking another sip of her drink. “So go ahead. What do you want to know?”

She gave a faint smirk.

“This is probably the only time you’ll ever find me this relaxed.”

“Tell me everything about the second floor,” Thoren said without hesitation.

Tahlia was not surprised. She took one final sip before placing her mug down.

For a moment, she remained silent, organizing her thoughts. Then she straightened her back, her expression turning serious.

“Alright,” she said.

“Let’s start with the Bleeding Desert.”

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