From Master Assassin to a Random Extra: OP in a Dating Sim
Chapter 78: Cynthia (5)

Chapter 78: Cynthia (5)

As Cynthia began to walk the long path toward the well, the blazing desert wind lashing at her skin like a whip, she began to talk to herself—an old habit meant to distract her from pain, from fear, from the maddening silence.

"I wonder how long it’s been since this test began..." she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow. Her lips were parched, her breathing shallow. Each inhale tasted like dust and heat.

"It should’ve already been a few hours... but I don’t even think any students are getting close to the end," she continued, voice dry and raspy, nearly lost to the howling wind.

She squinted up at the sky, hoping for any sign of time passing—stars, a sun shift, a shadow moving. Nothing. Just that cruel magical sun above, unmoving, radiating the kind of heat that scorched even thought.

"Will the professor continue even if it reaches night...?" she murmured.

Then, her brows furrowed as something clicked in the back of her mind.

"Speaking of professors... why is Professor Trearch the only one assigned for a test this huge?" she asked aloud, her voice taking on a sharper edge.

She began to bite her nails in thought, a nervous tick she hadn’t indulged in for years. The more she thought about it, the more wrong it felt—like puzzle pieces rearranging into a darker picture.

"Not to mention this dungeon... why does it have a piece of my family’s history...?"

Her mind raced, paranoia threading through her thoughts like a cold serpent. A conspiracy? A trap? A forgotten legacy? Why her?

But before she could spiral deeper, a sound cracked through the desert’s oppressive silence.

A voice. Guttural. Raw. Like a zombie’s final breath dragging through brittle lungs.

"Waaater... please..."

The voice rasped behind her, and it wasn’t alone. Two more joined in, hoarse and pleading, their tones desperate and broken—three voices in total, rising like a cursed choir.

Cynthia spun around, instincts flaring. Her breath caught in her throat.

Two mummified corpses shambled toward her, their skin dry and cracked like ancient parchment. Their eyes—hollow sockets of pure black—glowed faintly as they fixed on her. Not her face. Not her wand.

But her clothes.

Her water-infused outfit.

"Ghouls...?" she gasped, eyes widening in alarm.

She didn’t wait for them to get closer. Her body moved before her mind fully caught up—bolting forward, fast and erratic, kicking up sand in uneven strides.

While the ghouls couldn’t reach her even when she walked at a steady pace, Cynthia had no idea what other horrors might crawl from beneath the dunes. And considering how these had just emerged from the sand...

She assumed—knew—more would come.

"I’m a mage, not a fighter!" she shouted in exasperation, still running. Her feet burned every time they pressed against the sun-scorched ground. Her legs ached from the sheer distance she had already covered. The well in the distance wavered like a mirage—mocking her, not growing any closer.

She risked a glance over her shoulder.

The ghouls had fallen behind. Slow. Relentless. But ultimately left in her dust.

"At least they won’t be much of a problem..." she muttered, slowing her pace and catching her breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, heart pounding from adrenaline and heatstroke alike.

She stopped completely and looked around.

"There should be another way to solve this puzzle... running to it probably won’t yield much results..."

Her voice trailed as her eyes scanned the horizon—desperate to find something, anything that might be a clue. But there was nothing but endless dunes, a shimmering sky, and the ever-distant well that refused to draw nearer.

"I’m in a bit of a bind here..." she panted, wiping her drenched forehead. More sweat dripped down her neck, tracing down her collarbone, soaking into her already damp clothes.

Her enchanted outfit, made of liquid magic, clung tighter to her skin now—heavier, weaker. Its coolness, once a comfort, was fading, slowly but surely losing the battle against the unforgiving heat.

"The heat doesn’t help as well..." she muttered bitterly, sinking to the ground. Surprisingly, the sand didn’t burn her on contact—the outfit still retained enough enchantment to shield her, if only barely.

She sat cross-legged, trying to steady her breath, thinking aloud to herself as the silence once again returned.

"Ghouls that desire water... an outfit that seemed to attract them... a well that’s out of reach..."

Her gaze hardened. "And no magic..."

Cynthia tilted her head back, staring at the cloudless sky, searching for something—an answer, a sign, a divine hint from the heavens. Anything.

The blue above offered nothing but shimmering distortion.

"The humidity is making the heat worse as well..." she added absently, brushing a stray hair from her face.

Then she froze. Her eyes widened. Something clicked.

Realization slammed into her like a freight train.

"Humid..." she whispered, the word tasting different now. Not oppressive. Not painful.

Potential.

"Humidity means... there’s tons of water vapor in the air..."

It was everywhere. Around her. Inside her breath. On her skin. Waiting.

Waiting for her to see it.

Her eyes sparked with new life. Her fingers twitched. Her breathing quickened—not from fatigue, but excitement.

She began to mumble, thoughts spilling out like water breaking through a dam. "Earrings that gave me a connection to water..."

"That’s it!"

She sprang to her feet, trembling with anticipation. Her body tensed, mind focused like a blade honed for a single purpose. This was it. Her theory. Her gamble.

Her hope.

"Please work!" she shouted, closing her eyes tight.

And then—she reached out.

Not with her hands, but with her soul.

With the magic buried deep within, the magic that had once flowed like a river.

She reached—not for mana. But for moisture.

What if she was wrong?

What if there was nothing left to reach for?

A breath caught in her chest. Then she pushed harder—past fear, past fatigue.

The air shimmered around her, thick with water she could almost taste.

She didn’t know if it would work.

But she was done waiting to be saved.