Magus Reborn [Stubbing in Seven Weeks]
233. The desert city

Getting access to the city wasn’t hard at all.

The gates were broken, barely hanging by twisted hinges. No guards manned them, and no voices called out to stop them. It was silent—too silent. As Kai stepped through, spear still in hand, he realized just how empty the streets were.

Everyone was either hiding or had ran, or… well, he refused to think about the worst possible scenario.

After everything he’d learned—from the orcs’ oppression to how the tribes were being taxed harshly from Ansel—Kai had expected things to look grim. But not like this.

This was worse.

Buildings stood broken or burning, their wooden frames blackened and cracked. Roads were littered with rubble, shattered pottery, torn cloth, and blood—blood that had dried dark across the stone or still ran fresh near the gutters. Here and there, bodies lay sprawled. Some of them were armored in crude gear, clearly local guards who’d tried to resist the orcs.

They hadn’t succeeded.

The atmosphere was thick. Every corner they turned brought more ruin. And every time they passed a body, Ansel and the three Ashari youths would stop.

They’d kneel down, check faces, look for familiar signs.

More than once, Kai saw Ansel flinch, his fists tightening by his sides, his breath catching. But they never spoke. They just stood again and kept walking.

Even ten minutes in, they had seen no sign of the living. The silence was heavy, and it finally pushed Kai to speak.

He turned to the three Ashari men and asked, “Where is everyone? Did they escape?”

One of them who had taken the role of speaker—taller than the others, with a wrapped arm and tired eyes—shook his head.

“They’ll be at the tribe’s council hall,” he said. “There are underground bunkers beneath it. It’s where the children and women hide during attacks. It’s also the most fortified place in the city.”

Kai nodded. “Then lead the way.”

Without wasting a moment, the man turned and began to move, picking up the pace in a run. And the rest followed.

Kai kept his gaze ahead, but his eyes flicked sideways to Rhea. She hadn’t said a word the entire time. The burning streets didn’t seem to shake her. Her face stayed calm despite seeing corpses. Even if she was going through an inner turmoil, she didn’t show.

Good, Kai thought. She needs to keep composure in such situations.

But Ansel… Ansel was struggling.

His face had gone pale, his eyes constantly scanning the streets around them as if he might catch sight of someone familiar in a corpse. His steps didn’t falter, but there was a stiffness in them, like his whole body was tensed for bad news.

Kai glanced at him once, almost reaching out, almost saying something, but stopped. Words wouldn’t help right now. Only seeing his family alive could ease that fear.

So Kai kept his focus on running.

Eventually, after weaving through shattered roads and broken alleyways, they reached the council hall the teenager had spoken about. A large stone structure with sturdy walls and tall archways that was still standing and didn't seem to be damaged at all.

And to Kai’s relief, people were there.

Dozens of them gathered in the courtyard in a wide circle. Some sat or leaned against walls, clearly wounded. Others whispered among each other. But they were alive.

Kael immediately moved to station the horses away from the crowd as the three Ashari youths turned and paused at the edge of the gathering.

One of them gave Kai a respectful nod, murmuring a soft “thank you”. And then they all broke off, disappearing into the crowd—no doubt going to find their families.

Kai turned to the rest of his group. “Let’s reach the center,” he said. Then he looked at Ansel. “Your father is the tribe chief of Rahzet, right?”

Ansel nodded.

“Then it’s best we speak to him directly.”

They began moving through the gathered people. As expected, their appearance didn’t go unnoticed. Kai heard the whispers start almost immediately.

Strangers. Outsiders. Who were they?

Barring Ansel, none of them looked like they belonged here. Their skin tones, their clothes, their posture—it all marked them as foreigners, and the wounded, grieving eyes around them watched with cautious curiosity.

He tried his best to keep his expression calm and his pace steady, hoping the people here wouldn’t judge too harshly. Prejudice was the last thing they needed right now. As they neared the center, voices rose ahead.

At the heart of the crowd, a small clearing had formed. In it stood a middle-aged man—sharp-eyed and red-faced—locked in a heated argument with an older woman who looked just as firm and unwilling to back down.

A few others stood nearby, staring at the arguing duo. They said nothing, watching the argument escalated, but their posture and the presence of robed men around them made it clear—they were important.

Kai and the others stopped at the edge of the circle. Eyes turned toward them again.

But they stayed still, knowing there would be a right moment to step in. The woman’s voice rang through the clearing, sharp and full of anger.

“Do you really want to kill more people, Khalid? Why don’t we just execute each other now and get it over with?” she snapped. “What good will be left if we survive by stabbing each other in the back?”

Khalid gritted his teeth. His hands were clenched tight, his voice shaking with rage and exhaustion.

“You don’t understand, Maari,” he shot back. “Were you even in the meeting two months ago? Did you see what I saw?”

His voice rose. The crowd around them grew still.

“I watched that bloody orc Zethar crush Jahir with his bare hands. He exploded—flesh, bone, blood. It was not a simple death, Maari. There was nothing left to bury. We had to burn what was left so his family wouldn’t see him like that.” His breath was harsh now, almost panting. “You can believe what you want. But this isn’t just about cruelty anymore. Our tribes are being hunted down. We’ll be exterminated if we keep standing alone.”

He pointed around the circle, his voice rising to the others watching. “We either run—or we come together and launch a real, united assault.”

Maari shook her head. “I can’t send my men to die like that. I won’t lead them to become rebels.”

“We’re not rebels!” Khalid’s voice was loud and Kai saw his neck vein pop up in anger. “This sand—this land—belongs to us just as much as them. It belongs to us even more! After what they’ve done the last ten years? The orcs have no right to anything here.”

No one answered. Kai’s group stood silently at the edge, watching. He glanced toward Ansel and saw the change in his eyes. He followed his gaze and found it was on Khalid.

He could tell that Ansel was holding himself back and the next second, without saying a word to the rest of them, he stepped forward with tense shoulders.

“Khalid… You’re alive,” Ansel said softly, but it was enough for everyone to hear him.

Khalid turned, slowly. His eyes landed on Ansel, and in that moment, all the anger in his face fell away. For a long second, he didn’t say anything. Then his eyes widened. Khalid retreated from the woman, and moved forward toward Ansel, pulling him into a rough, desperate hug.

Kai watched as Khalid’s body shook, tears welling in his eyes.

“Ansel,” he muttered, voice cracking. “My brother… You’re back…”

Whispers spread through the crowd like wind over dry sand in an instant and he saw Maari and the others behind her had similar shocked expressions.

“Ansel?” someone muttered to Kai's left.

“He’s the one who ran away…”

“I thought he was dead.”

“After all this time?”

Hearing the whispers ripple through the crowd, Kai felt a quiet shift inside him.

That changes things.

The odds of earning the tribe’s support had just gone up—significantly.

He had known Ansel came from a tribe leader's family, but ten years was a long time, especially with the orcs exterminating humans. In that span, loyalties faded, leadership changed, and people ceased to exist. And the reaction Ansel had received from Khalid spoke volumes.

He still remembers him. Still care.

Kai turned his attention back to the center of the gathering from the whispers.

The brothers had broken off their hug and were now speaking in low, urgent voices. Khalid held Ansel by the shoulder, trying to steady his breath, but Ansel's questions came out one after the other.

“Brother… What's going on? Why did the orcs attack the tribes? And what happened to the village? It’s changed so much. Grew so fast. And where’s Father?”

Khalid’s expression shifted. His eyes lowered, voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Father’s dead,” he said. “He died a few years ago. Zethar killed him.”

Ansel froze. “What?” he said, the word barely audible. “But… he was a capable knight. He would never go down that easily.”

“I’ll explain later,” Khalid said quietly, glancing around at the people still listening. “This isn’t the time. We’ve just been attacked. There’s too much that needs to be done right now.”

Then, Khalid looked up. His gaze landed on Kai and the others. His brows furrowed slightly, clearly evaluating them.

Ansel noticed and followed his gaze.

“They’re with me,” he said quickly. “They came here with me for a reason. We have business in the desert.”

Then he pointed directly at Kai.

“That’s Count Arzan of Lancephil. He’s a Fourth-Circle Mage.”

The reaction was immediate.

Khalid’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and behind him, the other men and women—likely members of the council the Ashari teens had mentioned—shifted as well. Their expressions changed from neutral to guarded.

Kai recognized the look. It was the face of people reevaluating a stranger they deemed dangerous.

“You brought someone important with you,” Khalid said slowly. “A noble from Lancephil… His business in the desert must be important enough to come here personally.”

His voice wasn’t accusing—but it was clearly probing. Kai didn’t answer and let Ansel handle it.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Ansel said, shaking his head. “Not now.”

Khalid gave him a long look, then finally nodded. “Very well.”

Then he turned to face the council members behind him, his voice shifting back.

“I believe we can continue this discussion later. Right now, we need to focus on rebuilding.”

There was a pause.

Then one of the councilmen, an older man with gray streaks in his beard, stepped forward. His one eye was closed, and he bore Khalid with the other. “And what about the ones the orcs took?” he asked. “We can’t just leave them.”

Khalid’s jaw tightened.

His teeth clenched before he answered. “We’ll discuss that in the meeting. We can’t rush into anything. If we go after them now, we’ll only lose more people. Our numbers are already too low.”

That answer, though grim, seemed enough.

The councilman gave a short nod, then turned to a group nearby—men in plain desert robes, but with the unmistakable bulk of armor hidden beneath. At a signal, they moved out, quietly starting to guide and disperse the gathered crowd.

The circle broke apart slowly, the whispers fading as the survivors moved back to tending the wounded or helping with rebuilding. Khalid turned back to Ansel, then looked at the rest of them.

“Come,” he said. “Let me show you the way inside the hall. We don’t have many outsiders here, so you’ll need to accommodate yourselves.”

Without any more words, he led the way. They followed him in silence.

As they walked, Khalid kept asking Ansel questions. “How have you been all these years? Where did you go? I thought you would never step foot in the desert again.”

Ansel answered in pieces. Kai didn’t listen to the details—he didn’t need to. Just hearing Khalid’s warm tone was enough. The bond between the brothers was strong, unshaken even by time.

And Khalid was truly glad to have Ansel back.

The inside of the hall was simple. On the ground floor, there was a long table made of dark wood—surrounded by cushions and benches. Several smaller seating areas filled the space, and toward the back, there was a narrow hallway that led to what looked like a kitchen.

But it was the stairs that Khalid stepped towards.

They climbed up to the second floor, where a row of small, clean rooms lined the hall.

“We have three rooms available,” Khalid said, stopping in front of the first door. “You’ll have to share.”

He pointed as he spoke. “The men can take this one. And the women can share the next.” Then he looked at Kai and pointed at the one in the back. “That one’s for you, Count Arzan.”

Kai understood that it was a respect for his standing and nodded.

They stepped inside to place their things down. The rooms were basic—just beds, rugs, and wooden stands—but clean, safe, and dry. That was enough for now. He placed his spear near the door and walked inside.

At the door, Khalid turned to Ansel.

“Come with me,” he said softly. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Ansel nodded and turned to follow Khalid, but not before casting a brief glance back at Kai. He gave a slight nod and kept walking. Kai returned it with a small one of his own, watching Ansel disappear down the hallway with his brother.

Once they were gone, he stepped into his room and let the door close behind him. The bed was plain—woven from hay, cotton stuffed unevenly beneath the fabric—but it was clean. Dry. Soft enough to sit.

He let himself sink down, elbows resting on his knees, thoughts spinning.

So far… this could’ve gone worse.

From what he’d seen and heard, most of the tribal leaders—or at least those on the council—seemed to be against the orcs. Even the woman, Maari, despite her sharp words, didn’t seem to support the enemy. She was just trying to survive.

And he couldn’t blame her for that.

One fight against an orc had been enough to remind him—these creatures weren’t just dumb brutes. They were strong. And some were even trained. The ones he fought were dangerous, and the axe-wielding one from earlier… he’d been something more. Someone important, maybe even an elite.

If that was what they were up against, of course she wouldn’t want to send her people—mostly untrained humans without sufficient mana organs—into a hopeless battle.

Kai ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly.

Still… they’re leaning toward resistance. That’s a start.

Plans started filtering through his mind. Possibilities. Moves. What he needed to do, when, and everything in between. He needed to meet with Ansel again to gather more information. Ansel had reentered the tribe, but his footing wasn’t stable yet. Kai would need to tread carefully through the politics here.

Especially with Khalid.

The man hadn’t given him a reason to distrust him, but Kai knew leaders. Khalid struck him as the cunning type—probably one to play multiple sides when needed. Those kinds were always dangerous.

Kai stood up, straightened his robes, and made his way to the door. He hadn’t taken more than a step into the hallway when he saw two familiar faces standing just outside.

Feroy and Gareth. Both looked calm as they gave him a respectful nod.

Gareth was the first to speak. “You had the same idea as us, Lord Arzan.”

Kai smiled slightly. “Let’s go inside and talk.”

The three of them moved down the hallway quietly. As soon as they stepped into the room, Kai closed the door behind them and turned to face the two Enforcers.

“I believe the council will want to speak with us either today or tomorrow,” he said flatly. “The way some of them were watching… twitching… if Ansel hadn’t told them I was a Fourth-Circle Mage, I think they’d have ordered an interrogation on the spot.”

Feroy nodded, arms crossed. “Yeah. I noticed. So what are we doing?”

Kai stood in the middle of the room and spoke, looking at both of them. “We’re not here to cause trouble. But we do need to take control—at least enough to influence the council. If we want the tribes' strength behind us, and if we want information—on the orcs, and more importantly, the tower—we need their cooperation.” He paused a beat, letting that sink in. “I thought I could force my way to the tower,” he continued. “Use storage stones, my own mana, just launch myself through any orcs or traps in the way. But that was before I saw what we’re really up against. The orcs are stronger than I expected and the artifacts are dangerous. We need to launch a campaign.”

Feroy stayed quiet. Gareth leaned against the wall, listening closely.

“So,” Kai said, looking at both of them. “We need the tribes. We need their knowledge of the land. Their numbers. Their eyes.”

He turned his gaze directly to Gareth.

Gareth nodded before Kai could say anything. “You want me to sneak around. See what I can dig up.”

“Exactly,” Kai replied. “Get anything useful—who the strong voices on the council are, who’s leaning where, who’s afraid, who’s angry. Also… find out why the orcs hit this place so hard. They didn’t just kill—they took people. I want to know who.”

Gareth’s face turned serious. “I’ll make sure you have those answers.”

Kai nodded, then turned to Feroy.

“And me? What do you want me to do, Lord Arzan?”

Kai smiled at the question. “Actually? Nothing.”

“Huh?”

“I’m just going to wait until the council calls for us. Ansel will report back to me when he’s done speaking with Khalid,” Kai explained. “Depending on what they say, we can either stay or we’ll move on. There are more tribes in this desert. We can’t afford to stay here too long.”

He stretched his shoulders slightly, rolling out the tension from earlier. “But until then, I was hoping you’d spar with me.”

Feroy’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Spar? Here?”

Kai shrugged, grinning now. “Why not? Got to stay sharp. And I need to test something.”

Feroy chuckled. “Will we even find a sparring ground here?”

“We can check,” Kai said. “If not, we’ll go out into the desert. I’m pretty sure the tribals won’t mind. Might even enjoy the show.”

***

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