At first glance, the desert seemed like a place where no life could exist. Yet life thrived here. Monsters lurking beneath the sand, massive beasts striding proudly atop it, and even humans moving cautiously under their shadow. In the desert’s hierarchy of life, humans sat firmly at the very bottom. No longer the rulers of Earth, they had fallen to creatures who had to tiptoe around the beasts. Of course, there were exceptions—a few awakened who possessed enough power to crush monsters with ease. But they were rare. And even such beings, if stranded alone in the desert, would struggle to avoid death. The desert was never kind to humans. That was why humans only ever moved in groups when entering it. A species already prone to clustering, the hostility of the desert only forced them to bind together even tighter. So too was it with the caravan now crossing the sands. They rode in groups upon bactrian camels. The camels hauled wagons laden with countless supplies—over twenty of the beasts straining under the weight. And upon each camel’s back sat humans dressed in 'deshada' robes. The man at the lead camel loosened the cloth wrapped around his lower face and muttered. He was in his early forties, with a thick beard covering his jaw. Wiping the sweat at his eyes, he glanced around. “Haa… still a long way to El Harun.” His name was ''Hodran''. Born of a human and an elf, he was a half-elf. Though outwardly, he was little different from any human. He ran a caravan that supplied El Harun with the goods it needed. Hiding his mixed blood, he roamed from scattered survivor villages to hidden colonies in the desert, secretly gathering supplies. His pointed ears could be covered easily with a bandana or hat. Not only Hodran, but his entire company was made up of halves and quarters. Staring toward the direction of El Harun, Hodran muttered again. “It grows harder to procure supplies by the day.” “Can’t be helped, sir. Humans are living in poverty themselves.” ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel※fire.net A voice answered from behind. It was ''Etrang'', Hodran’s trusted right hand. Like him, a half-elf—though much younger, and brimming with energy. Driving his camel forward, Etrang drew alongside. “How long must we go on ? Buying up human goods in secret, like thieves? Wouldn’t it be better to reveal ourselves and trade openly?” “We can’t. Not if we wish to protect El Harun.” “I don’t see why. El Harun’s civilization already far surpasses that of humans. I can’t imagine humans being a threat.” “That’s only because you don’t know. Humans have—” “Yes, yes! Neo Seoul, right? But isn’t that all exaggerated talk? I can’t believe humans actually built such a city.” At his skeptical words, Hodran smiled bitterly. Most elves in El Harun thought the same way. Proud of what they had accomplished in the wasteland, they looked down on humans. And it was hard to blame them. The humans they encountered were pitiful—living deep underground, hiding from monsters. Their civilization had barely clawed past the medieval level. Awakened warriors kept their settlements from ruin, but they were like candles in the wind, ready to be snuffed out at any moment. Elf or human, people believed only what they had seen with their own eyes. And for the younger half-elves, what they saw led naturally to disdain. Perhaps Hodran would have thought the same, had he not seen Neo Seoul himself in his youth. He had not entered, but from afar he had gazed upon it. Even now, the memory lingered—terror, awe, a shiver of overwhelming force. At the thought of Neo Seoul, even today, his fingertips tingled as though struck with lightning. So he would often tell his men of that city. Never to underestimate humanity’s strength. But most of his people dismissed his words—like Etrang beside him. The youth not only mocked Earth’s humans but even the humans dwelling within El Harun. It was troubling behavior, yet scolding deaf ears felt pointless. Hodran fell silent, scanning the desert. And then—he saw something strange. Etrang’s gaze followed—and his eyes widened. “Looks like it, yes.” There, in the middle of the desert, stood an elf maiden in tattered clothing. She looked human at a glance, but there was no mistaking the aura and presence unique to elves. Standing motionless like a statue, she resembled a straggler left behind. “Why would an elf be here?” “Perhaps. Let’s check.” Etrang agreed without hesitation. He might scorn humans like dirt under his nails, but his attitude toward his own kin was entirely different. An elf lost and alone in the desert—especially a woman—was one who must be saved. The caravan soon reached her. Hodran and Etrang dismounted and approached cautiously, so as not to startle her. And then both drew sharp breaths. Up close, her beauty was stunning. Her dusky, sun-burnished skin gleamed like black pearl. Long, flowing black hair spilled to her waist, fluttering like seaweed in water. And her face—so breathtaking that it robbed them of thought. But most striking of all were her eyes. A rare gray hue, almost unseen among elves. Yet rather than strange, the unique color only deepened her allure. Etrang thought, in that instant, that he had fallen in love. Hodran, however, remained wary. A woman this beautiful, alone in the desert? Something felt wrong. “My name is Hodran. I run a small caravan, as you can see. Who are you, and why are you here, alone in the sands?” The woman only stared at him in silence. “Captain, don’t scare her. Can’t you see? She must have been abandoned, terrified into silence. Don’t press her so hard.” Etrang stepped in, but Hodran ignored it. “Tell us your name. And why you are here—” Her voice was strange, as if unused for years. The words came clumsy, awkward. She tilted her head, as though realizing it herself. Etrang chuckled kindly. “Take your time. You must be frightened, left here . Speak calmly.” The woman lowered her head, lips moving silently as if rehearsing. Then at last, she spoke. “As you see. The desert.” “Why… has the world become desert?” “You from another world? The terraforming ruined Earth, turned it all into desert.” “Terraforming…? Is that so…” Memories she had absorbed from another flickered to life, fragments aligning into clarity. And with them, understanding of what she must do. Hodran pressed her again, voice stern. “…My name is Ne… ria.” “Neria? Why are you here alone? Where are your companions?” “Abandoned? By your own kin?” Hodran fell silent. Then anger flashed in his eyes. Among elves, to abandon one’s kin was the gravest shame. No matter the peril, it must never be done. That was their pride. “Haa… how could they abandon you? Tell me your village. I will take you there.” “It no longer exists.” Hodran dragged a hand down his face. Etrang whispered at his side. “Likely scavengers or beasts wiped it out.” “Let’s take her with us.” “Would you leave her here? With no village?” As Hodran sighed, Etrang pressed again. “Look at her. No weapon, nothing. Leave her here and she’ll be devoured in half a day. You said it yourself—never abandon kin.” “Yes! Look at her. A perfect elf. Darker skin, yes, but she’s clearly one of us.” Hodran froze. For the first time, he truly noticed her complexion. “…Could it be—you are a Dark Elf?” At her words, Hodran could not answer quickly. Dark Elves were treated differently in El Harun. And not in a favorable way. ‘Is it right to bring an outsider Dark Elf into El Harun…?’ While he hesitated, Etrang cut in. “So what if she’s Dark Elf? She doesn’t look pure-blood anyway. At worst, they’ll think she’s just tanned. Remember our duty. Never abandon kin. Would you cast her aside? An elf?” Hodran nodded at last. “Haha! Glad you’re with us.” Neria simply stared, blank, at his cheer. Thus, her journey with them began. Hodran seated her atop a riderless camel. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful elf.” The caravan members gasped in awe. Anyone else might have grown flustered under such attention. But Neria only gazed blankly out at the desert, unmoved.