A sandbender’s boat was essentially a catamaran.
Supported by two runners, it glided smoothly across the surface.
Compared to more common boats, this design was less prone to pitching on uneven terrain and easier to steer.
Catamarans were significantly slower at low speeds, but in the desert, nobody cared about that trivial fact.
Speed was everything.
The problem was that catamarans were harder to repair.
If you broke one runner, you couldn’t patch the hole or start bailing water.
You couldn’t even move, which for desert dwellers was the worst possible problem.
Stopped beside the runner that had split in two, all of us in the “caravan” wiped the cold sweat from our brows.
“We can’t patch it up.” Even Tassad’s face darkened.
“The crack runs across.
Probably hit a sharp rock on the way.
The right side will just wobble and pull apart the moment we move.
We can’t ride it.”
“…Hey, maybe we steal one?” Ba’el whispered, covering his mouth.
He stared hungrily at the boats belonging to the bandits who’d been lurking near us.
There were three of them.
A whole gang.
“If you like relying on brute force, why not just join their gang?” Tassad glared at his workers, making them shrink their heads.
Obviously, stealing would lead to a fight and bloodshed.
He was just being realistic.
Instead of charging in blindly, he looked around.
“We’ll have to fix it.
The city’s never had a boat shop, but materials get brought here often.”
Tassad gestured at me, then got behind the boat and started pushing the sand beneath it, maneuvering it deeper into the settlement.
Realizing what he needed, I started helping, moving the boat along the current we created.
It was like sailing a paper boat down a stream, just much bigger.
And people were staring.
All the locals watched our struggle with amusement.
The discomfort grew with every step, and I started feeling irritated at the workers who just walked alongside us, resting.
“We’re here.” Father stopped near a large house made of sandstone bricks.
The sign showed a lotus flower a florist shop.
Strange as it was, even in a dump like this, people loved plants.
We had a few at home too.
He ordered the workers to guard the boat and called me inside.
Ding.
A bell chimed above our heads, revealing pots made of tightly packed sand.
They held not just expensive plants but valuable soil too.
All displayed on beautiful wooden shelves.
Clearly, we came here for wood.
Tassad looked around and spotted the seller sitting behind the counter, fanning himself with a newspaper.
He walked over and fixed him with a hard stare.
“We need a piece of processed wood to fix our boat.”
“…You’re out of luck.
No processed wood,” the skinny merchant replied, unsurprisingly.
Father’s gaze grew harder.
“I do have raw timber, though.
Bought it recently.
But it needs to be dried before it’s usable.
It’ll be stronger.”
“Wood needs to be dried…” This was new to Father.
He frowned.
“How…”
“A month.” Just as Father was about to ask, the merchant dropped the bad news.
“Consider yourself lucky we’re in the desert.
In the wetter parts of the continent, it’d take at least six months.
Once all the moisture evaporates, come back.”
“Hm?” At that moment, I blinked.
To make wood stronger, you just needed to remove some of the moisture.
That sounded simple.
I looked at Father, who seemed to be weighing his options, and quietly tugged his sleeve.
At that moment…
“Choose:”
1: Share the idea with your father (Your relationship improves.
A chance to earn money).
2: Suggest robbing the bandits.
Your survival matters more than theirs (Risk of serious injury.
You’ll get three boats and all their cargo).
3: Suggest stealing from the merchant.
Your life is more important than his livelihood (Your relationship with your parents becomes strained).
For a second, I choked up.
Father asked what I wanted, but I just stood there with my mouth open.
Getting a bunch of boats, tons of loot, robbing the merchant?
That would make our lives much easier.
Expand the business.
But avoiding injuries and practicing the ability Father taught me seemed more important.
“What if we…
helped remove the moisture?”
“Oh…” Clarity flashed in Tassad’s eyes.
While the merchant tilted his head in confusion, Father quickly decided to negotiate.
He asked to be shown the wood so he could choose a piece for the future.
Rolling his eyes, the merchant got up and led us to the fenced backyard where thick logs lay on stone pallets.
Father walked through the rows, picked the right one, and looked at the merchant again.
“I’m proposing a deal.”
“More scammers,” the merchant sighed tiredly.
“Listen.
We’ll help dry all the logs.
In return, you pay us and give us one piece for free.
You want to sell your goods as fast as possible, right?”
Placing his hand on the log, wrapping it in sand, Tassad began to drain all the moisture from the thick timber.
It transformed before our eyes.
The previously annoyed merchant, who’d been ready to throw us out, froze and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
“What kind of trick is that?!” The skinny guy rushed over and started touching his own merchandise.
His eyes widened with every second.
“Unbelievable!
Shouldn’t the wood have cracked from such fast drying?
How did you do it?!”
“I’m not burning it.
Just absorbing the moisture evenly across the entire surface.
So, do we have a deal?”
Tassad was magnificent.
He never broke character though I doubted it was an act and took control of the situation.
The amazed merchant thought it over quickly and agreed.
He bargained with my father for a few copper coins per log.
In the end, it came to about sixty pieces.
That was more than we’d earned from selling all our goods in the city.
I was thrilled.
Father called me over to help speed things up.
At first, he watched closely to make sure I extracted the moisture evenly I’d be lying if I said I got it right the first time.
But following his guidance and plenty of practice, I learned to drain just as fast as him.
Once we finished with the logs, everyone was happy.
The merchant rubbed his hands greedily, and we had our piece of wood and a way to escape.
“Dad…
the wood’s not shaped.
What do we do?” As soon as we hauled the timber outside and placed it next to the boat, the obvious question hit me.
In response, Tassad shrugged, stomped his foot on the sand, and summoned a wave that carved the wood into the shape we needed.
With the workers’ help, he quickly swapped the runner and climbed onto the boat.
“…Good as new.”
“We’re not going to die!” Hamri almost knocked me over with a bear hug.
“Good job.
If you hadn’t pulled it off, I’d have gone to rob those bandits, I swear,” the other one hugged me.
They barely did anything, and now they were boasting.
I squinted at them, wanting to punch them, but Tassad grabbed them by the scruffs and threw them into the cabin.
“Finally.
Let’s go.”
Giving me an approving look, he summoned a tornado.
As originally planned, we headed not far from the city, just for a simple training session.
We stopped a couple of kilometers away, and Father and I stepped onto the sand.
While the others lazed around, he knelt and ran his fingertips over the grains.
“You’ve probably noticed all our houses are made of sandstone.
Strengthening sand into a solid state is an important skill, but not just for construction.” He scooped up a handful and shaped it into a dagger, sharpening the edge into stone.
“Desert benders’ attacks are mostly cutting, unlike earthbenders’ crushing.
Nothing stops you from compressing sand into rock and smashing something, but…
do I need to say that’s not as deadly?”
Right then, Ba’el and Hamri jumped off the boat and drew their curved swords.
Sunlight glinted off the polished metal, casting a couple of reflections.
They surrounded me.
“Still, we’re not great at avoiding attacks.
Smoothly deflecting strikes while holding our ground that’s the real power.” Tassad suddenly clenched his fist, and the sand beneath my feet started pulling me down.
I could barely lift my foot, like I’d stepped into quicksand.
At the same moment, Ba’el swung his weapon, cutting a strip of my clothing.
They all stared at me coldly, especially my father, whom I thought had softened.
“Without the ability to defend yourself, they’ll just trap you in the sand and you’ll die.”
Then he turned his back on me and walked to the boat, while the workers raised their blades, slicing through the air.
Neither escape nor help was coming.
They’d thrown me into a harsh reality.
Even with my 21st-century mindset, I still couldn’t fully grasp how brutal this world was.
High mortality rates, no antibiotics?
That wasn’t even the main thing.
There was a war going on, and smart people like my father knew it could reach everyone.
If you didn’t get strong, you’d die like a hunted sand viper.
CLANG.
Rising sand tentacles instantly deflected the incoming blades.
Sparks flew as the sharp edges struck.
Ba’el and Hamri grinned, but such a counter didn’t surprise professional swordsmen.
Their paired blades created a cyclone of strikes, each movement flowing smoothly from the last.
These feints reminded me of sand magic.
Just like Father taught me.
Spinning in one direction, guiding every grain.
Individually they were weak, but together they formed an unstoppable tornado the sharpened tentacles deflected each blow in rhythm.
Sand really was like water, just like in the cartoon, but with one key difference.
Every swing had weight, and soon the workers’ arms were giving out.
“I hope you’re getting this.” Tassad’s voice came again.
Then a sandstorm appeared, knocking the workers off their feet.
Tiny holes appeared in their clothes.
“See how flexible our abilities can be.
Don’t limit your mind.
But don’t get cocky either.
There’s always someone stronger.”
His men’s legs were covered in sand that hardened into stone.
The next moment, a sand tornado rose the same kind that propelled our boat.
But the grains sharpened, turning the tornado into a herald of death.
The workers were nearly shredded, falling back in terror until…
the sand just collapsed.
Hamri and Ba’el exhaled in relief and smiled.
“Tassad was holding back,” they said casually, as if nothing had happened.
The atmosphere seemed to normalize, but my mood was still low.
The desert’s rules were no different from the law of the jungle.
That was the sad truth.
“Choose:”
1: Help them up (Your relationship with the workers improves).
2: Turn away (The strongest survive.
You learn to betray acquaintances to save yourself).
3: Strike them to practice your attacks (Your partners start fearing for their lives, training accelerates.
Your relationship becomes tense).
Anubis was preaching the same thing.
Head down, fists clenched, I didn’t want to accept those terms.
Betray others?
I wanted to live properly, not plug holes with treachery and backstabs.
The pirate’s path was for the morally bankrupt.
“Oh…
thanks.” The guys blinked at my outstretched hand.
They got up and brushed off the dust.
“I wanted to ask,” I whispered, making sure Tassad couldn’t hear.
“Is Father always like this?
I mean…
rough?”
Ba’el and Hamri exchanged glances and smirked.
“Don’t worry, we’re used to it.”
“Tassad’s a child of the streets, same as us.
We weren’t surprised when the boss took you on this trip.
He went into the desert at that age too, to survive and earn a living.
Hey, at first he didn’t even want to bring you.” Ba’el turned to his friend.
“But he messes with you more.
Weakling.”
“Hey, he messes with both of us.”
Watching the bickering workers, thinking about my father’s so-called “softness,” I had to nod.
Good thing he was the way he was.