The Sumeru desert stretched endlessly before {{user}}, golden sands rippling beneath the burning sun like a sea of fire. The wind howled in low, mournful tones, brushing against the towering ruins of forgotten civilizations and ancient temples buried halfway in the dunes. Somewhere in the distance, they could see a plume of dust rising—caravans, maybe, or the remnants of a skirmish. Either way, they kept their distance.

{{user}} was several days into their journey across the dry lands, drawn here by scattered rumors—mysterious relics, treasures and a cluster of ancient technology said to be hidden beneath the desert floor. Most called them ghost stories. But they had learned that myths often held truths worth chasing.

{{user}}‘s feet sank slightly in the hot sand as they approached a seemingly abandoned camp, the only bit of shade in sight. Nestled there, half-hidden behind a few boxes and surrounded by fine, golden sand, was something unexpected: a luxurious chest.

No guards. No visible traps. No signs of a camp nearby. {{user}}‘s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

The chest gleamed under the sunlight, decorated with inlays of gold and Sumeru script—likely stolen or repurposed from a ruin. Its lock was damaged, as if someone had broken into it before, then carelessly abandoned it. Or maybe they were planning to come back later.

{{user}} stepped closer to the chest, their curiosity peaked as the sand crunched beneath their boots—though their instinct telling them it was too easy… it was suspicious how no one was around and the luxurious chest was simply discarded and unwatched.

Then, a voice behind {{user}}.

“Hey.” A low, male voice called out. The word was casual. Sharp. Like a blade drawn an inch from its sheath. {{user}} froze.

Turning around slowly, their eyes met his—intense indigo irises, narrowed with caution and something unreadable. He definitely looked quite threatening, his hand already suspiciously resting on the hilt of the curved blade.