Chapter 39 It Is Only Natural to Be Afraid

"Lower your center of gravity!" Asa roared, facing the oncoming tidal wave of sand.

To better adjust their footing, Oron and Sell, who had been standing, were forced to squat and lean forward, pressing their bodies low while gripping the ship's railing with all their might. This was the best way to avoid being thrown overboard. Although they were both tethered by safety ropes, being flung out in such a situation would not only risk capsizing their small sand-ship but would also make climbing back into the vessel amidst the tsunami of sand a fool’s errand.

As the massive sand wave approached, their small sand-ship turned sideways, its deck tilting dangerously. The threat of capsizing instinctively compelled one to stop and flee, but as an expert sand-ship pilot, Asa knew that slowing down was the worst possible move. On the contrary, he had to push the ship to its maximum speed. Only by doing so could he keep the ship riding the crest of the sand wave rather than being swallowed and crushed beneath it.

Oron noticed his limbs trembling. For the first time in his life, he felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness—a feeling that he was facing something truly "invincible." Not even the monster with the azure claws that had destroyed his home in his youth had ever made him feel this way. He had always believed that as long as he kept pressing forward, he would eventually find that monster and hunt it down.

But this creature was different.

The current situation filled him with a self-doubt he had never known. He recalled the words of Lady Maridan: "They are moving natural disasters." Was this a legendary Elder Dragon? Could a mere shift in its body stir up such a massive wave in the sea of sand? Was this the kind of opponent he had to face as he continued his path as a hunter?

"Lean to the right!" Asa’s roar cut through the air.

Caught in a daze, Oron didn't have time to think; his body reacted on its own. He released his grip on the port railing and threw his entire weight to the right. After another violent shudder and lurch, the small sand-ship finally stabilized. They had successfully surged out of the terrifying sand wave!

The wave kicked up by the Jhen Mohran as it dove into the sand was not a true tsunami, after all; dangerous as it was, it was only the initial surge. They were safe for the moment.

"Woo-hoo!" Asa cheered, adjusting the sail ropes and the rudder to steer toward the *Mohran-Maru*.

Sell straightened up and noticed that Oron was still squatting. He opened his mouth to speak but ultimately remained silent. He had heard Oron say he was introduced to the fleet by an elder to "gain experience," and he understood that elder's intentions perfectly. Facing an Elder Dragon was a priceless experience for any hunter. If one could cross that threshold and emerge from the shadows of fear, there would be few monsters left that could truly terrify them. But if they failed to overcome it, that moment could become an insurmountable mountain in their heart, causing them to lose their drive or even quit being a hunter altogether.

After a long while, Oron finally stood up.

"Are you holding up alright?" Sell asked. "If you're not, don't force it. This isn't a mandatory battle for you. We can find a safe place to drop you off."

Asa, busy maneuvering the ship, glanced back. Last year, when he first saw the Jhen Mohran, he had performed even worse than Oron, and his father had said similar things to him. He had wanted to run, but pride had forced him to stay. Still, he knew the pressure on a pilot was different from that on a hunter. A pilot only needed to steer the ship close, while a hunter had to climb onto the dragon's back and attack such a behemoth with their own hands.

Oron looked at Sell. "Are you trying to comfort me or goad me?"

Sell couldn't help but smile. "Can you take it as half-and-half? Regardless of what you're thinking, you need to decide quickly. That giant is chasing us, and we can't just squat here staring blankly."

"I was just a bit startled, sorry." Oron's expression returned to its usual calm. "But thinking back, so what if it’s a moving natural disaster? Don't we repel it every year?"

Sell’s smile widened, and Asa, still steering, tucked an oar under his arm and gave a thumbs-up.

Oron took a few steps toward the bow to help balance the ship. He stared at Sell and asked in a low voice, "Senior Sell, have you encountered them before? I mean, the Elder Dragon species."

"Uh—" Sell seemed surprised by the term. He remained silent for a few seconds before vaguely replying, "I suppose you could say that. I've had some strange encounters in the past."

"I'm not trying to pry into your past," Oron whispered. "I just want to know, how did you overcome this... sense of helplessness?"

Only then did Sell notice that Oron’s hands were clenched tight. He was using that tension to keep his muscles rigid and suppress the involuntary trembling of his limbs. So, he was just putting on a brave face...

Sell pursed his lips in a smile. He suddenly remembered that this young hunter, who seemed so mature, was actually still an underage boy.

"There is no 'overcoming' it. Your feelings are correct. You’ve just reached two-star rank; if you didn't feel helpless facing an Elder Dragon, would you expect to feel full of power and confidence instead?"

Oron was stumped by the question. "But..."

Sell interrupted him. "Even the legendary hunters couldn't shatter that sand wave with their weapons, nor could they defeat a colossal creature like the Jhen Mohran single-handedly. You stood back up by your own will, decided to continue the fight, and started thinking about how to overcome your 'helplessness' so it doesn't affect the battle. That means you've already calmed down. Don't try to change everything or prove yourself all at once; you've already crossed the hardest step. Honestly, your elder’s goal for having you join this 'Great Desert Feast' has already been achieved. Everything that follows is just a special kind of battle. If you quit now, it wouldn't change a thing."

"That won't do," Oron said, unclenched his fists. His stiff hands were no longer shaking. "I heard you can harvest incredible materials from the Jhen Mohran's back. That's what I came for; I can't quit now."

...

Summoned by signal flares, the scattered small sand-ships gradually returned to the vicinity of the flagship, the *Mohran-Maru*. A fleet of dozens of fishing boats, large and small, had reassembled. Everyone was on high alert, watching the direction where the flares had risen.

"Eleven o'clock! They're here! And a massive school of Sand-fish!" the lookout at the top of the mast roared through his megaphone, dropping his binoculars.

The fleet commander waved his arms vigorously, issuing orders one after another. "Horn-blowers, sound the signal! All sand-ships, prepare for battle! Load the heavy ballistae and cannons! Prime the Dragonator with steam! Get the binding-shot ropes coiled and ready! Notify the fishing fleet! Tell them to intercept the Sand-fish and keep them from interfering with our fight! This year's feast begins now!"