Chapter 11

"Are you ready?" the Summoner asked Artrix, moments before his entrance into the arena.

Artrix glanced back one last time and saw Riven's supportive gesture in the audience section which was accompanied by the three Piltoverans. With sleek confidence, Artrix strode into the rectangular field which natural beauty was artificially implemented under a magical dome. Inside was a bright and sunny tropic jungle which was all but a mere illusion under the grandeur arcane powers of the High Councillor Vessaria. She stood along with several other Summoners of great importance, who dressed in highly ornate robes. They were hidden from view and detection and observed every single moment of Artrix's moves.

"Yes, bring on whatever challenge that awaits me," Artrix said with a nod. The Summoner acknowledged Artrix and backed away, leaving him alone in the faux jungle.

Once inside, all was but an eerie stillness. The heat of the vast savannah, the chitterling of the various jungle creatures and the blistering sun which beat on Artrix was all too real. Yet he knew, that the real challenge awaited, hidden from view as of now. He ventured deeper up ahead in which seemed to be a condensation of forestry which consisted of hundreds of clustering palm trees and dense vines that crept like snakes. He took careful steps over the dead, dried grass which crunched under his feet. With his weapon drawn, he used it like a machete and hacked away the slithering vines and moss and continued deeper inwards.

"High Councillor Vessaria, what shall our first subject be?" one of the observing Summoners asked.

Vessaria pondered for a moment. "Let's give him something easy first, a warm up. Bring out the Jungle Skulks."

With an obedient nod, the Summoner and along with his familiars began conjuring powerful magic in their arcane circle. Green pulsation echoed through the observation chamber and was finished by a low growling.

While under the thick canopies of trees, they had fortunately for Artrix had blocked out some of the unforgiving sweat. He was now drenched in sweat and somewhat regretted having brought his heavy armor which consisted of tempered steel plates over a layer of chainmail. He found a shade under a tall tree and leaned against it, wiping the sweat off his forehead. From his survival satchel which was given to him, he drank a modest amount of water which was hungrily absorbed on his parched lips.

For a moment, the silence of the jungle had returned. Too silent, Artrix thought. The earlier songs of the birds and clicking of the insects had been gone. Now, he was met with the atmosphere of a hunter and its prey. Then, the faintest, most impossible to detect sounds of crunching leafs struck Artrix. He immediately shot up from his resting position and prepared himself in a defensive stance.

From the corner of his eye, a strange distortion in space skulked. The light that went through it was slightly twisted, giving away its approximate location. Anyone who wasn't paying attention would've never noticed it. Then, Artrix realized another disturbing fact; it was the fact that he was stalked not by one, but by an entire pack of these beasts. Suddenly, one of them had lept from the hidden bushes and directly at him. Artrix could hear but not see it and could only hold his blade up to defend against the nigh-invisible threat.

The claws of the Skulk screeched down the length of his steel, causing sparks to explode from the impact. As soon as it had attacked, it disappeared back into its pack. Once again, he was surrounded. The ferocious beasts circled and dashed about like a starved lion hunting its prey. Every piece of attention and focus that Artrix had was slowly being torn apart by the confusion that the sightless beasts were causing.

If only I could see them, then they'll be nothing but sitting ducks, Artrix had thought. Individually and without its camouflage, the Jungle Skulks were weak, however if one could lay eyes on them then they're but mere annoyances rather than threats. Without warning, another of them leapt at Artrix, forcing him to barely parry its deadly claws. He knew that standing here will serve him no purpose. He searched left and right for a path of escape and sprinted away. Behind him, he could still hear the growls and screeches of the Skulks as they chased their prey.

Artrix ran at his fastest speed, jumping over roots and fallen logs while avoiding entanglement by the thick vines. Left and right, he could sense the agile beasts catching up to him. At one moment, two of them dashed in on him which forced him to tumble forward and avoiding their slashes and bites.

As Artrix ran, he felt his heart race and his breath heavy. His energy quickly drained and soon he knew he would have to rest and be at the mercy of them again. At the moment when his hopes were dashed, Artrix spotted a sizable pond up ahead. He then quickly constructed an idea in his head, it may or may not work but it was worth the try.

His feet plunged into the muddy and surprisingly cool water, causing all the dirt to splash up onto his armor. Artrix then positioned himself at the centre of the pond which gave him the widest angle of view around him. Immediately, the deadly yet unintelligent beasts puddled into the water, revealing their locations. Artrix used this to his advantage and now being able to predict any incoming strikes, he readied his sharpened blade. In an instant, one of the Skulks leapt from what it believed to have been hidden, however Artrix saw the wild splashes of the pond and with one mighty blow, it cleaved the beast in half. Its carcass flopped lifeless onto the water, still invisible except for the pool of crimson leaking from its spot.

The blood mixed with the water drove the remaining Skulks into frenzy as the once still pond turned into a near maelstrom. Splashing and hysterical hisses and growls savaged the pond, forcing Artrix to defend himself from every angle. At once, a multitude of hungry claws dashed at Artrix. However, not all was lost. He remembered a technique he had observed on the Fields of Justice; Garen's technique. However, he would add some of his own finesse into this style. In between the spins, he could strike out at lightning speed to further stricken his attacks with deadly precision. Locking his knees and tightening his grip, he gathered momentum and using the weight of the blade as force, he began to turn into a hurricane of steel. He spun rapidly with the tip of his blade ready to strike down anything foolish enough to come close. The best defense is a good offense.

Immediately, more and more of the mutilated carcass of the Jungle Skulks piled onto the pond. Its once muddy water was now blended with the fresh blood of the fell beasts like amalgamated metal. After some time, Artrix scoured his surroundings and found that the peace had returned. He left the sanguine pool and off to dry his boots under the blazing sun.

"Impressive, being able to combine one's technique with another, he is truly more than meets the eyes," Vessaria remarked as he witnessed Artrix's blade skills. "But is it enough for the next one?"

She then turned her gaze to one of the Summoners as if giving out a silent order. The summoning group merely nodded as they concentrated their power in preparation for another spell cast.

Riven, along with the three, had watched intensively at the viewing orb which casted out every single bit of Artrix's struggle. After the first challenge, a slight worry grew within her. She knew that they were to increase in difficulty, but what would come next?

"Don't worry about him Riven, he's a lot tougher than he looks," Caitlyn reassured, noticing Riven's expressions.

"I know, I just hope Vessaria doesn't have anything too harsh," Riven.

Vi looked up while picking her teeth from an earlier lunch. "Why are you worrin' Whitey, it's not like he didn't save your ass ten thousand times. He's not that weak."

Riven sighed and then continued to watch Artrix. The orb had now magically elapsed forward in time, revealing to them the night skies of the savannah.

Artrix trudged on wearily. He was now at least miles where he had started. The starry night sky had now spared him from the heat of the sun but the darkness, except for the dim light from the blinking cosmos above, had greatly hindered his vision. Combined with his drained body and tiredness with the dark, his awareness had already dropped to a point where an elephant could've sneaked past him.

He reached into his satchel and took out his canister and thirstily tilted it. It might've been night, but the arid climate heat had still lingered on. From the opening of the can, a few final droplets trickled out and into his parched mouth. With that gone, Artrix sighed and desperately looked up for any sign. He had to survive any challenges for one day and night. By dawn, if he hadn't been killed, then he would've qualified for Championship and can proceed to his League Judgement. Of course, he wouldn't actually be slain; it was more like upon the Fields of Justice where he would be revived at some set location.

As he aimlessly wandered, he spotted a flickering light in the nearby cluster of trees. Using all the caution and focus he could gather, he crouched and sneaked towards the source. Behind the density of the trees and ferns, a cove of treasure laid in front of Artrix. A boiling pot of delectable smelling food was cooking over a well-constructed pit formed from cobblestones. An already set tent with the most enticing bedding inside along with a large bucket of fresh water was all laid suspiciously in front of him.

Unsure if this was part of another challenge, divine mercy or just a plain cruel joke, Artrix's hunger and thirst caused him to stumble towards the camp. When he was within feet of the area, he laid completely motionlessly, only turning his head left and right to check for any ambushes. This was too perfect, too coincidental. Then again, he thought, this challenge is all under the dome of Vessaria. It is not impossible for her to give him something in return, an aid of sorts. Yet why would she, this was a survival challenge, why would she do such a thing? But then again, this is a survival and skills challenge, could he really say no to something that could help him survive?

The thoughts tormented Artrix as time dragged on and still, no sign of anything or threat had appeared. The fire had still burned brilliantly, continuously cooking the stew which aroma was nigh irresistible. Its drift lingered seductively around his nose. Every single part of his body screamed for him to accept this gift and forget what everything else. The long, torturous silence had torn away every bit of Artrix's integrity. He would've already had a group of bandits ambush him this very moment rather than starve any longer.

"Those Summoners are such… cruel…" Artrix mumbled to himself.

Unable to hold his temptations any longer and feeling that he had nothing to lose; he entered the camp and tossed away his dignity. With one last, cautious glance sideways, he scooped up some of the aromatic stew which steamed and he promptly devoured it. While not the most delicious dish he has ever tasted, for a man nearing who's starving and near the brink of collapse, it was heaven. While eating, Artrix had mentally compared it to Riven's cooking. He thought they were about similar in taste quality, except Riven has no sense of sugar, salt, or in fact any spices. Now that Artrix had pondered about it some more, he realized that Riven is a bad chef.

After filling his stomach, Artrix reached for the canisters of water and thirstily gulped it down. Feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, Artrix decided to leave the camp as quick as possible. However, as he prepared himself, the set tent and its bedding had caught his glance. For a moment, he felt as if he had completely lost control of his body. The overwhelming feeling of the enticing comfort that the protective tent leaked with had surged through Artrix. He felt his acute sense draining away, leaving his head light and woozy. It was as if he was drunk, drunk with tiredness and the desire to go embrace the bed. When all of his willpower had magically vanished, he found himself inevitably stumbling towards the asylum that it had offered; safe from the wild, the night, and any predators. It had called to him with a soundless voice, and he answered.

Then, blocking out any outside interruptions, he dove into the sea of sheets and burrowed his face into the soft pillows. The embrace of comfort had now completely swallowed Artrix, tearing away the last bits of futile resistance that he had left. As he succumbed to the magic of the tent, his heavy eyelids anchored down and he drifted away, dead to the world.

Something hot was beating down on Artrix's face. He felt the warmth, and an unpleasant light were creeping through his closed eyelids. He didn't want to get up and just remain still but the heat and the burning sensation just grew stronger every second. When pain finally pinched at him, he shot open his eyes and was met with the blinding light of the pure white sun above. Artrix got up and at the first moment realized one, major issue; he was in the middle of a searing desert. The tent, along with the camp and the savannah was nowhere to be found. There were only miles of lifeless sand stretching all across the horizon.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted that…" Artrix said with regret.

The sun above was even more intense than the one yesterday. The boiling heat had caused arrays of mirages to steam up from the sandy grounds. Completely lost and without any sense of direction, Artrix got up and surveyed the desert to his best ability. He was only armed with his single sword and a satchel containing an empty canister. He had neither food, water nor anything at all. Hoping that a miracle, or at the very a conjured settlement would appear, Artrix began to tread forward towards the unknown direction.

Hours after hours, for miles on end, he was only met with an endless sea of hills of sand and a blazing sun above that gazed upon him mercilessly. There was no shade, cover or any refreshments that his eyes could see. The heat had turned his armor into an oven, forcing him to remove and abandon it and eventually the chainmail too, leaving only his tattered white shirt. He was drenched in sweat and soon his walking slowed to a crawl. There was sand in his boots and eyes and accompanied by an undying thirst, had created a near perfect hell for him. His throat was completely dry and no words could escape them.

This torturous ordeal had continued with no sign of an end. Artrix was now crawling at the mercy of the heat and dehydration. Brushing aside the sand, he kept moving forward in one direction. Now, only sheer force of will and his determination to join the League as a Champion had kept him alive and moving. He knew that Riven was giving him every bit of her support and hopes. He will not let her down. Back before, if he was still a god, this humiliation would've been the end of him but now he knows that there is always something to strive for, to achieve. A goal for him to reach despite all of these hardships, and for him, these goals was Riven, and his return from exile.

The sun has now moved down from its apex, slowly lowering towards the horizon but its unrelenting heat still lingered on. As Artrix stumbled, something of hope had caught the corner of his eyes. In a fair distance below the sand hill he was on lays what seemed to be wavering pond. The fresh water was accompanied by several palm trees. The lush colors of the tropical basin had contrasted the lifeless grain color of the vast deserts. His eyes gazed at it with a mixture of hope and despair.

Another trick by the Summoners? Cursed sadists… Artrix thought. He feared that it would be like the tent again, and this time transporting him to a place even worse than this godforsaken desert. His mind was frail and weak from the abuse of the desert. He could no longer clearly reason and he was on the verge of collapse. Without thinking, he stepped forward but his wobbly legs caused him to tumble down the side of the hill, kicking up a trail of cloudy dust.

With several painful moans, he landed at the foot of the hill with a soft thud. He was now bathed in sand, inside his shirt, pants, hair and boots. Despite all of this, he had hoped at the very least that the prize of fresh water was up ahead. However, when he looked up, the pond had faded away into the mirage, leaving him but another cruel view of the unforgiving desert. This was yet another bash to his little strands of hope remaining, however with the little faith that he had left, he tightly grasped onto them and forced his beaten body forward.

The sun had finally set, vanishing into the horizon. Now instead of the inferno that day had brought, a chill matched by the very Freljords had struck Artrix. The only light that gave him the little guidance he had were the stars above. However, he was already lost to begin with. The cold had sent shivers into his spine as he shook uncontrollably. His teeth chattered as he attempted to wrap himself with his own arms. Now, he had regretted taking off his thick armor earlier.

Artrix's legs had already given up on him, as he desperately crawled forward. He was so thirsty that even opening his mouth was an impossible task. His consciousness slipped away, now leaving only but the tiniest strand of clarity within him. He only saw his sandy path ahead and Riven in the back of his mind, silently cheering him on. As the minutes passed, which to Artrix was an eternity, the final bits of his strength slipped from his grasp as he collapsed onto the ground. His eyes began to sew shut as he opening accepted his fate.

"Wake up mister! Wake up!" the voice of a youngling sounded.

Artrix's ears twitched as it grew louder and clearer. His mind slowly returned to him and his eyes opened. They were immediately met with an up close face of a curious boy who spotted bright, brown eyes and fair hair. Freckles had stippled his red cheeks and his lips were in the shape of a beaming smile.

"You are alive! "The boy exclaimed in delight, "Now I need to find the village elder. You stay right here mister."

With that, the boy hurried out of the hut. Artrix, who was more confused than ever, surveyed his surroundings. He found that he was in a small, circular hut with straws for a roof and roughly crafted stones for everything else. He was lying on a bed of hay which was surprisingly comfortable, albeit the occasional itches that it had caused.

The sounds of shuffling footsteps and a cane striking the ground filled the hut. At the entrance, which was mere a hanging piece of cloth was opened by an elderly woman and accompanied by the young boy. Instantly, a sense of wisdom seeped from her as her aged white hair was tied back and held up in an intricate decoration and she was adorned in fur. Every bit of her said spirituality as she limped and set aside her cane.

"You must be the one who fainted in the deserts," the woman began. "You are most fortunate that we had found you. If not, you would've perished long ago in the mercy of the Shurima Deserts."

Artrix was puzzled. He was in the Shurima Deserts? How could it be?

"I humbly thank you for saving my life, but, I was in north of the Great Divide before. How could I have ended up here?" Artrix asked. He was unsure if this was still part of his challenge or not, for everything seemed too real.

"Our people are the sand dwellers, we have been adapted to the graceful deserts for many generations now," the woman spoke, "yet you are not, you are foreign of these harsh lands."

The boy bartered in. He seemed to be glowing with life and joy. "That's right mister, you need to be more careful. And sandier."

"We do not know how you arrived here, but you can be certain that our hospitality will be utmost impeccable. Perhaps you would like to stay until you find your way home?"

"Are you not part of the challenges?" Artrix asked.

The woman was confused. "Challenges? There have not been any challenges to our indigenous people since our settlement. But, like I said, rest and enjoy your stay. If you require aid, then ask one of our scholars. Perhaps their magical talents can help you find your way home."

The woman then gently bowed, took her cane and exited from the help of the boy. Artrix was still trying to piece together everything. He then got up from his haystack and peered outside an opening in his hut. He found that he was in midst of a rudimentary village which was adapted to the harsh sands. More buildings constructed of simple clay and mud were scattered all over the place. Racks and wooden trays were littered about with the villagers tending to them. Everyone was dressed in animal hide and leather which must've been from a bison stock nearby. Around the corner he saw groups of children happily enjoying themselves in their own, creative games.

Artrix was about to exit the hut when he realized that he too was dressed in attire similar to the villagers. His sandy clothing and heavy boots from earlier had disappeared, only his belt, sword and scabbard had remained. He took his equipment and walked out in his refreshing sandals which allowed the gentle breeze to brush his toes. The village was buzzing with life and activities. Every person had their own job, or entertainment. As he took a moment to absorb all of this, the young boy suddenly returned to his side.

"Mister! Hey mister!" the boy said, tugging at his side. Artrix, who was slightly startled, looked down and saw the same boy from earlier.

"Hello there, what do you want?" Artrix said.

"You sword looks so, big, so brave!" the boy exclaimed with glee. He was eyeing Artrix's blade, and tugging at it which made him turn around to escape his grasp.

"That's a no touchy there, wouldn't want you to get hurt," Artrix said as if talking to an infant.

The boy's beaming expression seemed to fade for a second, which somewhat made Artrix felt a little guilty. Then, he realized that his lips were dry and was thirsty. He quickly glanced around for a water source but could not spot any.

"You are thirsty, aren't you mister?" the boy said.

"Yes, I am actually," Artrix said.

"I can bring you to some water! Follow me!"

Artrix agreed as he was led by the prancing boy who seemed delighted at being able to help this stranger. He jumped with bustling energy as they left the mass of people and into the outskirts of the village. There, only a few huts remained and single wooden stick had protruded from the sands ahead.

"Right there, let's go!" the boy said, tugging at Artrix's arm.

When they arrived, Artrix had expected something more. Yet, he was met with a mere stick, with no specialities on it whatsoever. For a second, he had thought where the water was but came up empty.

"Don't know how it works?" the boy probed, sensing Artrix's bafflement.

"I do not know how a mere piece of wood can get water," Artrix replied.

The boy's smile widened as he got to work. "Like this mister!"

The boy crouched beside the stick and pressed his ear on it as if listening to it speak. His earlier joyous expression was now replaced by a sense of deep focus. For a moment, all was silent when suddenly they boy shot up and kicked the stick as hard as he could. Then, eventually, trickles of water dripped down from the top of the stick which soon turned into small streams.

"Here we go mister! Drink up," the boy said, delighted at his success.

Artrix leaned close to the stick and cupped his hands under it, which gathered a pool of water as he thirstily gulped it. The water was cold, crisp and sweet and instantly washed away the dryness in his throat. He felt absolutely refreshed as a soothing chill coursed through his hot body.

"That's marvellous, how does it work?" Artrix asked.

"The sands of the Shurima Desert are super magical! Water flows underneath and this stick is set to draw it upwards. You have to listen to it, and when a gush flows, that's the time to kick!"

Artrix was amused by this young boy's intelligence and craftiness. His joyfulness was infectious as it caused a faint smile on Artrix's lips.

"You mister, you are one big stranger. There aren't many strangers around, that's why I am so happy. To see a new face,' the boy said.

"You know I have a name, and it's Artrix."

The boy leaped into the air, enchanted by learning his name.

"And I have one too, Artrix," the boy said, emphasizing his name, "It is Rithuso."

Artrix pondered at the name for a moment. "Rithuso it is."

Rithuso clapped his hands and began to run around Artrix with his arms behind him like an aircraft's wings. He imitated the sounds of the engines and continuously circled Artrix. When he saw no response from Artrix, he stopped with a frown on his face.

"Why are you not defending yourself? Artrix," Rithuso said.

"What?"

"I am attacking you, you should be defending youself!"

Artrix then realized that this was a game. He felt reluctant in playing it, but he felt that he could not refuse this boy who was bustling with energy. Besides, he knew that he had nothing to do except consulting those scholars the elder had told of him earlier. And that could come tomorrow.

"Alright, fine. Go ahead, resume your attack," Artrix said in a playful tone. Rithuso squealed in delight and began circling him again, this time making gunfire noises. Artrix got up and pretended to be a large monster, slowly trying to swipe at the moving plane. However, it could not for the combined fire and speed of the plane was too great for him, causing his demise and finally collapsing onto the sands.

"Defeated already? You must be a terrible monster Artrix," Rithuso said.

"I'm not a good monster, with my humblest apologies," Artrix jokingly said.

Soon, they resumed the game in different themes, and switching sides as the attacker and defenders. Without realizing it, night had already fast approached as their time waltzed by. The villagers gathered for their feast in the centre of the village as a massive fire built in the middle was slowly and deliciously roasting a massive bison. There was enough meat on it was everyone, and even for seconds.

The elders were all seated respectably in a long table set slightly above everyone else. The massive fire in the middle had lit up the whole village as everyone was seated around it. All the villagers knew each other well except for the newcomer. One of them had mentioned Artrix and called him up for a toast.

"Newcomer! Join us, we are most happy to have someone new here," a large, bearded man who resembled the tribe's hunter said, holding up his clayish grail.

Artrix had been given a grail too which was filled with an unknown alcohol, he had not drank any of it and didn't want too for he had wished for a clear mind tomorrow morning so that he could consult the scholars.

"I do not prefer a drink," Artrix said. The man looks upset and walked down to him.

"Come on, let's not ruin the atmosphere here. My friend, you are everyone's friend, and everyone wants you to have a nice drink, don't we all," the man said and looked around, who was met with approving nods.

"Well…"

"Let's give a hand to our newcomer, Artrix!"

With a sturdy gulp, Artrix downed the liquid in one go and tossed his empty grail onto the floor. A series of appraise and claps had sounded around the pit. A slight dizziness that coursed Artrix, but it was nothing compared to Gragas' drinks of near death.

"Another my friend?" the bearded man offered.

Artrix held his hand up in a gesture of rejection, which this time was kindly accepted by the man. The feast then resumed as Artrix returned to his seat. The bison was done and two large men with massive cleavers walked over to it and hacked off chunks of roasted meat and served it to everyone. As a gesture of kindness, Artrix the newcomer was first to receive the meat. Then it was the elders and finally the rest of the villagers.

Artrix bit into the juicy meat which was roasted to perfection, every bit of it exploded in delightful flavours in his mouth. He then took another bite when Rithuso appeared behind him.

"You like it?" he asked Artrix.

Artrix, who was surprised and nearly choked on the meat, coughed and then forcefully swallowed it.

"You need to stop creeping up on others, Rithuso," Artrix said.

"Everyone's used to it, except you I guess."

Artrix offered some of the meat to the boy, but he had already eaten his portions and was full. The rest of the feast was an arrangement of dances, entertainments and plays created at the last second in this joyous night. It was relaxing and Artrix found that he was enjoying every moment at it. Several times, he was called to the stage in which he had embarrassed himself in his attempts at singing and dancing. However, none of it mattered as everyone had their fun and laughs. The night had ended with the feast, Artrix helped part of the clean-up before retiring to his hut which was the same as the earlier one.

As he lay in his hay bed, thoughts raced through his mind. Will he ever be able to return to the Institute? Will he be able to see Riven again? He had cringed at the mere thought at losing her, but most importantly, abandoning her. He couldn't even bare to think what she would've felt if he had just vanished, disappeared from her. However, the most perplexing thought of all was what were the Summoners doing. Had they sent him here on purpose, or perhaps there was an accident involving him being teleported to the middle of a desert, and nearly dying.

Artrix had decided that he needed his rest for tomorrow and forced the thoughts out of his mind and shutting his eyes. Now, only the crackling sounds of a few fires of lanterns outside had echoed quietly in his hut.

The morning felt the same as yesterdays; the villagers were at their usual business again and the sounds of life buzzed vivaciously. However, there was no sign of Rithuso this time. Artrix asked a few of the villagers for directions to the scholars who were housed in an Arcanium, studying the art of magic and the Shurima Desert.

The Arcanium was yet another clayish hut, this time however it was easily several times that of his own. Asides of the size, there were no other indications that it was a place of magic and studies. He entered the hut and found rows of stone shelves which housed dusty books of all variety. Busy scholars were studying and examining all sorts of scrolls, books and interesting trinkets they had uncovered in the sands. In some way, this hut felt similar to the Grand Library in Ionia, except on a much smaller scale.

Up ahead, a relatively young scholar who had glasses with cracked lens and bent frames was placing a few books back into the shelves. He was too short for the high cases, forcing him to uncomfortably tiptoe to barely slide the books back into place. Seeming him in stress, Artrix rushed over and aided him by using his tall stature to place them back in.

The scholar was surprised. "Oh, you are that newcomer, uh…. Artrix, right, that's the name. Thanks for the help."

"My pleasure. This is the Arcanium am I correct?" Artrix asked.

The eager scholar nodded as if anticipating Artrix's arrival.

"I have been informed that you wish to consult with our magic in hopes of returning home."

Artrix's hope returned, partially due to the enthusiasm that the scholar was showing.

"But….. We haven't found much information on it yet. It is truly a peculiar case you have. Disappearing in a place and suddenly reappearing here, none of us have ever heard of such curiosity."

Artrix sighed deeply, now wondering if he could ever return.

"However, we still have many books and resources we have yet to use. Perhaps you would like to stay and study for a while, in hopes of finding the answer?"

"I suppose I should, thank you for your efforts," Artrix said. The scholar bowed and returned to his duties of maintaining the Arcanium. Artrix walked over to a random shelf and began his selection of books and scrolls. Many of them were in unreadable Shuriman language while some has decayed to a point beyond recognition. Compared to the Grand Library, this Arcanium was very, poorly managed. But then again, it is impressive enough already to a tribe a sand people to even possess an Arcanium.

Just as Artrix started shuffling through the books, an ear shattering clash followed by shrill screams outside had ringed in the Arcanium.

"Sand Bandits, run!"