Deep within the heart of the Jasmine Desert, an S-rank adventuring party faced the most humiliating defeat of their careers. A knight, two mages, a monk, and an archer—all elite warriors of the Kingdom of Waves—now lay battered and broken before the towering figure of their conqueror.
He stood nine feet tall, his skin the color of obsidian sands, with four powerful arms shackled in glowing chains. His only clothing: white harem pants that danced with spiritual energy. A massive tattoo of a fig tree sprawled across his muscular back, roots and branches etched in divine ink. His eyes were haunting—white irises swallowed in pools of black sclera—with a single black tear streak tattooed from eye to chin.
His name was Ishmael—the Ginn of the Black Desert Sands. A guardian crafted by forgotten hands. A living relic of power.
With heavy steps, Ishmael approached the fallen party and looked down at them in disdain.
> "Is this what the Kingdom of Waves has to offer?"
"These are your so-called 'strongest warriors'? Pathetic. I've had more fun squashing the bugs that crawl through my dungeon."
The knight—an older, bearded man clad in dented platinum armor—used his longsword as a crutch to stand. Blood trickled down his temple.
> "Please… spare us," he rasped. "We only came for the noblemen who were lost in your dungeon. We didn't mean to desecrate your domain. Just… tell us where their bodies are, and we'll leave."
Ishmael narrowed his eyes, ready to crush them where they stood. But then… he saw it. A torn robe revealed a tattoo on the monk's shoulder—a fig tree encircled by three rings.
The Ginn froze. That symbol…
It was familiar.
> "That mark… Could it be?" he murmured.
With a stomp, the dungeon around them transformed. The rocky cavern morphed into a majestic hall of polished granite and sacred gemstones. Emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds shimmered in the walls. A grand throne emerged, carved with statues of lions, sheep, and tigers—each weeping or roaring in eternal pain.
Ishmael sat upon his throne and addressed the intruders once more.
> "The noblemen you seek are dead. Torn apart by my pet, Terra, a ground dragon who patrols the Vault. Clearly, they broke the seals and tampered with the Ancient Artifact. As long as I remain guardian, no one may leave with it."
The knight clenched his fists but bowed his head. He knew they had no leverage.
> "Then we have no more business here. Let us go, and we will never return."
But Ishmael chuckled, voice echoing like thunder across the chamber.
> "Do you think me a fool? If I let you go, you'll return with an army. A thousand of you wouldn't change the outcome."
The knight's face turned pale. "But you said we may be allowed to leave…"
> "I said may," Ishmael repeated. "But only if your answers please me."
His eyes locked onto the monk.
> "You. Step forward. What is your name and your clan?"
The monk limped toward the throne, bruised and dirt-covered. "Solomon. Of the Lapis Garden Clan."
Ishmael's lips curled in slight disappointment.
> "Lapis Garden? That's not the one... Wait. What's your relation to the Eden Clan?"
Solomon nodded. "Lapis Garden is what remains of the Eden Clan. We merged centuries ago."
Ishmael leaned forward. "A half-breed then… Disappointing. But perhaps… usable." He glanced toward the white-haired mage. "She's one of yours as well?"
Solomon nodded again.
> "Very well. Two half-breeds… That should suffice." Ishmael stood, voice thunderous once more. "The rest of you may leave. These two will stay."
The young mage, Rose, trembled. She slowly stepped forward, visibly terrified. The knight tried to block her path.
> "You can't take them. What do you want with them?!"
Ishmael's eyes darkened. "You dare question me? After invading my domain and attempting to steal my artifact?"
The knight pleaded. "We only came for the nobles. We had no intention of harming you—"
In a blur, Ishmael dashed forward and lifted the knight by the throat.
> "Would you forgive me if I stormed into your home, killed your kin, and claimed I was just following orders?!"
The party prepared to fight, but a wave of pressure pinned them to the floor.
> "Stay down!" Ishmael roared.
Solomon raised his hand. "I'll stay. Let them go."
Rose added, voice cracking, "I-I'll stay too… just let them leave."
A soft smile returned to Ishmael's face.
> "Understood."
A cold, blue flame ignited around the remaining party members. It didn't burn, but rather chilled to the bone. Within moments, they vanished—teleported to the dungeon gates, a glowing sigil now etched onto their hands.
The knight slammed his fist against the ground. "We need to go back!"
But the archer stopped him.
> "If we try again now… we'll die. Let's return to the guild. We'll need a full raid team."
The knight nodded reluctantly, heart heavy with defeat.
---
Back inside, Ishmael released the pressure holding Rose and Solomon down.
> "Now that the pests are gone… let's speak properly."
Rose approached, trembling, her deep violet robe swaying as she walked. Ishmael observed her, not with lust—but curiosity. She bore the same markings… the same blood.
> "Your name?" he asked gently.
> "R-Rose," she answered.
The Ginn smiled and shrunk his size down to a more human six feet.
> "There's no need to fear me. I only wish to make a deal."
Solomon stepped forward. "What kind of deal?"
> "Long ago, your clan created me—one of many Ginns—designed to protect this dungeon and its artifact until the war between Eden and Lapis was over. But your clans… merged. So I consider my task complete."
> "And now?" Solomon asked.
> "Now I wish to leave. But I can't do it without a host. You two… will carry me. I'll divide my power between you. Just enough so you don't die."
Solomon frowned. "If your task was done, why didn't your superiors release you?"
> "I don't know," Ishmael hissed. "Maybe they forgot. Maybe they're dead. Either way, I'm done waiting."
Solomon sighed, already predicting the worst. "There's definitely a failsafe. It won't be that easy…"
Ishmael raised his hands to the sky, power crackling.
> "Let's begin. Sink into the eternal world of dreams and servitude… KASUER!"
The ground split.
A black and purple portal erupted from beneath their feet. Three massive spectral hands burst forth, grabbing them all and dragging them into the void.
---
Chapter 2: The Price of Freedom
Darkness.
Solomon and Rose floated in a sea of shadows. Tendrils pierced their skin, leaking dark essence into their veins. Their eyes glowed violet. Tear-streak tattoos emerged on their cheeks.
And then—a voice.
> "Trying to escape again, Ishmael?"
> "OLD MAN!" Ishmael roared from the void. "The war is over! The clans merged! Let me go!"
> "You fool. They merged because a greater threat loomed. You were never dismissed."
> "Then I'll leave anyway!"
The fig tree tattoo on Ishmael's back ignited. He screamed in pain.
> "Did you think the tattoo was decoration? Disobey… and you all die. Finish the fusion and report to the Temple of Edom with the artifact. We'll discuss your new mission there."
> "DAMN YOU, OLD MAN!!"
---
With a final pulse of light, the black hands placed them outside the dungeon. Rose curled into a ball, sobbing. Solomon stood, clutching his chest.
> "I knew it… I knew there'd be a catch."
Then, a voice echoed in their minds.
> "I'M THAT DAMN OLD BASTARD'S SLAVE AGAIN—AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!"