The Vast Changes

Elsewhere, some dozen kilometers away, two vehicles had stopped in a sheltered spot. Two vehicles, two people.

The two of them sat by the fire. All around was deathly still, save for the howling wind, enough to make one's hair stand on end.

By rights, such a lofty mission as seeking traces of the age of gods should never have fallen to two newcomers who had only just joined the organization's outer ranks.

In fact, the arrangement made at the organization's meeting had been for several major bosses to handle it.

But times were changing. As businessmen, the bosses all knew how to move with the times. Asking them to spend the least money—or even pay out of their own pockets—to race desert buggies through the sand was a joke. So, they chose to outsource it.

After layer upon layer of outsourcing, the original budget of three hundred thousand had become one hundred thousand, and the number of participants had dwindled to two.

Newcomers were the sort who had dreams—and were still far too young.

After the higher-ups fed them a rousing line of nonsense, saying things like, "Such a crucial mission is being entrusted to you brothers because the organization thinks highly of you,"

In short, after all that slick talk, the two dream-filled young men had actually paid out of their own pockets and come running eagerly to carry out the mission.

At the same time, in order to save money, they had not hired a guide. Instead, they crammed for a few days on desert survival knowledge, decided they had what it took, and set off.

"Bro, I miss home."

At last, the slightly chubbier young man spoke. As he did, he shuddered and sneezed.

"I kind of miss it too. How about..."

The other young man