Go towards Old Koe.

You make your way towards the old man, straining with each step. He nods to you as you come closer, his eyes glance towards his pocket then back to you. You kneel, unsure if you'll be able to stand again, and look through the pockets. Inside you find a strange looking key, it's twisted and covered in purple crystals. Old Koe faints from the effort. You clutch the key and make way towards the outpost. Your senses feel distorted, the atmosphere feels ominous, like it's breathing down your neck. You move on, the outpost is a half mile away from the town, you take deep breaths, trying to steady your mind against the horrible onslaught of vibrations. The way to the outpost is fraught with dust devils and whipping winds, the sheer **** of the gales are enough to throw you back several feet at a time. At times you're **** to crawl towards your destination, pelted by pebbles and grips of sand. Once you reach the outpost you determine yourself to find some damned goggles, and a thick jacket. The pressure feels lighter here, you hurry and scrounge up some resources. Thankfully there's a locker with all the things you'll need, including a brown leather jacket, a pair of cracked white goggles, and a tin of purified water. Hopefully you won't be needing to drink that.

Outside you find the glider bike, it's an older model but it's in good condition. The metal frame seems sturdy and when you turn the handle both repulsors light up with a burst and then ease into a slow purr. You put on your jacket and strap on your goggles.

More sand, more wind, and more of that same feeling that something very bad is going to happen. You grit your jaw, this is no time to be having doubts. The Red Mountains are twenty miles from the small town, you whizz off into the dusty plains of Galtor 7 trying to ignore the hellish rumbling that clatters through your skeleton.

Twenty miles later.

The glider bike comes to a slow halt as you power it off, the repulsors let off a soft sigh as the metal sinks into the sand below. Your lungs burn and your legs and arms feel like noodles, the wind buffeted you every inch of the way here, and your body is beginning to feel it. Or maybe it's the deep vibrations coming from the mountains that's causing you such distress. You're unsure, reality feels completely distorted here, like the shadows are filled with hateful eyes, looking at you, laughing, planning. You stumble forward, you're out of your depth, whatever is causing these horrid tremors is surely beyond your ken.

Something urges you to keep going. A small piece of you yearns to know. It isn't the ****, it's you, the purest expression of you there is, unbridled determination, begging curiosity, and wanton bravery. You climb the Red Mountains, following a treacherous trail that leads to the peak. The soft red dirt of the mountains is difficult to tread upon, each footstep sinks in at least an inch before yielding any solid pathing. Still you persevere, you haven't spotted any of the feral beasts that Old Koe mentioned, perhaps they too are waylaid from the tremors. As you climb the mountains the feelings of unease begin to grow worse and worse, now almost palpable. You swear you can hear whispers on the air, drifting along from cliff peak to cliff peak, tempting you to jump to the rocky depths below, ridiculing your efforts, and mocking your spirit. There's no waving them off, so you simply listen, perhaps they're right. You have no worth, you have no skill, no power, and no prestige. What makes you think you can conquer the Red Mountains?

More climbing, you can't recall how long you've been at it, the journey here seems like a far off memory, even the small town doesn't feel like it exists. You laugh to yourself, you must be going looney. You look down off the edge of the path, the view is staggering. So high up. You feel dizzy just trying to take it in, you step backwards. No more looking down, you sigh and keep climbing. Whatever determination you had, has ebbed away now, drowned by the tyrant like bellows coming from the utmost peak of the mountains. What's left spurring you forth is your secret. You fall to one knee, one question raging in your mind.