Kaelen remained prostrated for what felt like an eternity.

  The heat of the sun was no longer an annoyance.

  He could feel the grief even before death came for his people.

  I was a fool! Kaelen thought, his claws digging into the hot sand.

  If he had known that brief conversation yesterday would be his only chance to beg the Sovereign for help, he would never have fled like a frightened hatchling.

  Now, the silence of the Ziggurat felt like a final decree.

  “Kaelen… please. Let’s leave.” One of the scouts behind him whispered hoarsely, his throat dry from all the shouting. “The Sovereign heard us yesterday and allowed us to live. If we stay longer, the next answer will be death…”

  Kaelen did not reply. He was about to give in, to rise with his exhausted body and lead his group back, when a sound echoed out.

  Creeeeeaaaaak—

  It was the familiar sound of the colossal gates moving—heavy, deep, and ancient.

  The entire group froze.

  Kaelen snapped his head up, a painful spark of hope igniting in his amber eyes.

  It was opening.

  Kaelen fixed his gaze on the widening gap in the gates, expecting to see the small silhouette of Pippin and his crooked top hat.

  He was ready to thank him—to cry with relief before the little servant who had promised help.

  Bzzzzzzzzzz!

  But the first thing he heard was a strange buzzing. It was a sharp, vibrating sound that seemed to slice through the heavy desert air.

  Kaelen frowned in confusion; the noise kept getting louder, a constant frequency that made his teeth vibrate.

  Could that little servant make a sound like that?

  Before Kaelen could continue the thought, what emerged from the shadows of the Ziggurat answered his question, making the air freeze in his lungs.

  It wasn’t Pippin.

  Three figures emerged from the darkness within, walking out of the Sovereign’s domain with terrifying calm.

  The figure leading them was a mountain of crimson metal. The armor was thick, made of overlapping plates that looked fused together, with no visible gaps at the joints. The helmet was smooth, with a narrow horizontal slit where no eyes could be seen—only a deep void.

  In one hand he carried a massive tower shield, and in the other, a broad and heavy sword.

  Behind him followed a humanoid mass of gray flesh and crude stitches.

  The creature was disproportionate, with arms far too long and a wide torso where the skin appeared crudely patched together with dark thread.

  It wore no clothes—only exposed muscle tissue and the bulging scars that held its body together. Its face was a mask of stitched fragments, its jaw clamped together by metal staples that kept it frozen in a permanently rigid expression.

  Hovering above them, beating its wings so fast they were almost invisible, was the source of the buzzing.

  BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ—VRRRRRRRRRRRR!

  The sound shifted from a steady buzz to a violent vibration.

  It was an insect of grotesque proportions, with a long segmented body encased in a rigid black exoskeleton.

  Four long translucent wings kept the creature hovering almost motionless in the air, while six legs tipped with hooked claws dangled beneath it.

  Its eyes—dark globes reflecting sunlight in a distorted way—watched the group with sudden, twitching movements of its head.

  Kaelen took a step back, the relief dying in his throat.

  THUMP!

  The sound of metal boots hitting the sand was muffled by the violent beating of the insect’s wings, compacting the ground with each step.

  The crimson-armored figure advanced like a war machine, every plate of his armor gleaming beneath the sun as he walked toward Kaelen.

  THUMP!

  Even though the Cindralisks were tall creatures, nearly two meters in height, the knight leading them was an aberration, easily reaching three meters tall.

  And the stitched flesh monster behind him was no smaller.

  THUMP!

  The sound grew louder with each step, the metal plates of the knight’s armor clashing softly against one another as Kaelen’s heart began to race.

  He couldn’t move. Panic replaced his joy in the span of a heartbeat.

  He sent us to die.

  That was the only thought left.

  Kaelen should have understood the message of the silence. His insistence had offended the Sovereign, and now the executioners had arrived.

  His legs simply refused to obey. He stood frozen as the crimson knight approached.

  THUMP!

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  With each heavy step, the sand sank beneath the weight of the massive armor.

  Finally, the figure stopped in front of him.

  The giant’s shadow swallowed Kaelen entirely, blocking out the sun. Kaelen had to tilt his head all the way back just to look at the knight’s faceless helmet.

  He swallowed hard.

  His legs began to tremble.

  Damn it… not again!

  A sudden anger rose within him at his own weakness—the same weakness he had felt before the Sovereign. He was an elite warrior of his tribe, yet before these beings he was nothing more than a grain of sand.

  Kaelen closed his eyes without saying a word, waiting for the final blow.

  Waiting for that massive figure to crush his skull and end it quickly.

  “Lead us to your nest.”

  The voice that emerged from the armor was deep, metallic, and devoid of any human emotion.

  “The Sovereign has decreed your protection.”

  Kaelen remained still.

  What?

  He slowly opened his eyes, staring stupidly at the chest of the red armor. Kaelen had expected a brutal death. The word protection refused to register in his mind within such a scene.

  “P-protection…?” Kaelen stammered unconsciously, his voice fading.

  The Sanguine Knight did not repeat the order. He simply stood there—a wall of crimson metal—waiting for the lizard to move.

  Behind him, the massive stitched creature arrived. The Sutured stopped like a patched block of stone, releasing a dry metallic odor. Above them, the Dragonfly Hunter descended in a low flight, hovering only a few meters above the ground.

  The powerful wind generated by its four translucent wings sent sand flying wildly around them, forming a vortex that blinded anyone who tried to approach.

  Kaelen and his companions were forced to step back, their feet dragging through the soft sand as they struggled to keep their balance.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, bending his body and raising his arm to shield his face from the violent gusts that carried grains of sand.

  “The Sovereign… he heard us?” Kaelen shouted over the buzzing, peeking through his fingers at his companions, who were just as stunned and hunched as he was.

  “Hurry.”

  The powerful voice of the Sanguine Knight echoed again, snapping Kaelen back to his senses.

  “Yes… yes, sir!” he exclaimed, recovering some of his composure, though his hands still trembled as he picked up his spear from the sand.

  “Follow me, please! The tribe… the tribe is this way…”

  ***

  The desert to the south smelled of ozone and burnt flesh.

  At the center of a basin of dunes, a colossal Sandworm—a creature that would normally require a group of experienced Silver-Rank adventurers just to avoid—was being dragged out of the ground by chains of solid light embedded in its flesh like the hooks of a slaughterhouse.

  Skreeeeeeh!

  Around the monster, figures clad in immaculate white armor with golden details moved with mechanical precision and cruelty.

  There was no battle.

  Only execution.

  The operation was massive in scale: dozens of other worm corpses, some even larger, lay scattered across the basin, reduced to blackened carcasses.

  Whenever one of the creatures tried to burrow back underground or retaliate with a desperate charge, the chains of light tightened, burning its flesh until it was dragged helplessly to the surface.

  Gurrrr—Thump!

  It was a massacre.

  When another ten-meter worm was ripped from the depths, writhing in silent agony, a calm and icy voice echoed from the rear.

  “Incinerate.”

  In perfect unison, twelve men wearing reinforced robes and wielding catalysts pulsing with radiant energy raised their hands.

  With a blinding flash, a tiny artificial “sun” was born between them and descended upon the creature.

  VUUUUUUUUUUUM — CRACKLE!

  Within seconds, the worm became a charred statue, cracking apart and disintegrating under a gust of wind.

  At the center of the camp, beneath a white silk tent that magically repelled the scorching heat, a man sat on a campaign chair.

  His appearance was fierce; thin scars crossed a face of sharp features and a prominent jaw, yet his expression remained strangely serene and almost merciful.

  The man didn’t even bother to look at the carcass that had just been pulverized.

  He was busy methodically polishing a sword, its inscriptions glowing softly with each movement of the cloth.

  A subordinate approached him with rigid posture and an expressionless face.

  “General.” The soldier spoke, striking his fist against his chest in formal salute. “The local nests have been cleared. The purification of this sector is complete.”

  The man in the chair paused his polishing for a brief moment, his pale eyes reflecting the golden metal of the blade.

  The desert around them was now silent, devoid of life.

  “And?”

  The guard hesitated before continuing, his posture faltering slightly.

  “However… sir, one of the squads allowed several Cindralisks to escape. We failed to locate one of their secondary nests underground.”

  The General frowned, the movement twisting the scars on his face. The serene expression vanished, replaced by an invisible pressure that made the air beneath the tent feel heavy.

  “What happened? My men do not usually lose the trail of crawling vermin.”

  “The vice-commander leading the front-line purification unit reported that they encountered an unexpected brood of Red-Tailed Scorpions. The nest was camouflaged beneath the Cindralisks’ route. We suffered casualties, which caused delays in securing the area.”

  The General shifted slightly, the polished armor creaking softly.

  But at that exact moment, a magical device on the table chimed with a sharp crystalline sound.

  The voice of the vice-commander came through, filled with triumph and anticipation.

  “General, we have located the main settlement. We’ve found the Cindralisk tribe!”

  The General glanced from the device to the soldier who had just reported the failure.

  A cold half-smile formed on his fierce face.

  “You heard him?” he said calmly. “Finish clearing the area and gather the soldiers. We are moving to the next sector immediately.”

  “Y-yes, sir!”

  The soldier quickly made a gesture, placing his hand over his chest in the shape of a sun before turning away with firm steps.

  Under his orders, the camp became a hive of white and gold activity as the soldiers prepared to bring the “light” to yet another monster refuge.

  The General rose from his seat, his golden armor ringing with a crystalline tone that seemed to resonate with the sunlight itself.

  He stepped outside the tent, and the camp—previously bustling with activity—froze in collective reverence.

  Without saying a word, he mounted his warhorse.

  Unlike ordinary horses that would succumb to the heat, or the beasts of burden merchants used in the desert, this animal was from an elite bloodline bred specifically for imperial campaigns.

  Its physiology was adapted to extreme heat, and its lungs possessed a resilience that ignored the choking desert dust.

  Every soldier rode one.

  The group quickly set out in the direction reported by the vice-commander.

  On the horizon, the gleam of armor from an advanced unit marked the rendezvous point.

  “General Valerius!”

  The shout came from a young man who stood out among the rest.

  He dismounted with athletic agility, removing his helmet to reveal a face that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves—symmetrical features, sun-bronzed skin, and golden hair.

  He was the vice-commander.

  The very embodiment of the Empire’s elite, exuding confidence bordering on arrogance.

  “Lucius,” the General replied, his deep voice cutting through the young man’s enthusiasm. “The report mentioned delays. What exactly happened on the front line?”

  Lucius smirked, brushing a patch of dust from his breastplate before pointing toward the gray expanse ahead.

  “A small inconvenience with some scorpions, General. Nothing the flames of purification couldn’t handle,” Lucius explained briefly before gesturing toward one of his subordinates holding a crystal staff.

  “My scouts used the [Solar Aether Link]. We managed to mark the residual heat trail of a group of Cindralisks that escaped. They’re moving fast, but the trail is clear as day.”

  However, the vice-commander frowned slightly as he looked toward the indicated direction, genuine curiosity crossing his handsome face.

  “The strange part, General, is where they’re going. They’re heading deep into the Ashen Desert. The mana in that region is becoming extremely unstable… the catalysts’ readings are fluctuating. And the winds…”

  Lucius grimaced as a gust of dry wind blew past, carrying heavy gray sand that bounced off his armor with metallic pings.

  “These winds are becoming a nuisance for the soldiers. The sand there is denser. It’s almost as if the desert itself is trying to repel us the deeper we advance into that dead zone. Why would cold-blooded monsters choose such a hostile place to hide?”

  Valerius stared toward the horizon, where a haze of gray sand began to obscure the base of the dunes.

  The change was noticeable.

  “Gather the Vanguard,” the General murmured, his gloved hands tightening on the reins.

  “We advance.”

  “Yes, sir!"