Chapter 207: The Ploy

Thoren had already dismissed his mount before making his way up the dune on foot. The moment he sensed the disturbance; he knew the source of the noise lay just beyond the crest.

The wind carried faint echoes shouts, clashes, and something far more primal.

Violence.

“Hmm…”

Reaching the top, he paused.

What greeted him caused his eyes to widen slightly.

A battlefield.

Dust billowed into the air, forming a hazy curtain that blurred the chaos below. Deep craters scarred the sand, as though something powerful had repeatedly slammed into the ground.

In the midst of it all, a group of humans dressed in worn tattered clothing, some with broken armor fought desperately against a pack of beasts.

Just then, a notification appeared before Thoren’s eyes.

[Sand Hound]

[Level: 1]

[Attributes: Strength 48, Constitution 44, Agility 52, Spirit 10, Defense 40]

[Trait (1): Sand Veil – Partially merges with the sand, increasing evasion by 15% and reducing detection.]

[Trait (2): Desert Endurance – Gains +10% Constitution and reduced stamina consumption in desert environments.]

[Skills (1): Dune Pounce – Leaps from beneath the sand to strike with surprise and increased damage.]

[Skills (2): Razor Fang Bite – A swift bite that inflicts bleeding over time.]

[Skills (3): Sand Skitter – Rapid movement across sand, leaving afterimages that confuse enemies.]

Thoren’s gaze sharpened. The difference was immediate.

“These beasts…” he muttered.

Unlike the creatures on the first floor, these Sand Hounds did not rely solely on traits.

They had skills.

Multiple skills.

That alone drastically increased their threat level. Even at the same level, their combat effectiveness had multiplied several times over.

The second floor truly was on another level.

“Ahhhhh!”

A piercing scream tore through the battlefield.

Thoren’s attention snapped toward the source.

A young bald man had collapsed onto the sand, his face twisted in agony. Half of his left arm was gone, torn clean off. Blood poured from the wound like a broken dam, soaking into the sand beneath him.

Fear consumed his expression.

Panic followed.

Before he could even crawl away, a Sand Hound lunged forward, its jaws opening wide to finish him off.

Flash!

A blade cut through the air.

The beast was sent flying, crashing into the sand several meters away.

“Fall back!” a young woman shouted.

She had a black scarf tied around her arm, marking her as the leader. Her voice was sharp, commanding, cutting through the chaos.

The group reacted instantly.

They retreated, forming a tight defensive circle, their backs pressed together.

“Captain…” one of them said, his voice trembling. “What do we do now?”

The atmosphere grew heavy.

Oppressive.

The young woman, their captain, scanned the endless desert, searching for any possible escape. But there was none.

Only sand.

Endless, merciless sand.

The Sand Hounds did not give them time to think. They circled their prey, low growls rumbling in their throats before they lunged again in unison.

“Get back!” a burly man roared.

Covered in bruises and blood, he stepped forward, raising his battered shield.

Bang!

He blocked the incoming attack, but the force pushed him back several steps. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Behind him, the others fought desperately to keep the beasts at bay.

But their movements were slowing.

Their attacks losing strength.

Their bodies reaching their limits.

With every passing second, their situation worsened.

“Over there!” the captain suddenly shouted, pointing toward a distant dune.

“Move!”

Her teammates hesitated for a fraction of a second, confusion flickering across their faces.

They were surrounded by an endless desert.

Where exactly were they supposed to run?

But hesitation meant death.

Without questioning her, they turned and ran toward the largest dune in sight.

Standing atop that very dune, Thoren frowned.

Without a word, he began to step back. He had no intention of getting involved.

He had just arrived on the second floor. He knew nothing about this place, nothing about these people, and nothing about the dangers lurking beyond what he could see.

Getting entangled with strangers was unnecessary.

Risky.

Troublesome.

But just as he turned to leave, the sounds of battle grew louder.

Closer.

His frown deepened.

“They’re coming this way…”

He did not stop moving.

But before he could create enough distance, the group burst over the dune, rushing directly toward him.

“P-Please!” the young woman shouted.

“Help us!”

Even as she spoke, she did not slow down.

Her eyes locked onto him with desperate determination.

Around her, the others quickly understood her plan.

They were already on their last legs.

If they could draw another fighter into the battle, their chances of survival would increase.

Watching them approach, Thoren narrowed his eyes slightly.

He understood.

Every bit of it.

But he remained silent.

He had just entered the second floor. There was too much he did not know.

For now…

He would not reject them.

But neither would he trust them.

As the group reached him, the young woman’s expression brightened slightly.

“Sorry for troubling you,” she said quickly. “But we have no choice…”

Before she could finish, she turned back toward the incoming Sand Hounds, already preparing to fight again.

Whether Thoren accepted her apology or not did not matter.

Her goal had already been achieved. He was now part of the battlefield.

The others did not even look at him. They simply positioned themselves nearby, ensuring they remained close.

To them, one thing was clear, a man standing alone, clean, and uninjured in a place like this…

Was not ordinary.

He had to be strong.

Thoren, however, paid no attention to their thoughts. His expression remained calm, indifferent.

Whoosh!

From his Undead Space, a figure emerged. A figure clad in a black hood, its face obscured in shadow.

In its right hand, it held a massive axe. The moment it appeared; the air seemed to grow colder.

“…What?” one of the group members muttered in shock.

Their eyes widened in disbelief.

Given their situation, none of them had even thought to ask about Thoren’s profession.

Receiving Thoren’s silent command, the undead servant stepped forward, placing itself between him and the incoming Sand Hounds.

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