Sand whipped across Kai’s body like tiny shards of glass, carried by the dry desert wind that howled over the dunes. With a smooth flick of his fingers, a wind barrier shimmered into existence, enveloping not just himself but the rest of the party behind him. The shield bent the grains away in an arc, giving them a moment of quiet amidst the storm.

They stood at the edge of a steep dune.

The group had been marching for over an hour under the relentless sun. Progress was slow, but it was there. On the other hand, Kai had been conserving his mana carefully. He didn’t cast excessively unless absolutely necessary.

But now, as he stared at the scene below, he felt the quiet urge to call upon it.

Down in the shallow valley just ahead, sitting smugly on the fat curve of a cactus plant, was a scorpion. Not just any desert crawler. This one was the size of a grown man’s torso, its thick legs clung easily to the cactus like it owned it. Its outer shell gleamed a dark crimson, and a stinger the size of a dagger curled above it, twitching slowly. Its three eyes were locked on them.

Kai’s gaze narrowed as a glint from its underside caught the light. Beneath its limbs, instead of the weak flesh most scorpions exposed, this one bore a shiny carapace—thick and hard like blackened jade.

Rhea’s breath hitched beside him. Her eyes lit up, sparkling with fascination.

“What is that thing?” Kai asked, already turning toward Ansel.

“It’s a crimson thorn scorpion,” Ansel replied. “Grade 2. Nasty little bastard.”

Feroy squinted. “Doesn’t look that strong.”

Ansel let out a soft, humorless laugh. “That’s what gets most people killed. Normal scorpions? Flip them over and stab the soft bits. This one? Its underside is naturally armored. No weak points there unless you crack it. And it’s fast. Very fast.”

Kai frowned. “Is it going to attack us?”

“Most probably. They’re territorial. We could try another path, but they tend to chase prey once they’ve marked it.”

Kai sighed, brushing sand from his robes. “Let’s just deal with it, then.”

He turned toward Gareth, who gave a silent nod.

In the blink of an eye, Gareth vanished. Dust exploded behind him as his body blurred forward. He reappeared beside the cactus, his blade already coming down.

But the scorpion was faster than expected.

With a sharp screech, it leapt—its body blurring as it twisted midair. Gareth’s sword tore through the cactus, slicing it clean in half, but the crimson thorn was already airborne, its stinger aimed forward like a spear.

And it dived straight for Kai’s party.

The moment the scorpion’s stinger closed in, it slammed against the wind barrier and rebounded with a thud, skidding across the sand like a tossed stone. The protective barrier of air rippled outward from Kai’s figure, still holding strong.

The beast screeched in frustration, legs scrabbling for purchase as it tried to recover mid-bounce—but three shadows moved to meet it before it could launch again.

Feroy, Kael, and Neris rushed down the dune. The sand slowed them somewhat, but their footing was solid, and Kai knew raw power more than made up for the terrain disadvantage.

The scorpion leapt again, tail slicing toward Neris, but his buckler caught the strike and Kael stepped in to parry with the blunt end of his axe. The beast skittered to the side, trying to reposition, but Feroy was already channeling.

Mana surged visibly through him, coiling around his arm. His spear ignited with a deep, pulsing flame that didn’t flicker like normal fire—it roared. With a single lunge, Feroy’s strike met the scorpion mid-air, punching through its armored head earning a sizzling crack.

The beast shrieked but wasn’t dead yet. It thrashed, tried to twist free—even managed to leap backward in a desperate bid for survival—but instead slammed straight into Kael’s waiting shield. The impact rang out like a gong.

Kael didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward with a grunt and brought his foot down.

Crunch.

Silence followed.

Feroy exhaled, covered in sweat, and looked at Kael with a grin. “Good job.”

Kael gave a thumbs-up, already pulling his shield free of the scorpion’s shattered carapace.

Feroy crouched near the corpse, inspecting the body with an appraising eye. “Tough bastard,” he muttered. “That was harder than I expected.”

“They usually are,” Ansel said, coming up beside them. “They’re a damn pain in the ass. Tasty, though. Went on hunts for them a few times with the Sand Knights. Always left us tired.”

Kai approached the scorpion’s corpse, studying the cracked shell, the still-glowing tail, the residual mana signature clinging to its body.

“Are they going to be common out here?” he asked, glancing at Ansel.

Ansel shook his head. “Not if we keep heading toward my tribe. We’ll be skirting the edge of their territory. But we’ll still have to deal with strikers—big bastards that burst out from under the sand without warning—and laughing hyenas. Pack hunters. Annoying, but manageable with our group.”

Kai nodded. “And the real threat?”

Ansel’s lips lopsided. “Sand elementals. If we run into one of those, expect a proper fight. Not beasts, not spirits either—just mana that grew a will and started tearing things apart.”

Kai’s brow furrowed. He’d dealt with elementals before—ice, wind, even one made of raw shadow. They were always a pain.

Even the weakest of sand elementals would be a Grade 4 beast. Kai hoped the desert gods weren’t cruel enough to throw one at him here.

He crouched beside the scorpion’s corpse and watched the sun. Heat shimmered off the sand. Rhea approached from behind, her boots crunching softly as she followed him.

A good time for a lesson.

Kai tilted his head toward her. “Ever seen a scorpion-type beast before?”

Rhea shook her head quickly. “No, Master.”

“Then how would you know where to strike one if you face it in battle?”

She hesitated, lips parting slightly, clearly thinking. “Can’t I just… burn it?” she offered. “Everything burns if the flames are strong enough.”

“That’s true. But not everything burns fast enough to stop it from killing you first.” He tapped a knuckle lightly on the carapace. “Some beasts have bodies resistant to flame. Others absorb it, twist it, or spit it back at you. This one might not—but who knows?”

Rhea frowned slightly, her brows knitting.

“Beasts have special organs,” Kai continued, “designed to absorb ambient mana and use it. Not consciously like a Mage or Enforcer, but through instinct. That’s how they gain their abilities. You want to survive? Learn where the power comes from.”

As he spoke, he drew a thin dagger from his belt. Its edge gleamed unnaturally bright—enchanted for dissection, not battle.

Without ceremony, he plunged the blade into the scorpion’s cracked carapace and began slicing it open with precision. The smell of beast-blood, acrid and sweet, filled the air.

Rhea’s face twitched, a flicker of revulsion, but she didn’t look away.

Good.

Kai worked quickly, pulling apart chitin and muscle, exposing sinew and organ sacs. His hand paused as he pointed at a swollen gland near the tail.

“See this?” he said. “This sac stores venom. If it had stung you, that poison would already be racing through your veins. Depending on the dose, you’d be paralyzed—or dead—within minutes. You’d need a specific antidote, which only experienced alchemists or desert hunters know how to make.”

He shifted his blade, revealing a thickened heart wrapped in a dark, fibrous sheath. “And this? Its heart. Coated in a natural armor, probably to protect it during combat. Meaning stabbing it here wouldn’t do much.”

He tapped the scorpion’s head with the hilt of the blade. “Go for the brain. Or the eyes, if you want to blind it. Targeting the wrong place in battle just wastes time—and gives the beast a chance to kill you.”

Rhea nodded, eyes fixed at the dissected insides.

Kai continued, exposing the beast’s internal structure like a scholar with a textbook. He explained mana circulation patterns, the placement of muscles around the stinger, and how the shell segmented in a way that made certain spots more vulnerable than others.

Only when he wiped the dagger clean and rose to his feet did he notice the silence.

The others were watching.

Feroy, Kael, Neris. Even Claire had turned her full attention. Ansel smirked as if he had expected nothing less.

Kai dusted off his hands and looked over the group. “Alright,” he said calmly, as if nothing had happened. “Let’s be on our way.”

Everyone gave a brief nod, and the group fell into motion. The newer Enforcers moved to take their place alongside the horse lines.

Gareth peeled away without a word, heading up a nearby dune. He moved lightly, almost invisible, his figure shrinking in the distance as he began scouting for more threats.

Kai kept pace with the group but let his attention drift. He glanced toward Rhea. She walked a little behind him, brows furrowed, her fingers twitching occasionally as if mimicking the dissection in her mind. Probably replaying the lesson. He said nothing. Letting her wrestle with information was part of the training.

His own focus shifted outward.

The mana in the air—if it could still be called that—was like a weak whisper. Barely there. He’d noticed it the moment they entered the Ashari desert.

Not utterly dead, like the zones of his time but still dangerously thin. The sort of place that choked Mages and slowly wore down even high-grade breast that relied on mana to survive. If you weren’t prepared, you’d find yourself drained and defenseless in a day.

It wasn’t quite suffocating, but it was… wrong.

Like breathing stale air after living in mountain winds.

Kai exhaled slowly, letting his senses stretch into the barren emptiness. Even the wind felt empty here. Still, he was built for this. Trained for scarcity. His techniques were shaped for precision, not indulgence. In some twisted way, this place gave him an edge. Even so, it felt like standing on the edge of a knife.

Footsteps approached from behind, soft and steady. Kai didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Ansel came up beside him, dust coating the lower hem of his robe. “We should reach my tribe in about five hours if we keep this pace,” he said. “More if we stop for rest.”

Kai gave a short nod. “Will they accept outsiders?”

Ansel didn’t answer immediately. He pulled a scarf up to cover his mouth against the blowing sand, then said, “Normally? No. They don’t like outsiders. Most desert tribes don’t.”

Kai raised an eyebrow.

“But you’re with me,” Ansel added. “And I’ll tell them why you’re here. They should support you. My father should still be the tribal leader… and if he’s stepped down, my brother will have taken over. Either way, we’ll be received.”

“I didn’t know tribal leaders retired,” Kai said, glancing sideways.

Ansel chuckled, the sound dry and unbothered. “They do. Eventually. All our leaders are Sand Knights—strength matters too much in the desert for it to be otherwise. But there’s a limit. After a point, their bodies just can’t keep up.”

He kicked at the sand lightly, eyes scanning the distant dunes. “We rarely have Sand Knights reach the third rank. Desert life’s too harsh. So when the body begins to fail, the next in the bloodline takes over—someone younger, stronger. The former leader becomes a councilor. It’s a rite of passage, not just an exchange of power. Not as easy as it sounds.”

Kai nodded slightly. “It’s all fine—so long as your father or brother’s reasonable.”

Ansel grinned beneath his scarf. “Trust me, they are. My tribe’s one of the more progressive ones. We’re not stuck in the past like some of the others.”

Kai gave a noncommittal hum. He hoped it was true.

He knew that he wasn’t here to form alliances or dance around politics. After meeting with Ansel’s tribe, he planned to head straight for the peak—and the tower. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became: the orcs weren’t just mutating on their own. They were drawing mana from somewhere… and that somewhere was likely a leak in the tower.

If he could stop that, he could turn the tide. The path to taking down Overlord Kharvosh would become clearer. But every hour they delayed gave the enemy time to grow.

Still, urgency didn’t mean carelessness. They continued to move at a steady pace. The wind died down somewhat, the sun still relentless but less cruel as afternoon shadows stretched longer across the dunes.

From time to time, Kai fell back to walk beside Rhea. She was still focused, her brows drawn tightly together, lost in internal repetitions of the lesson from earlier.

He decided to press the advantage.

Without much warning, he began showing her modified versions of first circle spells. Simple ones, but all rewritten with tighter mana flow, lower burn. They didn’t strike as hard or last as long, but they didn’t collapse after one cast either. And in this kind of environment, that was survival.

Rhea struggled with them, as expected. Her casting stuttered more than once, and she often defaulted to the older structures she knew. Kai didn’t correct her harshly. Just watched, then demonstrated again, slower.

The truth was, most Mages got used to a single structure per spell—muscle memory of the mind. Breaking that, rewriting it, and still casting successfully was a whole different discipline. Not many learned it. Fewer bothered.

But Kai intended for Rhea to.

The Ashari Desert was harsh, but it made the perfect crucible. If she could master spell optimization here—where mana was thin and failure could be fatal—she’d be a better Mage than most her age by the time they left.

And if he was going to fight the orcs, he needed her to pull her weight. As the sun sank lower behind the dunes, their journey pressed on and with it, the desert seemed to wake.

One by one, the beasts came.

Lizards the size of wolves, with gleaming black eyes and sand-colored scales that blended perfectly with their surroundings. Laughing hyenas that circled like jackals, testing the edges of their formation before charging in wild packs. Even a cluster of burrowing sting-worms tried their luck, exploding from beneath the sand in a flurry of teeth and clicking shells.

None of them lasted long.

Kai didn’t need to raise a finger. His Enforcers moved like clockwork, shields raised, weapons glowing with just enough mana to strike cleanly. Each time a beast charged, it was met with trained resistance and swift counterattacks. The desert may have been unforgiving, but so was his party.

After the fourth attack, Kai began to relax slightly. That was, until Gareth returned.

The watcher appeared at the edge of a dune. His steps were hurried, and sand trailed behind each stride.

“Lord Arzan,” he called out. “There are orcs up ahead. And… they have humans in capture.”

Kai’s body stiffened at once. The air around him seemed to still.

“How many?”

“Four orcs. And many humans. All seemed young. You’ll want to see it yourself.”

Kai gave a curt nod, and without wasting another second, the group shifted course.

They moved silently across the ridge Gareth had come from, cresting the dune in formation. As Kai reached the top and peered over the sandy ledge, his breath hitched.

Down below, no more than a hundred feet away, a grim scene unfolded.

Four orcs stood near a rock outcropping, and their forms cast shadows by the setting sun. They were large—no, massive. All seven feet tall, with thick gray skin marred with crude red war paint smeared across their torsos. Under the paint, there were tattoos—so many of them. One had tusks that jutted upward like broken spears, the others wore bone-plated shoulder guards and had rusted cleavers too jagged to be called proper weapons.

Before them, on their knees, were six young men. Humans.

Their skin was darkened from sun exposure, a natural copper-brown that matched the sand. They weren’t bound, but their limbs shook. Sand clung to the sweat on their faces as they bowed low, muttering frantically something that he was too far to hear—but he didn’t need to. The fear in their eyes was universal.

The orcs laughed.

They were exasperating sounds of amusement, like mockery overlapping one another.

One of them stepped forward, nudging one of the boys with his boot until he fell on his side.

Kai’s jaw tightened. Whatever had happened here, he didn’t know—but he did know what the look in the human’s eyes meant. They thought they were already dead.

He glanced sideways at Ansel. “Do you know any of them?”

Ansel’s lips pressed into a thin line. He shook his head. “No. They’re teens. Must’ve been kids when I left. I don’t even know which tribe they’re from.” Then his eyes narrowed. “But if we don’t move fast, they’re going to get a swift death.”

Kai nodded slowly, his thoughts aligning with Ansel’s. The orcs weren’t killing yet. Not because they were merciful—but because they were enjoying playing with them. Fucking bastards. He could see it in their eyes. Cruelty disguised as amusement. A casual confidence that they had all the time in the world to butcher the helpless.

Even if he wanted to preserve his mana—and he did—he doubted facing those orcs head-on without it would be easy. But as he stared down at them, his grip tightening, a thought came unbidden, This is the perfect chance to test it.

Without hesitation, Kai reached behind his shoulder and drew his spear.

The motion caught Feroy’s attention immediately. His eyes widened slightly. “Lord Arzan… are you sure?”

“Yes. I can always fall back on my magic if I need it.”

Then his gaze shifted, planning ahead. The orcs were still focused entirely on their captives—laughing, jeering, showing no sense of caution. Perfect.

He spoke low and fast. “Gareth, Ansel—you two circle from the rear. Hit them just as we reach the center. They won’t anticipate a split formation.”

Ansel gave a nod, then looked at Gareth. “You saw no other orcs?”

“None,” Gareth said. “Just these four.”

Kai grunted. “Good. Be on your way. We attack in two minutes.”

The two men peeled off with swift precision, flanking wide through the dunes without a sound. Kai watched until they disappeared behind the curve, then turned his eyes back to the orcs.

His hand flexed around the spear.

It had been a long time since he fought like this—without spells, without shields of wind or bolts of fire. Just strength. Just speed. Just the raw ability that he’d tried to practice harder every day.

Aside from Killian’s brutal training sessions, he’d barely touched that part of himself.

Time to wake it up.

But just as that thought settled, Feroy let out a low snarl beside him. “Lord Arzan—look.”

Kai’s eyes snapped forward—and his stomach turned.

One of the humans on the ground had tried to crawl away. An orc stepped forward, its massive foot slamming down on the boy’s leg with a crack. Bone shattered. The boy screamed.

The others started shaking even harder, some crying for their lives and panic radiated from them. The orcs just laughed louder.

Kai’s jaw clenched, fury flooding through him. He exhaled once, steadying it.

“Now,” he said, voice cold. “Let’s go.”

In an instant, Neris raised his bow and loosed an arrow. It whistled through the air and struck the nearest orc cleanly in the thigh with a solid thunk.

The orc let out a guttural cry, stumbling back in surprise. The other three turned sharply, their amusement gone in a flash—replaced by confusion and rage.

By the time they understood what was happening, it was too late.

Kai and his group were already charging down the dune, sand kicking up in sprays behind them.

***

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