Kai’s plan was simple. Not in its details—no, those were bold, even dangerous—but in its intent, he and his party would carry the risk, so the tribes could carry hope.

That was the only way they’d even consider rebellion.

Khorvash’s name hung over every tribal chief like a chain around their necks. Clearly, the orc overlord had spent years building a legacy of fear—razing rebel camps to ash, sending heads of fallen leaders wrapped in cloth to surviving family members, turning resistance into a memory that these people were scared to speak of. He was the Duneborns’ pride—their strongest.

And here stood Kai, saying he’d take him on alone.

The room fell silent when he began to talk about his strategy. They all listened to it calmly until the very end.

His plan placed all the risk on his own shoulders. Taking on Khorvash directly was the only way to shake the fear from the hearts of the desert tribes—fear that had seeped into their bones after years of the orc overlord’s growing legend. And so, when he finished laying out his strategy in the meeting hall, the looks he received were nothing short of horrified.

Disbelief sharpened into open scoffs. One elder laughed under his breath, muttering that Kai must be insane. Another stood up, voice edged with ridicule, asking if this was all just some grand joke. But Kai didn’t show an ounce of hesitation. Every word he spoke, he meant and he stood by them.

Khorvash was the linchpin. Remove him, and the Duneborn dominance crumbled. Without their strongest warrior—the one wielding relics no other orc could tame—the scales would tip back to balance.

And that was all he needed from the tribes. If he succeeded, they would act. Until then, they would wait.

He sharply inhaled when he noticed a lot of tribals getting up and leaving, calling him a madman over and over again. But more stayed behind. Because in truth, it cost them nothing to wait.

Surprisingly, Khalid opposed him—not out of doubt with Kai’s skills, but because his eyes kept drifting to Ansel. Kai understood.

He pulled him aside that evening and promised Ansel would remain behind from what sounded like a suicide mission to him. Khalid didn’t say anything, but the tightness in his shoulders eased. He mentioned how Ansel was capable but he only wanted to take Enforcers with him.

And so, a day later, Kai stepped into the sands again. The sun hung high, casting long shadows across the ridges. Wind lashed at his robes, carrying grit into his teeth. And beasts, they came at his party with all their strength.

“Lord Arzan, above!” Gareth’s voice rang out.

Kai’s eyes darted upward just in time to see the creature plummet.

It dropped from a ridge—a twisted thing with dry, lizard-like scales and leathery wings stretched tight between its limbs. Eight legs clung to its body like broken branches. Its jaw unhinged mid-air, tongue snapping forward like a whip aimed for Kai’s skull.

He rolled sideways, out of his mount, the creature’s tongue grazing his shoulder as it missed. A hiss split the air.

These things weren’t new to him. He’d heard about them from Ansel—Skyrakes. Not true fliers—Just beasts that glided through the air—but they made up for it with speed and predatory focus. In a place starved of mana, they used what little they had.

A second one lunged. Its tongue lashed out, and Kai ducked low, twisting. He flung a dagger without pause. The blade buried itself in the creature’s eye. It screeched, convulsed, then dropped from the air like a stone.

The third came straight for his chest.

Kai met it with the butt of his spear, blocking the impact with a grunt. The creature recoiled from the force, wings flapping in panic. He stepped in and drove his spear through its exposed chest. Blood splattered against the sand.

Another dropped in from above. This one aimed for his arm, fangs snapping.

Kai shifted, spun his spear horizontally, and shoved it into the beast’s throat. Its wings beat one last time before its body slumped to the ground.

Skyrakes clearly weren’t tough. But they were fast, and in numbers, they could be dangerous.

Just as Kai wiped his blade clean, movement caught his eye—three of the Skyrakes leapt toward a nearby boulder, their claws scraping against stone as they scrambled to flee.

Kai’s hand twitched, ready to summon wind or fire—but a blur shot past him before the mana even stirred.

Steel flashed once. Then twice. Then a third time.

The bodies of the fleeing beasts dropped, lifeless, landing with dull thuds in the sand.

Adil stood at the top of the boulder, blood dripping from his curved blade, his chest rising steadily. He glanced down at the fallen, gave a slight nod, and jumped back to the ground with ease. Sand puffed beneath his boots as he strode toward Kai.

He was the only tribal that came with him on this death mission and the one whose willingness to move with him surprised Kai the most. He’d arrived with a mount of his own when they were about to leave saying that they’d need a guide to the territory. Kai accepted his inclusion, not seeing any reason to reject, especially because the man didn’t seem like he wanted to cause any trouble.

“You could’ve just used those flashy spells of yours,” Adil muttered in a dry voice.

Before Kai could answer, Gareth snorted. “Lord Arzan is saving his strength for Khorvash. These beasts aren’t worthy to waste mana.”

Adil grunted, glancing at the corpses again.

“Then he should stay out of these warm-ups. I don’t need help handling bugs.”

Kai shrugged, spinning his spear once in his grip. “I’m trying to practice my spear skills.”

Adil narrowed his eyes. “Practice? You’re not a Sand Knight. What’s the point?”

A faint smirk tugged at Kai’s lips. The man still thought his strength came only from magic. That was fine. He let him think that.

Kai turned toward the others. He saw Claire and Kael standing in the back with their mounts.

“Everyone alright?” he asked.

Claire nodded. “We’re fine.”

Kael gave a thumbs-up. “Just a scratch.”

Feroy and Nerris had stayed behind. It was a deliberate choice—Kai needed trusted people to guide the tribals during the rebellion when it finally broke out. As for Rhea, she was safely tucked in Khalid’s home. She’d begged to come, but this wasn’t training anymore. Khorvash was far beyond her level, and Kai had left her with new spells to study and strict instructions not to follow him.

He glanced back at the blood-soaked sand, then at the horizon ahead.

“We move,” he said, voice low. “And we avoid any more of their nests from now on.”

No one argued.

Adil swung up onto his mount, the beast grunting as it rose to its full height. “If we avoid their nests,” he said, brushing dust off his trousers, “we’ll have to deal with worse. This part of the desert crawls with things you don’t want to see whether night or day. The orcs let them breed, then hunt them like cattle.”

Kai climbed onto his own mount, the scaled creature shifting under his weight. Behind him, Claire adjusted her saddle and asked, “How far is Drah’Kuun? The one you said Khorvash controls.”

Adil guided his beast toward the front of the group, the wind tugging at his scarf. “Not far. Two hours, if we don’t run into a patrol. I’ve been there once. The outskirts, at least. We’ll see guards soon.”

Then his gaze slid to Kai, serious now. “You’ll need to start your plan once we do.”

“I know,” Kai replied, already turning inward again.

They moved again, sand kicking up behind them in soft clouds as they rode deeper into orc territory.

Kai leaned forward slightly on his mount, his eyes unfocused, lips pressed tight in thought.

The plan had multiple layers—most of it hinged on his spells. Not the basic ones anyone could learn, but the ones that carved through legions, spells originally forged for war. Fourth and fifth circle spells. The ones he worked to modify as they moved.

After awakening in this new life as Arzan, Kai had been forced to adapt to an environment full of mana and hence, he had created a basic spell structure he used for both of his fire and wind aspected spells that contained calculations that took in a vast amount of mana.

But in the desert, he had been modifying them back to take in as little mana as possible and even work more lethally against orcs.

With every beat of his mount’s stride, calculations played behind his eyes, reforming the spells to suit what he needed out of them.

Fortunately, there was no dead mana here to slow things down. That helped since he didn’t have to add in the lines to filter it. But higher-circle spells weren’t forgiving. One misaligned structure, one delayed release, and the spell could backfire. Or explode. Still, this was his strength. He’d always been good with calculations and changing spell structures.

And so the ride became a moving workshop. Until Kael’s voice cut through his trance.

“I see orcs,” Kael muttered, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun. His words carried just enough urgency to make the others slow their pace.

The mounts began to shuffle, sand kicking up under their feet as the group eased to a halt. Ahead, a trio of figures approached, dust swirling around them. They weren’t on foot. Each orc rode a beast the size of a wagon, thick with muscle and fur the color of burnt clay. Their horns curled wide like crescent moons, jagged at the tips, and their nostrils flared with each breath.

The animals looked bred for war—hooves cracking the dry earth, eyes burning with the same brutish menace as their riders.

The orcs seemed relaxed, talking among themselves in low grunts and short bursts of their harsh tongue. But as the distance closed, the tension thickened. The one in the center—broad, crooked nose taking up most of his face—grunted something and yanked on the reins, halting his mount. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

“Why the hell are you humans here?” His voice was rough, more bark than speech. “State your purpose, or you won’t be able to walk back alive.”

No one answered right away. The wind rustled against cloth and leather, but the silence hung heavier than the heat.

Kai’s eyes swept over them—no glow of enchantments, no marks of power. No artifacts. Unimportant, then. But still useful.

He swung down from his mount with fluid grace, sand hissing under his boots. Without hesitation, he lowered his head in a deep bow. Behind him, his party followed suit, each of them bowing as they’d practiced. Even Adil.

“I am honored to meet the esteemed Duneborns,” Kai said, sounding as sincere as possible. “My name is Arzan. I am a traveler from distant lands, drawn to the Ashari desert by the legend of Belkhor’s chosen.”

The orcs exchanged glances. Suspicion and confusion danced in their expressions. Kai watched them closely.

Crooked Nose—the leader, clearly—tilted his head like a dog hearing something strange. The bald one beside him scratched his ear, squinting at the group with dull suspicion. The third, lean and filthy, had a sour look and a crusted film around his mouth, as if water was a myth he’d never heard of. Of course, he knew that orcs weren’t big on hygiene, but this one was much worse. The stench wafting off him made Kai instinctively breathe through his mouth. He dubbed them silently—Big Nose, Bald Head, and Slimy.

Big Nose grunted again. “That doesn’t answer why you’re here. Some foreigners with a tribal tagging along.”

His voice was sharper now, less curious and more hostile. The other two began to fan out, their mounts shifting restlessly. Kai lifted his head, a calm smile already in place.

The orc jabbed a thick finger toward Adil, his lip curling slightly. “Why is he with you if you are from distant lands?” he asked, gaze sharp.

Kai’s pulse quickened—but only slightly. By the way they talked, they hadn’t recognized Adil for who he truly was. That was good. The man had told him that not many orcs would recognise him and that had turned out to be true.

“A local guide,” Kai said smoothly, then raised his chin with a look of genuine reverence. “And I’m here because I’m searching for the Palace of Belkhor.”

That got their attention.

Big Nose’s eyes narrowed into slits. His grip on the reins tightened, nostrils flaring. “How do you know about that?” he growled.

Kai kept his calm smile. “I’m a scholar. A connoisseur and seeker of divine knowledge. Among all the gods of the world, it is Belkhor who commands the deepest awe. Not just power—but savagery, might, fearlessness. Humans worship many gods, but none can match the greatness of Belkhor.”

He watched the orcs’ faces closely, noting the twitch of pride in Big Nose’s brows and the flicker of interest from Bald Head. Slimy scratched his armpit.

“I’ve studied his monuments. Traveled far to trace his legend,” Kai continued, voice tinged with just enough zeal to sound convincing. “In one forgotten ruin, I found mention of the palace—hidden deep in Ashari’s sands. That’s what brought me here. I wish to see its glory.”

He let his words hang in the dry air, hoping the bait had been taken. Fanatics always wanted confirmation—someone to agree their god was the greatest. And Kai had given them that. More importantly, he hoped they’d catch the subtle flattery hidden beneath his tone.

But then Big Nose squinted at him, confusion drawing lines across his forehead. “What’s a… con-su… su-er?”

Kai blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “Connoisseur,” he corrected after a beat. “It means someone who knows a lot about something. An expert.”

Big Nose grunted, still scowling. “Strange word. But it’s good that even a human like yourself knows the greatness of Belkhor.”

For a moment, Kai thought it was working—until the orc’s face hardened again.

“But belief doesn’t grant privilege,” Big Nose snapped. “The Palace of Belkhor isn’t for human eyes. Not even faithful ones. Only Khorvash, our Champion, and his chosen can walk that path.”

He leaned forward on his saddle, eyes now sharp with warning. “So I’ll give you one chance, human. Turn back. Leave these lands. Or I’ll spill your blood here and now, and feed your bones to the sands.”

The other two orcs let out guttural laughs, hands resting a little too casually on the hilts of their weapons.

Kai’s heart sank a little. For a second, he genuinely began to wonder if he’d overestimated the average orc’s intelligence.

How could they not know what Khorvash was doing? The orc he’d interrogated had clearly said his subordinates were aware of the tower, the enchantments, the efforts to reach the top. So why weren’t these three catching on?

But just as he began to pivot on his heel, ready to feign retreat and circle back another way, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Slimy leaned toward Big Nose, whispering—though “whisper” was generous. His gravelly voice scratched the air like rocks on bark.

“Ask about the tower… if he knows how it works.”

Kai almost revised the nickname on the spot. Maybe he was too harsh to judge Slimy, the orc was helpful.

Big Nose’s gaze returned to him. “You said you’ve visited Belkhor’s monuments. That you read records of the palace.”

Kai dipped his chin. “That’s right.”

A long pause occured. Big Nose’s next words were slower. “Then do you know how it works? The palace. The inner floors. How to climb them.”

Kai allowed a flicker of a smile to curve at the edge of his mouth. “Yes,” he said, steady. “Most of the places I visited had human runes engraved on the walls. I understand them. I know how to read them.”

All three orcs turned to each other this time, trading glances, jaws tight. Slimy shifted excitedly in his saddle, and Bald Head’s eyes lit up with a shade of hope—or greed.

Big Nose’s gaze returned like a hammer. “You truly know it?”

Kai bowed again respectfully. “I would never lie to the children of Belkhor.”

A moment of silence passed again. Then the orc grunted. “Very well. You come with us. Overlord Khorvash will want to hear you speak.”

Kai bowed slightly. But before he could signal the others, Big Nose jerked a thumb at his companions. “They won’t come with you. Your friends can turn back. Especially the tribal. No tribals allowed.”

The words came like a snap of dry wood.

Kai’s eyes flicked to his companions—Adil’s jaw clenched, Claire’s brow tightened, Kael’s fingers twitched near his blade, only Gareth kept his composure—and then back to the orcs.

“They’re believers too,” Kai said quickly, keeping the urgency from his tone. “We’ve all travelled together for this. They’ve studied the texts with me. They only wish to witness the palace. They won’t speak, won’t interfere. Just let them see it.”

Big Nose’s lip curled. “Don’t need more filthy humans walking our divine palace. Especially a tribal.”

Kai placed a hand over his chest, bowing slightly again. “Believers of Belkhor are never filthy. They’re just… misguided souls who found the right path.”

Another silence.

The three orcs looked at one another again. Slimy scratched his shoulder, muttered something that might have been agreement. Bald Head shrugged.

Big Nose’s face twisted in thought, his brows furrowed like he was trying to chew through a rock with his mind. Before he could spit out another word, Bald Head gave a short grunt and jabbed a thick finger toward Claire. A low, ugly chuckle rumbled from his throat like dry gravel rolling down a hill.

Big Nose followed the gesture, his beady eyes settling on her. A slow, mocking smirk crept up his face. Then he turned back to Kai.

“Fine,” he said at last. “They can come. But none of them speak. Not one word. We don’t want human tongues wagging in our lands.”

Kai gave a small nod, keeping his expression carefully blank.

But then Big Nose added, “And before they leave… that one”—he jabbed his thumb at Claire—“stays with us. For a while.”

Bald Head’s laugh got louder. Slimy licked his lips. Behind Kai, he felt Claire stiffen. Kael narrowed his eyes, his knuckles white. Adil shifted like he was ready to draw.

Kai didn’t let his expression crack. He bowed his head slightly again, shoulders loose, eyes calm.

“Of course,” he said, voice smooth as polished stone. “Whatever you say.”

But inside, something in him burned hotter than the desert sun. They were already dead pieces of animals—just didn’t know it yet.

He would deal with Khorvash first. Then, when the dust had settled and the tower was his, he’d find these three again.

And make sure they never opened their mouths or laid eyes on a woman, ever again.

***

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