Days blurred together as the caravan dragged itself through the wasteland. The sun bore down, relentless, turning sweat to salt and sand to fire beneath their feet. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of hunger gnawing at their ribs, thirst scouring their throats raw.
Their march had slowed to a crawl. Hollow eyes searched the horizon, but it was always the same—endless dunes, shifting with the wind, swallowing any hope of an end.
Then the silence broke.
First, murmurs. Then whispers. Then voices, sharp and cracking under the strain.
"This is madness," someone rasped, their breath shallow, words barely making it past their parched lips. "We're walking to our graves."
A man scoffed, spitting into the sand. "We had shelter back there. Now? Nothing."
Mark stepped forward, his presence alone enough to stall the voices. "We knew this wouldn't be easy. But—"
A woman cut him off, eyes hollow, her frame trembling with exhaustion. "But what, Mark? You promised us a future. You swore the children—" Her voice broke, shoulders shaking as she turned away.
Tension thickened, pressing down like the heat.
A ragged voice, rough as the cracked earth, rose from the crowd. "We should've sacrificed ourselves instead of them."
Mark's breath hitched, a flicker of something raw in his eyes. "We did what we had to."
"Did we?" Another stepped forward, their gaze sharp with something cold and final. "We're already dead out here. And we're dragging that thing with us. If we're going to die, we should take it with us."
The murmurs turned to something darker. A shift, subtle but unmistakable.
Doubt had taken root. And it was spreading.
"How do you propose we kill a worm that size?" someone muttered, voice dry as the dust beneath their feet.
The first man turned, eyes locking onto Kael like a predator spotting prey. "Hey, fire guy, why don't you do it?"
Kael didn't even look his way. A smirk tugged at his lips, lazy, unconcerned. "You'll have to ask my brother. He's the mastermind behind all this."
The man's face twisted, frustration darkening into something sharper. Without another word, he turned and stalked toward Max. Others followed, their desperation thickening into something dangerous.
Max stood apart, his gaze fixed on the horizon, unmoving even as they surrounded him.
"We're done," a voice spat. "We're starving. We're not dragging that thing any farther."
"If we're going to die," another cut in, "we'll die avenging our children."
The word avenge cracked through the air like a whip.
Max's gaze snapped to them, cold, cutting. His voice, quiet but steady, carried like a gathering storm.
"You make me sick."
The air shifted.
Max stepped forward, contempt coiling in his stance. "You threw your own children into the pit. You watched them die." His lip curled. "And now you want to act like martyrs?"
Silence.
Eyes dropped. Shoulders hunched. Shame seeped through the cracks of their anger.
Max let it settle, let it sink in.
Then he turned, scanning the caravan. Not everyone was broken. Some still gripped their packs, still stared ahead, still walked.
His voice cut through the stillness.
"Who here wants to die like a coward?"
No one moved.
Max exhaled, slow, sharp. "I thought so."
He turned and walked.
One by one, they followed.
Behind them, the worm groaned in its stone cart, its massive form shifting, breathing—still bound to them, still part of their fate.
Max touched his pouch, fingers brushing the small vials inside.
'Three left.'
His grip tightened.
'We have to reach the end before I run out.'
————
Ash walked at the rear, his boots sinking into the sand with each step. His job wasn't complicated—watch the stragglers, keep them moving, make sure no one disappeared.
The desert had a way of swallowing people.
His gaze flicked to the dunes stretching endlessly ahead. Something moved in the distance—shadows shifting, slithering just beneath the surface. Watching.
Ash exhaled, voice barely above a whisper. "Days now… Max's plan is actually working."
'But for how much longer?'
His eyes drifted to the group, settling on Kael near the worm cart. Always close to the thing, always lingering. But now—he was moving. Heading toward Max.
Ash slowed his pace, watching. They spoke, shoulders tense, words too low to hear. Then, suddenly, Kael turned, scanning the caravan before locking onto Ash.
He smiled.
Something twisted in Ash's gut.
Kael strode toward him, grin fading into something unreadable. When he finally reached him, his tone was almost casual. "You're good at this. Watching from the back."
Ash shrugged. "Someone has to. Otherwise, people start vanishing."
Kael chuckled, but it barely reached his eyes. "We're stopping soon. We need to talk."
Ash's brow furrowed. "Talk about what?"
Kael's gaze flicked past him, scanning the others before lowering his voice. "Max's plan is falling apart."
A chill ran through Ash, despite the heat.
"How bad?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Three vials left. And we're nowhere near the end."
The sand felt heavier beneath Ash's feet.
"If people find out—" Kael started.
"They'll panic."
Kael gave a slow nod.
Ash let out a slow breath, steadying himself. He had known supplies were low, but hearing it aloud made it real. The end they had gambled everything on was slipping further away.
"I hope Max has a way out of this," Ash murmured.
Kael's lips curved—not a smirk, not a smile. Something between them. "Actually… he does."
Ash's shoulders tensed. "And?"
Kael turned, already walking away. Over his shoulder, he called, "You'll find out. After we stop."
Ash watched him go, the weight of those words pressing down harder than the desert sun.
————
The sun bled into the horizon, drowning the dunes in deep orange before fading into cold twilight. Heat still clung to the air, but the desert had already begun its transformation—blazing inferno giving way to something quieter, something watchful.
The caravan clustered around the stone cart, shoulders slumped, breaths heavy. Their voices barely rose above a murmur, edged with exhaustion. Firelight danced against their faces, but the darkness beyond pressed close, swallowing the edges of their camp.
Ash stood at the perimeter, gaze locked on the sky. Stars bled through the veil of night, distant and indifferent. But his focus dropped, scanning the sand, the way it shifted, restless.
Movement.
Something slithered just beyond sight, a shadow gliding beneath the dunes, patient. Waiting.
Ash's fingers twitched at his side. He had seen it before—following, circling, never coming closer. Not yet.
He exhaled. "Just don't get smart enough to figure it out."
A prayer. A warning.
Then—
The cart lurched.
The worm stirred.
Gasps snapped through the camp. People scrambled back, eyes locked on the massive form curled within the cart's restraints. Its stone-plated hide, cracked and broken from the journey, was shifting—regrowing. Too fast.
A guttural groan vibrated from its core, deep enough to rattle bone. Its maw cracked open, jagged teeth glinting in the firelight.
Ash's hand darted to his blade.
Max moved first.
He stepped forward, unhurried, reaching into his pouch. His expression was unreadable, his grip steady.
The worm's mouth yawned wide.
Max's arm snapped forward—
Glass shattered against flesh.
A muffled crack, a jolt that rippled through the beast's body. Its groan cut off, muscles locking, then slumping. Stone plates settled, its monstrous form growing still once more.
Silence. Then—
Relief.
The tension snapped like a rope cut loose.
"Max did it again!"
"Hah! Never doubted him!"
Laughter rippled through the group, thin but real. For the first time in days, hope flared.
Ash let out a breath, stepping toward Max.
"That was kind of cool," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Max didn't smile. Didn't react. Just stared ahead, shoulders stiff beneath the weight pressing down on them.
Ash studied him. "Look… I know things aren't going the way you planned, but you got us this far."
Max stood still, the firelight painting shadows across his face. Then, finally, a breath.
"Yeah." His voice was quiet. "You're right."
Then, a pause.
A shift in the air.
Max turned to him, eyes dark, unreadable.
"I have a plan to fix this."
Ash straightened. "Good. What is it?"
Max exhaled, slow. Then, the words came, quiet but sharp, sinking deep.
"But it requires your sacrifice."
Silence.
Ash's eyes narrowed. "My sacrifice?" His lips curled into a smirk. "Oh, wait… you mean my speed."
Max gave a single nod, his gaze distant, fixed beyond the firelight. "I don't know how far this journey stretches," he murmured, "but I know it has an end."
Ash followed his brother's stare to the horizon—a sea of shifting dunes, cold under the night's watchful eye. The wind cut through the silence, whispering through the sand like the voices of the lost.
Max's voice came low, steady. "I won't force you. This has to be your choice. But we need to know how far it really is."
Ash turned to him, a grin flashing through the shadows. "What are you talking about? You're my brother. You think I wouldn't do this for you?" His gaze darkened. "The last thing I want is to watch you and Kael die out here."
For the first time in what felt like days, something in Max's expression eased. A flicker of relief, brief as a dying ember. Then, a ghost of a smile. "Same here. I just want to get both of you out of this alive."
Ash clapped him on the shoulder. "Then stop worrying. So my job is just to run ahead and find the way out?"
Max nodded. "But first… the old man wants to talk to you."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
They moved through the camp, stepping over bodies curled near dying fires. The stench of sweat, dust, and fading hope clung to the air.
By the central fire, Kael and Mark sat hunched over, their faces hollow in the flickering glow. Kael spotted them first, grinning.
"So?" He leaned back, stretching. "How'd it go?"
Max exhaled. "He's in."
Kael's grin widened. "See? Nothing to worry about. Ash is useful."
Ash's eyes flicked to him.' That word again.'
Mark, the old man, turned. His gaze lingered on Ash, measuring. Then, after a long pause, he gave a single nod. "So you're really going."
Ash met his stare and held it. "Yeah."
Mark studied him for a beat longer before speaking. "Good." His voice was calm, but something heavy pressed beneath it. "Thank you." A hesitation. Then, softer, "If you reach the end… bring back whatever food you can."
Ash's jaw tightened. His gaze slid to Max.
Max already knew. "Ash won't be able to carry enough."
Mark nodded. "I know." His fingers curled slightly over his knee. "But if nothing else… bring something for the children."
The fire crackled between them. The weight of the words settled, unshaken by the wind.
Kael stretched his arms above his head. "At least water won't be a problem. We've got enough ice users for that."
Ash forced a small smile. "I'll bring as much as I can."
Max's hand found his shoulder. The grip was firm. He didn't let go.
"One more thing."
Ash turned back.
Max's fingers tightened. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone. "If the end of Sandworm Valley is more than a day away…" His voice dropped, a blade beneath the words. "…don't come back."
Silence.
The wind howled through the dunes, carrying whispers only the desert could understand.
Ash stood still. The fire cast long shadows over his face, his eyes unreadable.
Then, slowly, he nodded. "Guess I should get going then."
Max didn't speak. Just nodded back.
Ash turned toward the edge of the caravan. The weary watched him pass—some with hope, others with quiet doubt.
He ignored them.
His pulse steadied. His breath evened.
One step.
Two.
The desert stretched ahead, vast and endless.
[Activating Skill: Phantom's Stride]
Ash vanished into the night.
————
Ash ran.
Wind howled past his ears, a violent scream lost to the night. His body cut through the desert like a phantom, feet barely kissing the sand before vanishing again. The world blurred—streaks of gold and black swallowed in motion. Each step sent ripples through the dunes, but he was gone before they could swallow him.
The journey should've taken hours. Ash carved through it in minutes.
Breath steady. Body light. Mind sharp.
'Faster.'
The desert stretched ahead, endless, merciless. Then—movement.
Sand twisted unnaturally, shifting like water disturbed from below. Ash's gaze snapped to the horizon. Dark forms slithered beneath the dunes, massive shadows barely outlined under the cold starlight.
'Sandworms.'
They didn't lunge. Didn't attack. But they were there. Lurking. Watching.
Ash grit his teeth. 'Are they're following. No… waiting.'
A shape reared from the depths—armor-plated, ridged with scars, shifting as if reforging itself. The air trembled with a low, guttural rumble. A warning.
Ash didn't slow.
Another worm surfaced ahead, its serpentine body carving through the dunes. Then another.
'How many?'
His muscles tensed. Doesn't matter. He wove through the shifting sands, each stride carrying him forward before the ground collapsed in his wake. The moon stretched his shadow long and thin, flickering across the desert.
Then—nothing.
No dunes. No shifting sand. Just an endless stretch of flat, lifeless wasteland.
Ash's steps slowed. His breath came steady, but his pulse pounded in his ears. The sandworms didn't follow. They lingered at the edge, bodies coiled beneath the surface.
Something held them back.
Ash took a step forward. The ground was different. Firmer. Colder.
His eyes narrowed.
'What the hell is this place?'
And more importantly—
'Is this the end of Sandworm Valley?'