Ash moved through the abyss of the wasteland, his breath steady, his footsteps soundless against the cracked earth. The ruins of Ironhold blurred behind him, swallowed by heat and distance. He slowed, his gaze sharp as a blade, scanning the horizon. A flicker of unease slithered through him. Watching eyes? A presence in the dunes?
Nothing. Just silence.
Then—
"[Activating skill: Phantom's Stride]"
The world fractured. The air grew dense, the hum of his machine stretching into a low murmur, distant, unreal. Each grain of sand, each ripple of wind, became something tangible, something he could feel in his bones.
He moved.
The weight-reducing machine glided forward as if the earth had lost its hold on it. The cracked terrain passed in a blur, distance folding in on itself. A moment later, he reached the cabin—a battered shell of a shelter, half-buried in dust.
Beyond it, Sandworm Valley loomed—a churning wasteland of shifting dunes and unseen horrors. Beneath the surface, something enormous breathed, a slow and ancient rhythm hidden under the weight of sand. The ground itself felt wrong, like a thin veil stretched over something waiting to break through.
A jagged sunrise bled across the sky, its crimson light carving through the darkness.
Ash tightened his grip on the machine's handle, his lips curling into a grin.
"Stay put. I'm coming."
Then he vanished.
————
Elsewhere, in sandworms valley…
Max trudged forward, the heat gnawing at his back, his grip firm around the reins. He lifted a metal flask to his lips, letting the water pool on his tongue before swallowing. Every drop counted.
The sky shifted—black retreating into the bruised hues of twilight. Dawn crept closer.
Behind him, the caravan dragged forward, each step carving fresh scars into the dunes. The figures moved like ghosts, wrapped in dust-streaked cloth, their strength whittled down by the endless expanse of sand.
At the center of it all, the Tier 6 Sandworm lay bound and barely breathing, its hulking form wrapped in reinforced chains. Sedated, but not dead. The thing pulsed, slow and rhythmic, its flesh shifting under the restraints.
Lesser worms stirred beneath the surface but kept their distance. They knew. Even in its weakened state, the Creature commanded fear.
For now, everything held together. The caravan moved in silence, the only sounds the grind of wheels against sand and the whisper of shifting dunes. Max walked at the front, jaw tight, eyes scanning the horizon. If they ran out of Maxveil—the only thing keeping the sandworm sedated—then they wouldn't last a minute.
He kept walking. Thinking wouldn't help.
Then—
A dull thud.
Max didn't turn. Neither did the others.
Near the back, a man lay crumpled in the sand, limbs slack, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.
Kael, who had been trailing behind, approached and looked down at him. "Get up." His voice carried no warmth.
No response. The man's fingers twitched, but that was all.
Kael crouched beside him, head tilting. "You're pathetic. Even the kids are still walking."
The man let out a shuddering breath, rolling onto his back. Cracked lips barely moved. "The kids ate last night. I didn't." A pause. Then, quieter, "Just go."
Kael studied him for a moment longer. Then he stood.
"Fine."
He turned away.
The caravan pressed forward, figures dragging their feet through the endless dunes. No one spared the fallen man a second glance.
Darkness stretched across the wasteland, the sky tinged in deep indigo, the first traces of dawn barely visible on the horizon. The cold of the desert night clung to his skin, a sharp contrast to the exhaustion weighing down his body. His vision blurred. He let his eyes drift shut.
Then—
A tremor.
Faint, but deep. Something vast shifting beneath the surface.
His breath hitched. He turned his head, sluggish, unfocused.
The sand moved. Not wind. Not shifting dunes.
Something else.
The ground rolled. Silken ripples, the kind that didn't belong to the lifeless desert. Shapes slithered just beneath the surface—no faces, no eyes, only the promise of something massive.
A pack.
Coming straight for him.
Panic struck like a lightning bolt. His pulse hammered, his body jerking into motion before his mind could catch up.
He ran.
The dunes lurched beneath his steps, sand swallowing his ankles, dragging him down. He fought against it, limbs screaming, lungs burning.
"HEY! WAIT FOR ME!"
His voice cracked, lost in the wind.
The caravan didn't stop. Not immediately. But after a moment, Kael glanced back. His eyes flicked to the moving sand. Then to the man.
"Tch."
With an annoyed sigh, he gestured to one of the others.
"Grab him before he gets himself killed."
Someone went back, lift him up and pulled the man up onto the cart. His breath came in harsh, ragged gulps as he collapsed beside the cargo.
No one spoke.
The desert night stretched on, the first glow of sunrise bleeding into the sky.
They kept moving.
Suddenly.
Whoosh—
The wind roared, flinging sand into the air. It lashed against the caravan like a living thing, clawing at their skin, filling their mouths with dust. Max threw an arm over his face, his grin barely visible through the storm.
"You coming back means we still have a chance, right?"
A shadow moved through the haze. A figure, stepping forward, hauling something heavy.
Ash.
He emerged from the swirling dust, his grip firm on a metal container. His clothes were torn, face streaked with dirt, but his grin mirrored Max's—a sharp, weary thing.
"Yeah. If we keep moving non-stop, we can make it before tomorrow afternoon."
For a moment, silence. Then—cheers. A ragged, desperate sound. The weight pressing down on them cracked, shifting just enough for hope to bleed through.
Max let them have that moment. He didn't.
His gaze flickered, the smile still there but thinner now, stretched too tight.
Ash noticed. "What's wrong?"
Max's grin returned, but something in his eyes stayed dark. "Nothing, oh you came back with a weight-reducing machine."
Ash smirked. "Glad you noticed." He tapped the container, unlatching it with a click.
Lids peeled back. Inside—bread, dried meat, water. Stacks of it. The scent hit the group like a physical thing, stomachs twisting, throats tightening.
A second wave of relief crashed through them. Some fell to their knees, hands trembling as they reached for the food.
An old man pushed forward, shoulders hunched, eyes wet. Mark. His voice cracked as he grabbed Ash's arm. "If not for you… we'd be dying one by one. Thank you."
Ash placed a hand on his shoulder. "Had to do it."
Max clapped his hands once. The noise cut through the murmurs. "Eat now. This is the last stop until we're out of this damned valley."
No arguments. No hesitation. The thought of leaving Sandworm Valley was a rope to hold onto, a promise that felt solid for the first time.
————
The sun bled into the horizon, gold dripping into the dunes. Their makeshift camp flickered in its dying light, the air thick with the scent of dry rations and sweat.
Max sat with Ash and Mark, voices low, conversation slow. Nearby, Kael stretched, rolling his shoulders.
"Good," Kael muttered, stepping closer. "You're back. Looks like you'll be getting your post again." He smirked. "Managing starving people isn't exactly my thing."
Ash exhaled a quiet chuckle, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Kael crouched beside them, gaze flicking to the crate. "Now that we're free, mind telling me where you ended up after the valley?"
Ash's expression shifted. Not fear. Not relief. Something distant.
"The place after this looks safer." His fingers curled against his knee. "But… there are still creatures."
Max's stare sharpened. "You said you found a settlement. What was it called?"
Ash hesitated. "Ironhold."
Kael's head tilted. "And?"
Ash's fingers twitched. A face flashed in his mind. A presence. 'That woman'
He shook it off.
"The people there… they were fine. But something was wrong." His voice dropped lower. "They looked like they had just seen something. Like they were waiting for it to come back."
Max ran a hand through his hair. "A monster attack?"
Ash's throat worked. His grip tightened.
"Maybe." He exhaled, slow. "But I didn't see any signs of one." He met Max's gaze. "The place is heavily secured."
Max's fingers curled into a fist. His jaw tightened. "We'll find out what's wrong when we get there."
Ash shifted, his tone lighter. "Oh yeah, I spoke to Rowan earlier."
Max's gaze snapped to him. "You did? Anything new?"
Ash shook his head. "Just our location update. He mentioned you've been in touch."
Max exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Yeah. The old communicator's still running." His voice dropped slightly. "I also called the base. Our fourth member is bringing our ride back to Vortex Base."
Kael smirked, stretching his arms. "Good. Speaking of which, we should get moving. If we leave now, we—"
The ground shuddered.
A low, guttural vibration crawled up their spines.
The air stiffened.
Then—
The world roared.
The sound split through the camp like a jagged blade, rattling bones.
Max whipped around. The stone bindings holding the Tier 6 Sandworm groaned, the stone cart beneath it trembling. A shiver ran through the creature's massive, segmented body.
Then it moved.
The air grew thick. Too thick.
Every breath felt heavy as the Creature's mew peeled open, revealing pits of black nothingness.
People froze.
The silence stretched—too long, too fragile.
Then—
Chaos.
The sandworm's body thrashed, the bindings snapping apart like twigs. Jaws unhinged, serrated teeth glinting under the dim light.
Max didn't hesitate.
His hand shot to his bag, fingers curling around a small glass vial.
He moved.
Faster.
The Creature reared, its gaping maw descending toward them.
Max's arm snapped forward—
Crack.
The vial shattered inside its throat.
A hiss followed. Then—
Screech.
The worm convulsed, its body writhing as the liquid seared through its insides. Its shriek shook the ground.
Then—
Thud.
The creature's massive head collapsed onto the cart, sand kicking up in thick clouds.
Silence.
The world stilled.
Max exhaled, the tension in his shoulders finally loosening. "And back to sleep you go."
The cart groaned under the Creature's weight but held firm. Around them, people stood rigid, wide-eyed, breaths uneven.
Kael let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Well… that was a fun wake-up call."
Max turned to the group, his voice cutting through the haze.
"Pack up. We're moving. Now."
The sands whispered of unseen horrors.
No one spoke. The only sounds were the rustling of bags, the scrape of Stone against stone, and the shallow, uneven breaths of the weary.
They moved fast. Too fast.
Earth users carved a temporary path beneath their feet, sand shifting unnaturally to clear the way. The cart groaned under its burden, wheels sinking slightly before being pulled forward.
Women held their children close, murmuring reassurances they didn't believe. The little ones clung to whatever comfort they could find—tiny hands gripping fabric, desperate eyes darting between the adults.
Max adjusted the strap of his bag, fingers brushing against the last vial of Maxveil.
One left.
His jaw tightened. His strides lengthened.
The caravan followed.
Hours passed under the weight of the sun. A merciless, suffocating presence. Sweat darkened fabric. Footsteps dragged. The early rush of energy from their last meal had faded, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.
At the rear, Ash's gaze locked onto a little girl struggling to keep up. Her small frame swayed, sand swallowing her steps.
His fingers twitched.
"[Activating Skill: Phantom's Stride]"
The air warped—
Then he was gone.
Max barely flicked his gaze backward as Ash reappeared beside him.
A sudden gust.
Max stiffened. "Damn it, don't do that," he muttered. "And stop using that ability."
Ash's usual smirk was absent. His voice cut through the heat. "Something wrong? You're pushing too hard."
Max didn't slow. Ash matched his pace.
"We need to keep moving."
"You do realize there are kids here?" Ash's tone dropped, low and sharp. "If you break them before we reach safety, we're as good as dead."
Max exhaled through gritted teeth. His grip tightened on his strap. "We only have one vial left."
Ash's eyes flickered with understanding. "That's—"
Max gave a single nod. "If that thing wakes up again and we're not ready, it's over."
Silence.
Ash turned away, gaze sweeping the dunes ahead. The fastest way was also the safest—wasn't it?
His stomach churned.
Faster wasn't an option. It was the only option.
"[Activating Skill: Phantom's Stride]"
Ash blurred out of existence.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared at the rear of the caravan, boots pressing into shifting sand. His breath was steady, but his pulse hammered.
Eyes sharp. Scanning. Searching.
Then—
A ripple. Subtle. Wrong.
Beneath the dunes, the sand moved—slithering unnaturally, parting in silent waves.
His stomach twisted.
They were not alone.
Then—
A screech. Not from the dunes. Not from the approaching threat.
The worm.
A piercing, mind-numbing shriek shattered the air.
The cart lurched. Stone groaned.
Max was already moving.
He grab the last vial from his bag. Glass caught the light, flashing as he hurled it toward the thrashing Creature.
Shatter.
A chemical burn. A sizzle.
The creature convulsed.
A monstrous body of writhing muscle seized before crashing against the cart, sending tremors through the ground. A final, guttural groan rumbled from its throat before—
Stillness.
Not dead. Not yet.
But sleeping.
For now.
Max turned, eyes cold as steel. His voice cut through the rising panic. "We're out of Maxveil."
A ripple of horror spread through the group.
Whispers. A sharp inhale. Someone cursed under their breath.
"We're dead."
A woman clutched her child, her fingers white-knuckled. "There… there has to be another way—"
Max silenced them with a look.
"Listen."
The word hit like a command. The murmurs died.
His voice was raw, edged with something dangerous. "I know you're exhausted. I know you think we won't make it. But I refuse to die here. And neither will you."
His gaze swept over them. Faces streaked with sweat, eyes shadowed with fear. But deep beneath the exhaustion—
A flicker. A spark.
Survival.
"We move. Now."
For a moment—silence.
Then—
A nod.
Another.
The shuffling of feet. Packs being slung over shoulders.
Ash watched them push forward. Watched their last shred of strength carry them forward.
His fingers curled into fists.
'We're close.'
His gaze flicked back toward the dunes, where the shadows writhed beneath the surface.
'But close isn't safe.'
His pulse thrummed.
'Can we make it before the worm wakes up?'