Vale and Eskar remained silent as the scorpion’s lifeless body continued to smolder.

  Azure flames crawled along its shattered shell for a few final seconds before dying out completely as Eskar cut off the flow of fire. Smoke rose in thick, curling plumes, drifting lazily into the open sky.

  Only then did the weight of the fight crash down on them.

  Both of them dropped to their knees almost simultaneously.

  Vale pressed a hand to his chest and groaned, pain erupting outward in sharp, radiating waves that stole the breath from his lungs. Every inhale felt jagged, as if his ribs were grinding together beneath his armor. His breathing came heavy and uneven, and sweat clung to his skin beneath the plates.

  It hurt.

  And yet, despite the pain, despite the burning in his chest, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

  They were alive.

  A soft crunch of sand announced a new presence.

  Vale looked up to see the old man approaching.

  Drago’s hunched figure cut an unassuming silhouette against the desert light as he walked toward them with his cane, his expression utterly indifferent. His sharp eyes settled on Vale, who lay half-reclined in the sand, one metallic arm clutched tightly against his side.

  Vale grinned up at him, pride flashing through the pain.

  “We did it,” he said.

  Drago stared at him for a long moment.

  Then he spoke.

  “You two are going to have to work on your adaptability.”

  And with that, he walked past them.

  Vale blinked, wide-eyed.

  For a second he just stared after the old man. Then he leaned back fully and let himself drop into the soft sand with a defeated groan.

  “Seriously?” he muttered sarcastically, staring up at the sky as the pain in his chest finally began to dull into a deep, aching throb.

  After a moment, Vale forced himself to his feet.

  He sheathed his onyx blade and began walking toward the scorpion’s corpse, careful to keep his movements measured as his body slowly recovered. Each step sent a dull ache through his ribs, but he pushed through it.

  Eskar sat atop the lifeless shell, his own onyx blade slick with azure blood. He tore a strip from his clothing and began wiping the blade clean,

  and Drago grabbed his wrist.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the old man asked sharply, his eyes narrowing.

  Eskar froze, then looked up at him, brow raised. “Cleaning my blade?”

  Drago let out a deep, weary sigh, irritation flickering through his voice.

  “This beast is food,” he said. “Food for creatures far stronger than you. So tell me, what do you think happens when you smear its blood all over yourself and start smelling like prey?”

  Eskar went still.

  A moment passed.

  Then, without a word, he released the blade and drove it back into the scorpion’s corpse.

  “…Right,” he said quietly. “Sorry. I’m not experienced with this.”

  He hesitated before adding, “So… what do we do with the body?”

  Vale stepped closer, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. I assume we can’t take everything. Not with predators around.”

  Drago nodded once and approached the corpse, examining its massive form.

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  “Rip its claws off,” he said. “We’ll use them as armor plating. The meat is still usable as well.”

  Vale exhaled and drew his blade.

  He raised it high and brought it down with all his strength.

  The onyx edge bit into the scorpion’s shell, but only barely. The carapace resisted, shrieking under the force before finally giving way. With a second, brutal strike, Vale severed the claw from the body.

  He sheathed his blade again and reached down.

  Eskar grabbed the other claw.

  He didn’t use his blade.

  With a grunt, he planted his feet and tore it free using raw strength alone.

  Vale’s eyes widened slightly.

  Eskar breathed heavily as he lifted the claw, then noticed Vale staring at him. He tilted his head.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Vale shook his head and lifted his own claw. Surprisingly, it wasn’t nearly as heavy as he’d expected.

  “No,” Vale said. “Just… thought it was strange you didn’t use your blade.”

  Eskar chuckled softly as he turned. “Yeah. Guess that is kind of strange of me.”

  They walked toward Drago, who stood a short distance away, facing the scorpion’s corpse.

  As Vale approached, uncertainty crept in. Drago didn’t seem rushed. If anything, he seemed… calm. Almost relaxed.

  Vale finally spoke. “So… what do we do now?”

  Drago glanced at him and gestured for both of them to sit.

  They lowered themselves beside him, overlooking the corpse.

  Azure blood continued to pour from the scorpion, sinking into the desert sand like liquid light. The ground darkened and shimmered as it absorbed the ichor.

  Silence settled over them.

  Vale didn’t mind.

  He was exhausted, bone-deep tired from a fight that had lasted barely half a minute but had nearly killed them both. Now that he had truly faced the creature, he was certain of one thing:

  If they hadn’t known its weakness, they would have died.

  No question.

  Drago finally broke the silence.

  “That body,” he said calmly, staring at the corpse as the sand beneath it began to ripple, “is an offering.”

  Vale frowned. “To who?”

  Drago smiled.

  It was the first time Vale had seen him do so.

  “A guardian of this desert.”

  Vale’s eyes widened as the sand beneath them began to tremble. At first, it was a low, almost imperceptible vibration, but it quickly intensified, shaking the ground in rolling waves beneath their knees. Dust puffed up around their feet as the rippling became more violent, the very earth seeming to pulse with life.

  Vale glanced down at the sand, heart hammering in his chest. “What… what’s happening?” he whispered, his voice barely steady.

  Drago, still seated on the sand, let his gaze drift over the trembling earth. A small, deliberate grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, rare, faint, and steady. “Don’t worry,” he said, voice calm and unhurried, “he won’t eat you.”

  Vale’s brow furrowed, but before he could ask more, the vibrations stopped as abruptly as they had started. The desert fell silent again. For a moment, all he could hear was the wind sweeping over the dunes.

  He turned to Drago, voice shaking slightly. “What… what was that?”

  Drago’s grin deepened, sharp and knowing. He tilted his head toward the edge of the dune. “Why don’t you ask its source?”

  Vale followed his gaze. Then, suddenly, jagged rocks erupted from the sand in a violent, almost explosive motion. Vale stumbled back a step as the shapes coalesced, revealing themselves in full.

  A massive beast rose from the sand.

  It was a wyvern, but nothing like the graceful predators Vale had seen in tales or histories. Its wings, broad and dripping with sand, were too thick and rigid for true flight, the membranes stretched wide across sandstone-like armor plating. Its eyes were hidden behind a dark, glossy membrane, giving it an alien, almost otherworldly appearance. Its tail, long and covered in jagged stone-like ridges, seemed built for combat rather than mobility.

  The beast sniffed the air, claws digging into the sand as it towered over them. Vale estimated its height, easily twelve meters tall, its body stretching dozens of meters long from snout to tail. Its sheer presence was suffocating.

  Slowly, methodically, the wyvern moved toward the scorpion’s corpse. It lowered its massive jaws and, with terrifying precision, began tearing chunks from the carcass. One wing pressed down against the sand, holding the scorpion steady as jagged teeth ripped through its tough shell. Vale’s body trembled, awe and fear battling for dominance.

  He swallowed hard and turned to Drago. “What… what is that?” he asked, voice tight with unease.

  Drago rose slowly, walking closer to the monstrous wyvern without so much as a hint of fear. His expression remained unreadable. “This,” he said, voice flat but carrying the weight of authority, “is a desert guardian.”

  Vale’s eyes darted between Drago and the wyvern, trying to reconcile the massive, armored creature with something as simple as a guardian.

  Drago continued, stepping closer as the wyvern finished the last pieces of the scorpion. “Not much is known about these creatures to the public,” he explained, voice low, deliberate. “But here’s what matters for you, by offering them food occasionally, you stay on their good side. More simply? They keep the biggest threats away, for a few weeks at least.”

  Vale blinked, trying to process the scale of what he was hearing. He too rose to his feet, holding the severed scorpion claw tightly. The wyvern’s head turned slowly to regard him and Eskar for a moment, its dark, hidden eyes giving nothing away. Then, with a sudden shudder of its massive wings and a swirl of sand, it sank back into the desert, vanishing almost instantly, leaving no trace behind.

  Vale exhaled shakily. “So… it’s like a bodyguard?” he asked, voice laced with curiosity and lingering fear.

  Drago shook his head and sighed. “If that’s how you want to see it, then yes. But keep this in mind, it only deals with the larger threats. Sand dragons, death wyrms, beings like that. The scorpions, the smaller predators… those are still your responsibility.”

  The enormity of the desert’s dangers weighed heavily on Vale as he looked back at the empty sand where the wyvern had disappeared. His grip tightened on the claw, unease creeping up his spine.

  Finally, he turned toward Drago, who was already striding past him, unhurried, his thick robe trailing across the dunes. Vale followed, the sound of sand crunching beneath his boots loud in the silence.

  “I see,”