The desert heat was a physical assault.

  Even with his Physical Cultivation and new bloodline, Nathan felt his skin crawl as if pricked by a thousand invisible needles. Yet, a quick scan revealed he was faring better than the others; he wasn't hemorrhaging water like a wrung sponge.

  The linked platforms hovered inches above the dunes. The group behind him exchanged hesitant glances as the first heatwave slammed into them.

  On the cliff above, Aotian offered a final nod and a grim smile before retreating inside. Prince Daniel merely smirked, like an emperor watching fools march to their doom.

  “I’m Minato,” the Stormcrown Tier 3 said, extending a hand. “We’re counting on you.”

  Nathan nodded, turning his gaze forward.

  The view from above hadn't done justice to the reality. An endless sea of yellow stretched to the horizon, high dunes erasing all memory of brown earth or green trees. The air was thick, scorching, and suffocating.

  “Mana dome established!” Frank announced.

  A warning from Aotian flashed on PsiLink. The Captain was fulfilling his duty to the end, feeding them intel. He had registered their movement and the mana disturbance caused by the transport. The enemy wasn't blind; the mana signature was a beacon, guiding them straight to Nathan's group.

  “Last chance,” Nathan warned. “Once we launch, there is no turning back.”

  “Go,” Minato replied. “If anyone under my command hesitates, I’ll cut them down myself.”

  Nathan frowned at the ruthlessness but remained silent.

  The sand hissed beneath the platform. Though his vision was obscured by heat haze, he knew deadly traps waited in the dunes. He had underestimated the cost of a Tier 5 sacrifice. This wasn't just a desert; it was a weaponized environment, harsher than the deepest wilds of Mirothea.

  Nathan checked the timer. Three seconds. He swung his arm, hurling a Beast Bag forward. A flash of white light erupted, and a creature expanded from speck to behemoth in the blink of an eye.

  ROARRR!

  Argentius’s roar assaulted their eardrums. The beast’s muscular frame, rippling under white fur striped with black, forced everyone to take an involuntary step back.

  Argentius’s whiskers twitched. He gazed up at the cliff, locking eyes with the crowd peering down. With a contemptuous snort that shook his entire frame, he curled his lip in a sneer.

  He lowered his massive head, allowing Nathan to place a hand on his snout.

  “Man, you’re huge,” Nathan exclaimed.

  A low rumble vibrated from the tiger's throat, translating in Nathan's mind: “This is normal for my kind upon reaching Tier 3.”

  Nathan estimated his companion had grown by a third. It was hard to reconcile this majestic beast with the monster that had beaten him half to death in Moirath Forest.

  “I hate your scent,” Argentius growled mentally, fur bristling. “I made a pact with you, not for you to carry the blood of those treacherous worms. When will the True Bloodline return?”

  “No time for that,” Nathan said. “Tell me truthfully. What is your current combat potential?”

  “I rival your Peak Tier 3s. Easily.”

  Nathan nodded, turning to the terrified group.

  “You actually have a foundation for this insanity,” Minato laughed, eyeing the tiger. “The fools on the cliff would probably shoot themselves in the foot to trade places with us right now.”

  Ignoring the remark, Nathan signaled Argentius to the rear.

  “Reverse arrowhead?” Minato asked.

  “Correct,” Zeryn replied as Nathan briefed the beast. “We three face the rear—the enemy advance. We intercept attacks to protect the Tier 2s, who cover our flanks. Argentius pulls the platform westward, straight for the Verdant Spire. That is the ideal scenario.”

  “Ideal scenario?” Minato frowned.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Enemy in sight!” a disciple shouted, lowering a spyglass.

  Nathan wasted no time. He secured Argentius with physical and mana-weave harnesses. The tiger complained incessantly but submitted to the indignity.

  Returning to the arrowhead's tip, Nathan took a breath. Left: Zeryn. Right: Minato. Frank and Elen stood directly behind, burdened with supplies and rations.

  “Here goes nothing,” Nathan muttered.

  Go.

  Argentius roared, muscles bunching. With a violent jerk, the massive tiger surged forward, dragging the platform behind him.

  The nineteen passengers adjusted their stances as the platform tilted. They skimmed the sand's surface, accelerating toward the horizon.

  “The air is thick,” Argentius announced, concern leaking into his mental voice. “Friction is higher than anticipated. Reaching target velocity will be difficult.”

  “Noticed,” Nathan replied, tweaking the platform's angle mentally.

  Argentius’s Wind Aspect formed a sleek membrane around his frame, shedding sand and splitting the airflow to shield the group. Yet, the mana dome flickered constantly at the edges, signaling a barrage of collisions.

  “Don't overextend, Argy.”

  “Do not call me that.”

  "The sand and air are weaponized," Nathan shouted over the wind. "Do not fall off. The desert shows no mercy."

  Apprehensive looks answered him.

  “Zeryn, you're up.”

  “This feels ridiculous,” Zeryn muttered, conjuring floating blades. They angled up and slashed toward Nathan.

  Nathan raised his gauntlet to block. “Trust me!”

  Minato watched them with open skepticism, as if witnessing a circus act.

  Triggered [Battle Trance]. One credit given.

  Triggered [Battle Trance]. One credit given.

  The stack climbed. Nathan threw a test jab. The snap of the punch made him inhale sharply. He had spent months adjusting to his limits without [Titan’s Descendant]. Now, with [Dragon Heart], the limiter was gone. He had to recalibrate everything.

  “What in the hells are you doing?” Minato asked, eyeing the shadowboxing.

  “Calibrating,” Nathan replied. “Just watch the horizon.”

  The ponytailed Tier 3 shrugged and scanned the distance. “Where is that attack force?”

  Nathan strained his eyes. Even with [Better Vision], the horizon was empty.

  He closed his eyes, left hand mechanically blocking Zeryn to maintain the Battle Trance.

  Through the soles of his feet, [Seismic Sense] painted the world. The platform bobbed with the terrain, feeding him data. A 3D map of a ten-meter radius constructed itself in his mind, sharpened by the vibrations reaching his ears.

  “From below!”

  The sand exploded. A five-meter scorpion erupted from the dune, red pincers glowing like magma. The ambient temperature spiked.

  Argentius snarled, jerking the formation hard to the right. A wall of thermal energy washed over them, vibrating the mana dome until it hummed.

  A rider sat perched on the glossy-shelled scorpion, drawing a bow. Sharp eyes, framed by a desert cloak, radiated killing intent.

  Nathan leaped, his sword carving an arc to intercept the arrow. Zeryn mirrored him on his flying blade, keeping pace. With a pulse of a Mana Blast, Nathan landed back on the platform.

  Before he could breathe, another scorpion breached the sand to his left, tail leveled at him. A whistle tore the air. Clang! Sword met stinger. Sparks flew, followed by an explosion of dark green, toxic smoke.

  A Wind Aspect user behind him inhaled deeply and blew, driving the poison cloud back before it could engulf the group.

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  Nathan, the interceptor, took the brunt of it.

  Triggered [Poison Processing]. One credit given.

  “Medicine!” he rasped, throat burning.

  He caught the pill Frank flicked his way. Even with [Poison Processing] and the antidote, his nerves tingled incessantly.

  “Can you hold?” Zeryn shouted.

  “I'm fine,” Nathan gritted out.

  [Healing Factor] was already purging the toxin. He had sunk 1,100 credits to boost it to Level 3, sacrificing upgrades for [Amplifying Strike], but right now, it was worth every penny.

  Two arrows shrieked through the wind. Nathan blurred, creating two intercepting streaks.

  Triggered [Amplifying Strike]. One credit given.

  Triggered [Flowing Strikes]. One credit given.

  He exhaled, confidence surging. [Dragon Heart] didn't offer the invincibility of [Titan’s Descendant], but the draconic resilience was leagues above his base human form.

  His relief died instantly. [Seismic Sense] painted a nightmare, raising the hairs on his neck.

  A horde erupted from the sand, flanking the scorpions. They were faster—terrifyingly so—and had already encircled the formation.

  Glass-scaled Sidewinders tasted the air, tongues flicking. A terrified disciple panicked, slashing out a blazing arc of fire.

  “No!” Minato screamed. Too late.

  The fire struck true but failed to penetrate. Instead, the shiny scales shattered. In mid-air, the shards turned obsidian black and reversed course, shooting straight for the mana dome. They impacted with a sickening sizzle.

  “Suffocate them or sever the heads!” Minato ordered. “One hit kills only! Do not shatter the scales!”

  Nathan clenched his jaw. His right hand became a kinetic barrier, deflecting scorpion-rider arrows and swatting away the deadly obsidian shards from the Sidewinders.

  His right hand was a blur; his left remained locked in a dance with Zeryn’s blade to maintain the Battle Trance. The speed was disorienting for the others—Minato cursed every time Nathan flashed across his line of sight—but the results were undeniable. Nothing got past. As for the scorpion stingers, Nathan threw himself into the poison clouds, letting [Healing Factor] burn through the toxin. His skin would gray, then flush with health in seconds, re-establishing him as the group's unshakeable shield.

  “Hold the line!” Nathan roared.

  The sixteen disciples rallied, gathering their mana. They were exhausted, running on fumes, but survival had forged them into the elite.

  Water orbs encased the Sidewinders, drowning the desert creatures in their antithesis. Metal Aspect slashes decapitated those that broke free. Support Casters waited for openings, firing Mana Bullets down gaping maws to detonate the monsters from the inside.

  But the Sidewinders were a distraction. [Seismic Sense] pulsed with a massive, indistinct signature deep beneath the sands—something huge, moving fast.

  “Incline ahead!” Argentius warned.

  The platform pitched upward, scaling the face of a massive dune. Even with [Improved Balance], Nathan staggered. Behind him, the disciples crouched low, fighting gravity.

  The angle exposed them. The formation’s underbelly was open, granting the enemy clear lines of fire beyond the arrowhead's tip.

  “Minato, tether me!” Nathan commanded.

  He leaped into the void. Without flight or anti-grav boots, it was a gamble, but he needed the elevation.

  A wind tether snapped around his waist, anchoring him to Minato. Zeryn’s floating blade pursued him, slashing at his left hand to keep the combo alive. Nathan’s eyes darted, tracking the dozens of projectiles screaming toward them.

  He lunged, and Minato fed him slack. Nathan’s blade glowed blue, arcs of mana cutting with the supernatural precision of [Martial Arts Mastery]. Sidewinder shards collided with scorpion venom, detonating in mid-air. He held his breath, eyes closed, letting instinct take the wheel. He blocked blindly, his arm burning as he wove a storm of steel, deflecting every lethal intent aimed at his team.

  He touched down, coughing violently as the poison cleared. Frank and Elen were ready, tossing him rations and antidotes.

  “Weirdest fighting style I’ve ever seen,” Minato yelled. “But it works. You sure you're Tier 2?”

  Nathan smirked, but the expression vanished instantly.

  “Argy! Hard right!”

  A sonic shriek pierced the air. Hands flew to ears as Argentius swerved, barely evading the ambush. A pack of Sandhowlers—fennec-like beasts with oversized ears—surfaced, mouths unhinged, screaming at the group.

  “Fire!” Nathan roared, fighting the vertigo.

  A volley of Mana Bullets tore into the dune. The explosion sent the Sandhowlers tumbling. As the dust settled, a figure was revealed atop a Dunehaunter—a flutist, lips pursed, blowing a sharp note.

  The Sandhowlers’ ears twitched. Obeying the command, they burrowed, vanishing beneath the sand.

  Nathan felt a warm wetness on his neck. He wiped blood from his ruptured eardrum, eyes scanning the terrain. They were cresting the dune.

  From the dune's crest, Nathan scanned the Mirothean border, now a hazy line of barren mountains. The cave shelter was a speck in the distance, swallowed by the vastness.

  Heat haze warped the air, blurring his vision. Yet, something was moving through the distortion—a tearing, shifting blur. [Improved Pattern Recognition] seized the data, assembling the fragmented images pixel by pixel. A crescent-shaped mound cut through the sand.

  Something colossal was hunting them.

  Argentius leaped, clearing the ridge. The formation went airborne, carried by inertia. Suspended in that second of weightlessness, Nathan double-checked. [Seismic Sense] was blind—the target was out of range—but his eyes confirmed the nightmare.

  “Shit!”

  The platform slammed back onto the sand. Despite the magnetic anchors, disciples stumbled. They recovered instantly, eyes snapping to Argentius, who charged ahead. Behind them, tornadoes of unnatural sand raced to close the gap.

  They were the meat in the grinder.

  “Status?” Minato barked.

  “Can you stop those?” Nathan pointed at the twin cyclones tearing up the desert.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m getting reckless!”

  Minato moved. The wind bent to his will, coalescing into visible streams. Two artificial tornadoes flanked the group—small, spindly siblings to the destruction bearing down on them.

  Nathan spun around. The enemy didn't climb the dune; they pierced straight through its face, cutting the distance in a heartbeat.

  Zeryn slapped small blades onto Nathan’s belt. With a flick of a finger, he launched Nathan into the sky.

  Zeryn maneuvered him like a crane game prize. Nathan clasped his hands behind his back toward the sky, fearlessly exposing his chest. Passive skills hummed. Berserker State: 33%.

  Boom!

  The impact between his palms created a sandstorm. The Dunehaunter’s pincer buckled under Nathan's descent, the recoil shuddering through its carapace.

  Triggered [Rebound]. One credit given.

  A second shockwave blasted the monster backward. The rider, eyes wide with shock, unbuckled his saddle and launched himself at Nathan.

  The enemy's katars sparked against Nathan’s block. Then, the rigid blades warped mid-strike, bending around his guard to stab. Qi Armor and mana barriers flared, screaming under the metal's bite.

  Triggered [Counter Strike]. One credit given.

  [Martial Arts Mastery] and [Counter Strike] synced perfectly. Nathan spun, driving a knee into the rider’s solar plexus. As the man gagged, Nathan used him as a fulcrum, slamming him into the path of a scorpion's stinger before launching himself toward the Sandhowler controller.

  A unified sonic scream hit him like a physical wall. His advance stalled. Gritting his teeth, he retreated to Zeryn’s side to shield the formation.

  The Mirothean rider encased himself in a sand sphere, surviving the fall. He remounted his Dunehaunter, resuming the chase.

  The PsiLink map flashed. A white dot appeared to their left—stranded disciples. Nathan sent the coordinates. A moment later, he signaled Argentius to bank left.

  “We don't have time for charity, Nathan!” Minato yelled over the roar of his tornadoes, which had grown so powerful they threatened to destabilize the platform.

  “We need reinforcements,” Nathan countered. “Nineteen is not enough.”

  Minato grit his teeth but complied. He thrust his hands forward, sending the twin cyclones colliding into the enemy's sandstorm. The impact unleashed a frenzy of invisible wind blades. The mana dome flickered, on the verge of collapse. Nathan slammed another Supreme Mana Stone into the array without hesitation.

  Seeing the greed in their eyes, he scowled. “Focus, or I kill you myself!”

  The mana wall solidified again.

  The collision bought them a moment, forcing the enemy back.

  The detour ended at a sand fissure. Thirty survivors scrambled out, faces haggard and parched, sprinting toward salvation.

  “Help us!” the leader screamed.

  “We can't land! Get on!” Minato roared.

  Minato manipulated the wind, pushing the fleeing group toward the platform. An arrow whistled past, tearing a straggler to pieces. The hungry sand swallowed the blood and flesh instantly.

  Nathan bit his lip until it bled, glaring at the attacker—the same rider he had just kicked off the scorpion. The man winked. Nathan forced a breath, swallowing his rage. The harsh reality settled in.

  He could not save everyone.

  More arrows. More blood misting the hot air.

  Argentius banked hard. The survivors used Mana Blasts to launch themselves onto the passing platform, scrambling for purchase at the edge.

  Relief washed over them, quickly replaced by anger. A one-eyed man staggered up. “You call this help? You left them to die!”

  Shing! Minato’s blade pressed against the man’s throat. “Sit. Recover. Fight. Or I throw you back off.”

  The protests died.

  “Shift change!” a disciple called out.

  The newcomers huddled around the Supreme Mana Stone, absorbing its ambient energy. They whispered, eyeing Nathan’s demonic speed with a mix of fear and awe.

  As the numbers swelled, Nathan deployed another platform tile. It snapped into place, expanding their floor space. It would drain more energy, but they had no choice.

  PsiLink lit up again. His initial broadcast had reached dozens of stranded groups. Seeing the rescue force, their desperation boiled over.

  Voice messages flooded his mind, a cacophony of pleas.

  “Help us! Please!”

  “We’re here! Pick us up!”

  “Dropped by near us. We have fifty people. We can help you fight against the enemy.”

  “We have too many wounded. Please take us home!”

  “Nathan? It’s Roran. Can you reach us?”

  “Senior Brother! Twenty of us here! We need extraction!”

  The front had shattered completely. Nathan finally grasped the horror of the terraforming event. The environment itself was the enemy. Even Argentius, a Tier 3 beast, struggled against the razor-sharp dust filling the air.

  Nathan’s eyes were bloodshot. He tried to triangulate every plea on the map, watching white dots multiply.

  He defended the rear single-handedly, parrying projectiles while enduring the Sandhowlers’ screams. Without [Healing Factor] and [Dragon Heart], his eardrums would have burst long ago. Blood streamed from his nose and ears, recycled endlessly by his regeneration.

  Zeryn looked at him, terror in his eyes. “Nate! End this. Just say the word, and we get out of here.”

  “And go where?” Nathan’s voice cracked. “To a worse nightmare? Knowing I abandoned them?”

  The words hung in the air.

  He looked at Frank, at Elen. The weight of their trust was crushing. He could have left them with Aotian or Daniel, but they chose him. They chose this fight.

  He might not care for the strangers, but he refused to let his comrades die. Roran, Xander, Zahra—they were out there. This path was their only chance.

  “Nate,” Zeryn said heavily. “You can't save everyone. Make the call.”

  Nathan nodded, swatting an arrow aside.

  He drew a jagged line on the map and broadcasted it. A tsunami of curses flooded back immediately.

  “Nathan Reed! You won't die a peaceful death!”

  “Why are you abandoning us? Please, you just have to detour a few hundred meters.”

  “What the fuck are you doing? You could save a dozen lives with just a two-minute detour, and you won't do it?”

  “Thank you, Nathan! We will be waiting.”

  “Senior brother, we are ready to bring us home.”

  Nathan closed his eyes, heart tearing. He had never held the scales of life and death before. Breath came in shallow gasps. Panic seized his chest.

  Triggered [Self-emotional Support]. One credit given.

  Triggered [Mind of Tranquility]. One credit given.

  I’m not God. And even God isn't almighty.

  If he died, everyone died. If his team fell, the strangers wouldn't matter. This was the only way.

  He ignored the curses and focused on the path.

  In the distance, the desert exploded. A geyser of sand blotted out the sky. A colossal form rose, blocking the sun—cylindrical, two hundred meters long, a living skyscraper of flesh. Its maw was a jagged nightmare of fangs and bristles. Its hide shimmered with glossy gold rings, pulsing with energy.

  The Rift Burrower. Its maw opened, revealing not a throat, but a singularity—a black hole that warped the space around it.

  The roar hit them like a physical wave.

  Before their horrified eyes, the worm didn't attack. It retched. A massive army, vast enough to darken the sky, spewed from the mouth of the floating leviathan.