Vale’s eyes widened, then narrowed again, his breath catching in his throat as the two giants of the desert faced one another.

  The wyvern stood unmoving, its massive frame anchored deep into the sand. Its gaze was locked onto the sand dragon, unblinking and resolute. A grim determination seemed to ripple across its jagged, rock-like scales, as though the creature itself had already accepted the outcome of the battle. Vale found himself unable to look away. His body felt rigid, his pulse loud in his ears as he swallowed in careful anticipation.

  For a single, fragile moment, the desert was silent.

  Then both beasts roared.

  The sand dragon cried out first, its roar sharp and furious, a declaration of challenge hurled at a foe far larger than itself. The wyvern answered in kind, its roar deeper, heavier, resonating through the dunes like distant thunder rolling beneath the earth. The force of their voices alone sent sand bursting upward beneath their feet, ripples racing outward as if the desert itself recoiled.

  Vale raised an arm instinctively, shielding his face from the flying grit, peering through narrowed eyes just as the two titans charged.

  They collided with catastrophic force.

  The impact echoed across the wasteland, a sound so immense it felt less like a clash and more like the breaking of the world itself. The ground trembled violently beneath Vale’s feet as stone met scale and raw strength met defiant fury. Though smaller, the sand dragon held its ground, muscles coiled and straining as it pushed back against the wyvern’s overwhelming mass.

  For a heartbeat, they were locked together, two living forces of nature grinding against one another.

  Then the wyvern shifted.

  With a powerful sweep of its wing, it struck the dragon’s flank and sent it skidding across the sand. The dragon carved a deep scar through the dunes as it struggled to halt its momentum. Before it could fully recover, the wyvern surged forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat and slamming its wing down with crushing force.

  The dragon was driven into the sand.

  The wyvern lowered its massive head, jaws opening wide as it pinned its opponent beneath sheer weight, preparing to bite deep through hardened scales and end the battle then and there.

  But the dragon refused to yield.

  Its maw ignited in an instant, flames erupting outward in a violent torrent. The blast struck the wyvern head-on, engulfing its chest and neck in searing heat and light. The sheer force of the flames sent the wyvern flying backward, crashing into the sand before it rolled and regained its footing with a rumbling growl.

  Vale’s breath caught.

  “No way…” he whispered, barely aware of his own voice.

  Drago glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  Vale’s gaze snapped back to the wyvern, and his disbelief deepened.

  Where the dragon’s flames had struck, the wyvern’s scales were not burned. Instead, they glowed a brilliant orange, pulsing as though alive with stolen heat. Slowly, unnaturally, the glow darkened. The orange faded into deep obsidian black, the surface hardening and reforming, ember sparks faintly dancing across its chest.

  “These creatures,” Drago said calmly as the battle unfolded, “have evolved over millions of years to counter sand dragons, not through size alone.”

  The wyvern licked its jagged maw, its eyes gleaming as it fixed the dragon with a predatory, knowing stare.

  “Their scales absorb the heat of a dragon’s flames,” Drago continued. “They turn that power against them.”

  As his words faded, the wyvern roared once more, its chest now fully obsidian, glowing faintly with residual embers. The sound was deafening, a proclamation of dominance that rolled across the dunes.

  The sand dragon recoiled, hissing violently. It forced itself upright, fury burning in its gaze as it stared back at the wyvern. For a brief moment, silence reclaimed the battlefield as the two giants circled one another, sand crunching beneath titanic weight.

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  Vale leaned forward unconsciously, heart pounding.

  At his side, Eskar appeared without a word. He crossed his arms, watching the clash with narrowed eyes, his expression strangely calm, almost indifferent, even in the presence of such overwhelming power.

  Then the dragon struck again.

  With a powerful beat of its wings, it launched itself forward, rising just enough to bring one massive forelimb crashing down. Its claws raked across the wyvern’s head, the impact staggering the larger beast and forcing it low for an instant.

  That instant was all it took.

  The wyvern snapped forward with terrifying speed. Its jaws clamped around the dragon’s neck, stone teeth piercing scale as the dragon screamed in agony. Crimson blood sprayed across the sand, staining the dunes as the wyvern twisted its body and hurled the dragon away.

  The dragon crashed into the desert, a towering cloud of sand erupting around it. When the dust settled, it lay there, broken, gasping, utterly powerless.

  Slowly, deliberately, the wyvern advanced.

  When it reached the fallen dragon, it placed one massive wing across its body, pinning it to the ground. The wyvern lowered its head, staring down at its defeated foe for a long, heavy moment.

  Then it roared.

  The sound was absolute, a declaration of victory that shook the desert to its core.

  The dragon hissed weakly in response.

  And then, unexpectedly, the wyvern stepped back.

  It lifted its wing and gave the dragon space.

  The message was unmistakable.

  Live and leave.

  The dragon did not hesitate. With what little strength remained, it dragged itself upright and vanished beneath the sand, retreating into the depths from which it had emerged.

  The wyvern watched until it was gone.

  Only then did it turn its massive head toward Vale, Eskar, and Drago. Its gaze lingered for a brief, unreadable moment before it lowered itself and sank back into the desert, disappearing beneath the sand as though it had never been there.

  Silence returned.

  Vale stared at the empty dunes, his mind struggling to catch up.

  “…That’s it?” he muttered.

  Drago glanced at him as he rose and adjusted his robes. “Yes,” he said plainly. “Desert guardians aren’t killers. They only kill when necessary.”

  He turned and began walking as though nothing extraordinary had occurred.

  Eskar exhaled deeply and placed a hand on Vale’s shoulder. “Hey,” he said with a faint grin. “We survived another day.”

  Vale nodded slowly, though his gaze lingered on the barren expanse where titans had clashed moments before. Confusion and awe twisted together in his chest as he finally turned and followed them, casting one last look back at the silent desert that had already swallowed every trace of the battle.

  Vale walked a short distance behind the others, his gaze drifting across the endless expanse of sand stretching out before them. He said nothing. The desert rolled on in silent waves, unchanging and merciless, and as his boots pressed into the dunes his thoughts wandered far from the present.

  He thought of the others.

  Callum. Evelyn. Yuki.

  He wondered what they were doing now, whether they had noticed their absence yet, whether concern had already turned into fear. Had they sent people searching? Were they pacing halls, replaying lessons, blaming themselves for not stopping them? Vale clenched his jaw slightly. There was no way to know. No way to reach them. The distance between worlds felt heavier than the desert itself.

  After several hours of travel, Drago raised a hand, halting them.

  The old man turned slowly, his expression as unreadable as ever. His eyes dropped briefly to their weapons, lingering there just long enough to draw Eskar’s attention.

  Eskar exhaled through his nose and crossed his arms.

  “There’s a scorpion, isn’t there?” he asked flatly.

  Drago did not answer immediately. He stood still, listening, feeling the sand beneath his feet. Then he nodded once.

  “There is,” he said. “And remember what you did yesterday.”

  His gaze sharpened slightly.

  “Don’t do that again.”

  Vale’s eyes widened a fraction. “Then what are we supposed to do?” he asked, confusion slipping into his voice.

  Drago let out a slow, tired sigh, as though explaining this was more effort than the hunt itself.

  “Scorpions sense vibrations through the hairs on their legs,” he said. “Every movement you make is announced to them through the sand. But their attention always locks onto the strongest vibrations.”

  Vale’s brow furrowed, then lifted as understanding dawned.

  “One of you draws its focus up close,” Drago continued. “Moves loudly. Deliberately. The other circles wide and strikes from behind. If it never realizes you’re there, the kill is instant.”

  He paused, letting the weight of the instruction settle.

  “Unlike yesterday.”

  The implication was clear.

  “Do you understand?”

  Vale and Eskar nodded slowly.

  Eskar was the first to speak. “Where is it?”

  Drago turned and pointed over his shoulder, toward a towering dune they had yet to cross.

  “Right behind that.”

  Vale swallowed and adjusted his grip on his weapon, releasing a slow breath to steady himself.

  “I’ll be the bait this time,” Eskar said suddenly.

  Vale turned to him at once. “Your abilities are more valuable. I should be”

  Eskar cut him off before he could finish.

  “You were the one nearly crushed yesterday,” he said evenly. “I’ll be the one in danger today.”

  There was no anger in his voice, only certainty.

  Without waiting for a response, Eskar started toward the dune, his steps deliberate, heavy enough to send clear vibrations through the sand.

  Vale watched him go for a moment, jaw tight. Then he exhaled sharply. Arguing now would waste time, and time was something the desert did not forgive.

  He moved in the opposite direction, circling wide around the dune. Each step was careful, light, measured. The sand shifted beneath him as he crested the slope, eyes scanning for the telltale shape of obsidian armor and snapping claws.

  Another obstacle.

  Another kill.

  Vale steadied his breathing, blade ready, as he slipped into position, silent, unseen, preparing to strike before the scorpion ever realized it was being hunted.