Zabo screamed as Violet dived towards the injured people below. He felt the griffin’s talons clamp onto his collar, its swing throwing his body back and forth before releasing him several feet in the air. He landed on the ground, using his chains to absorb the force. Tumbling through the rocky terrain, he rolled onto his back and watched the rest of them land safely. Sand entered through his neck and clung to his dreadlocks. I hate that bird, Zabo cursed.
The griffin landed softly, the massive beast’s wings folding in as it kicked up a cloud of dust. Sabir, clinging onto Maize’s waist, squinted through the dust storm. While exhausted, he stayed alert, his eyes trailing towards the wreckage they had spotted above. The air was thick with the smell of blood.
He noticed Elektra lying on the ground, her body full of bruises, though he could still make out her chest falling and rising; sadly still breathing. I thought I got lucky. The world truly did not favour him. He had witnessed the largest monster he had ever seen gobble her whole, only for her to still be alive.
Sabir shifted his vision to the other person. Close to her, the man they called Saliba was practically buried in the sand, his form barely distinguishable beneath the layer of dust and debris that had settled on top of him. He must’ve been thrown during the chaos, Sabir thought.
But there was someone else there that caught Sabir’s breath in his throat. A man whose face was seared into his memory. Locked away as fuel for his revenge. Frederick. He was injured, but far less than the others. In his hand, he clenched a large metallic briefcase. Blood matted his graying hair, and periodically his eyes flickered open.
The sight of him alive, squirming in pain, reignited his fury. The words that his sister spoke during that dream had to be put to the side. It was just a dream anyway, Sabir rationalised in his head. Frederick wasn’t just some old man, that served nobles like a slave. No. To Sabir, he was a murderer, the man responsible for taking his sister from him.
Gritting his teeth, Sabir marched towards Frederick, moving past Warren and Elektra, who appeared blurry in his periphery. With his vision narrowed, his eyes only focused on Frederick, his heart pounded in his ears. All he could see was his sister’s face, her smile, the way she’d always believed in him. She was gone now, and this man—this murderer—was responsible.
Frederick seemed to sense Sabir's approach. He writhed on the ground in response. He jerked upright, his eyes wild with pain and a fury of his own. Without warning, he lurched towards Sabir, using his free hand; it shot towards Sabir’s throat. The old man’s grip was firm, too strong for someone in his condition, and Sabir gasped for air as Frederick’s fingers tightened.
In his mind, Sabir saw flashes of his sister’s death again—Frederick’s doing. He fought back, instinctively clawing at Frederick’s arms, trying to break free. His vision blurred as the lack of oxygen took its toll.
“Sabir!” Warren shouted, running towards his friend. His voice sounded muffled to Sabir, the ringing in his ears drowning any clarity.
Warren wrestled with Fredrick’s grip before pushing him off Sabir. Finally, being able to breathe, Sabir took a sharp intake of breath, before Zabo rushed towards them and performed a low kick, striking Frederick in the chest, knocking out Frederick entirely.
“Crazy ass old man,” Zabo muttered, shaking his head as Frederick slumped to the ground.
Warren put an arm around Sabir’s shoulders. “You okay?” he whispered.
Sabir pushed Warren off him, his anger still boiling over. “Let me at him! I’m not done with him yet!” he growled, his voice hoarse from the near-strangulation.
Warren, the ever level-headed one, quickly grabbed Sabir, wrapping his arms around him, keeping him in place. “You need to relax, Sabir,” Warren said sternly. “We need all the survivors we can get. Whether or not we like it, there are worse things out here than Frederick.”
Sabir’s hands shook with rage. He knew Warren was right, but the urge to finish what he started raged within him. It would be so easy, Sabir thought, looking at Frederick’s unconscious form with disgust. Deep down, Sabir knew this was just the beginning. By the end of this expedition, either Frederick or a wild monster would be his end. He felt it in his bones.
Maize, who had been tending to Elektra, finally woke the noblewoman up. Elektra blinked slowly, her eyes glassy with confusion as she struggled to sit up. “Is this... all a dream?” she murmured, her voice faint.
Maize ignored her question, opting to reach into Elektra’s pocket and pull out a small vial of ambrosia. The precious liquid shimmered in the light. “I wish it was. But this is very real,” she replied, her tone somber. Lifting the vial, she placed it between Elektra’s lips and gently opened her mouth.
“Here,” Maize said, “This will help.”
Elektra grimaced as she swallowed the liquid, but within moments, her eyes cleared, her strength slowly returning.
“We need to get the others up,” Maize said, turning to Warren, Sabir, and Zabo. “Each of the men should have a vial of ambrosia on them. Go. We have little time.”
Warren nodded in agreement, moving towards Frederick, he tended to him. Zabo looked less enthusiastic as he made his way over to Rudiger, whose unconscious form was half-buried under a pile of debris. Sabir clicked his tongue, annoyed with how this was all developing. He approached Saliba, deeply buried in the sand.
Sabir gripped onto Saliba’s leg that stuck out through the sand. He heaved, pulling him out. Under the force, Sabir buckled backwards, Saliba’s limp body rocketed out, his body caked with dirt. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Sabir searched Saliba’s pockets for the vial. After a moment of fumbling, his fingers closed around the small glass container.
Warren had already administered Frederick’s vial, and Zabo was glaring at Rudiger as he stood over him, vial in hand. “No way I’m kissing him,” Zabo muttered as he poured the contents of the vial into Rudiger’s mouth with a grimace.
Sabir followed suit, tilting Saliba’s head back and pouring the ambrosia into his mouth. Saliba’s body twitched for a moment before he took a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering open.
One by one, Elektra, Rudiger, and Saliba slowly regained consciousness, the effects of the ambrosia bringing them back from the brink. Frederick, too, stirred, though Sabir wished he hadn’t.
The eight of them slowly regrouped. Warren quickly stood between Frederick and Sabir, his eyes flicked between them both, wary of any further outbursts.
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Elektra rubbed her temples, trying to shake off the fog that still lingered in her mind. “What... what happened?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
Beside Violet, Maize stood tall, looking at the sky as she frowned. “We were attacked,” she said simply. “That monster is still out there somewhere.”
Elektra aggressively rubbed her temples. “I’ve seen nothing like that monster in any textbook or encyclopedia. When the hell did that thing arrive?”
Elektra was still disoriented as she blinked against the hard sunlight. Her arms and legs felt like they were made of lead, and every breath she took was short and forced. Maize, always watchful, kept a hand on Elektra’s shoulder, making sure she didn’t fall over while trying to get herself upright.
“Take it easy,” Maize murmured, a flicker of concern crossing her face.
Elektra winced, massaging her temples as if to force the fogginess from her mind. “Where are we?” Her voice was weak, a stark contrast to the confident lilt Sabir associated with her.
“We’re further out in the wasteland,” Maize replied, her grip tightening slightly as Elektra swayed. “Take it slow. We’re lucky to still be alive.”
A short distance away, Rudiger was coughing his heart out, the ambrosia effect taking hold. The man had the color of a corpse. He groaned as he clutched his side, wincing in pain with every movement. His hand came away stained with blood, though not enough to be fatal. The wound was deep, but Rudiger had always been resilient, more than willing to fight through the pain.
“I can’t say I’ve ever been more thankful for that awful elixir,” Rudiger said between agonized breaths. Pained and still holding onto some shred of sarcasm, he inched his way back up to a seated position while Frederick stood over him, watching with a keen eye.
As Saliba sat up, he spat grains of sand from his mouth. He looked around. Instinctively, he was looking for monsters. He was unfocused, the near death experience having throughly spooked him. He was a fighter through and through, and even half-buried and half-dead, he was still ready for battle.
“Are we under attack yet again?” Saliba rasped, his voice rough. His gaze darted around, as if expecting another threat to emerge at any moment.
“No,” Maize replied, head shaking. “But we don’t have long before something else finds us.”
Saliba spat again, this time in frustration, as he shook the sand out of his hair. “Feels like we’re never gonna catch a break.”
Sabir stood behind Frederick and saw the old man move, his eyes opening to narrow slits. Frederick’s breathing began shallow, but as the ambrosia worked its magic, his chest started to rise and fall as if he were a healthy human being. For a moment, Sabir dared to hope that the old man’s injuries were life-threatening and would keep him out of commission for a while.
That hope faded quickly, though, as Frederick gradually pushed himself up, locking his eyes onto Sabir with the cold, familiar hatred that he always seemed to reserve for him. Frederick’s lips curled into a snarl. He wasn’t saying anything, but his gaze was saying everything that needed to be said.
Sabir clenched his fists, his knuckles going white. The desire to deal with Frederick burned inside him like a fire he couldn’t control. It would be so simple—just one punch, one moment to unleash all the pent-up rage that had been roiling since the night he had first learned about his sister’s murder. But he hadn’t moved more than an inch when Warren sidled up next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Not now,” Warren muttered quietly, his grip firm but not forceful. His eyes flickered between Sabir and Frederick, sensing the tension in the air. “We’ve got bigger problems than him.”
Sabir didn’t fully let go, but he attempted to breathe and sink his anger down into his belly—at least for now. Warren was right. There would be time to deal with this later.
Stepping forward, Maize projected her voice to break the tense silence. “We can’t stay here,” she said, and her eyes were not only scanning the horizon but also pulling on the distant landscape. “That worm’s still out there, and no matter which way we look at it, we’re just sitting ducks if we stay in one spot.”
Rudiger, who had at last rose with a great deal of effort, grunted in agreement. “We need a plan,” he said through gritted teeth, his face twisted in frustration. “That thing could come back at any point.”
With Maize’s help, Elektra pushed herself back up to a sitting position. As she moved, the sand glued to her clothing and armor fell away, and desert dust mixed with the blood that had seeped from her body. She shook her head a little to clear her vision; it was now much sharper, though her eyes might take a while to adjust completely. “We need to keep moving,” she said. Her voice wasn’t yet up to full strength, but the timbre of authority returned.
“Brilliant plan and all,” Rudiger grumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow, “but we’ve got a measly amount of firepower between us, not to mention two weak porters.” He shot a glance at Sabir and Zabo, his lip curling slightly in disdain.
The jab in his stomach made Sabir feel tight in that area, but he refrained from responding. He had plenty of adversaries already, without adding Rudiger to the list. Yet, he couldn’t help but glance at Frederick again, truly expecting that the man would make a move soon, given how chaotic the situation had already gotten. But Frederick hadn’t moved; he stayed exactly where he way, holding on to his briefcase, watching everything transpire.
With a dismissive wave, Maize addressed Rudiger’s remark. “We’ll manage. We always do. Our mode of travel is foot.”
Rudiger made a derisive sound but drew a small compass from his jacket. It was dark, and even the rusty needle of the compass looked insubstantial next to the brass and glass. “We need to head northeast,” he said, glancing down at the needle as it swung towards their destination. “It’ll take more than a day’s travel to get to the dungeon, assuming nothing else tries to kill us in the meantime.”
Saliba groaned loudly. “A day of walking in this wasteland? Guess we’ll be living off monster meat if we’re lucky enough to find any.”
Sabir couldn’t help but grimace at the thought. He wasn’t sure how much monster meat he could stomach, but food was food, and the group had little choice in the matter. Survival demanded sustenance, and the wasteland was inhospitable.
Elektra wasted no more time. She started walking, her pace brisk despite her earlier injuries. “Let’s go,” she called over her shoulder, her voice brokering no argument.
Rudiger huffed, annoyed by her assumption of leadership. “I should be leading,” he muttered under his breath, but he followed her, with the rest of the group trailing behind.
While they walked, the wasteland unfurled infinitely before them—an expanse of desolation with almost nothing but distant rocky outcroppings dotting the landscape to relieve the monotony. Sabir felt a sense of dread that he couldn’t shake, that hung over him like a dark cloud. His eyes kept going to the ground, half-expecting the great worm to pop up at any moment, ready to gulp them down.
Following what seemed like hours of quiet trudging, a sound floated back to them from some indeterminate distance. At first, it was barely there—just an unformed, low, rumbling sort of noise. But as they progressed toward it, it became clearer, more pronounced.
They paused, looking at one another with a blend of confusion and unease.
“What the hell is that?” Zabo muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon.
Frederick, for the first time since regaining consciousness, spoke up. “Monsters,” he said simply, his voice cold and detached. “They’re fighting.”
The loud rumbling now had deep, guttural roars accompanying it that echoed across the wasteland. Sabir felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Whatever was making those noises was close, and they were big.
Looking at Saliba, Rudiger allowed a smirk to play across his lips. “Seems like you might get your monster meat after all,” he said with an almost humorless tone.
Saliba grunted in response, licking his lips. “Better hope they’re not still hungry by the time we get there.”
Before anyone could protest, Rudiger and Saliba pushed forward towards the chaos that was ensuing beyond them. Sabir could’ve sworn they looked excited, as if the prior encounter with that worm monster didn’t even happened.
Maize tried to call out to Rudiger, but his jutting chin quickly shut her down. “In this profession, Gaian, explore any opportunity. Else you lose potential profits, for your guild. You’ll do well to learn that.”
Reluctantly, everyone had no choice but to follow the more experienced hunters. What they were leading them to was unclear. Deep in Sabir’s heart, however, he knew they were leading them to their death.
They were heading to a war zone.