It was bright.

The sky above the capital was clear. One could see the night sky filled with clusters of stars playfully twinkling. Of course, the full moon was at the center of the sea of stars illuminating its mystical light across the cold desert.

Ainig stood at his post and stared far into the night desert. His friends occasionally accompanied him throughout the day to get him settled at his post, but eventually had to leave.

He now stood alone, nervously watching the shores.

Ships went and go. Thanks to Tama giving him signs to watch for, he was able to identify friendlies coming to dock at the harbor.

“Scuse me, Scalemen. Are you lost?”

“N-no. I was told to wait here…”

“Is that so? Waiting for a friend? While I’m here, could I interest you in some goods I have for sale? You see, I have a wide selection of trinkets I think will look absolutely fantastic on your shell.”

“Erm… I don’t have any money…”

“How about a trade? Let’s see…”

The Pamalyrian eyes gave the Tortoise Folk a quick scan. He spotted an expensive piece of jewelry hanging around Ainig’s neck. However much the merchant wanted it, he couldn’t help but feel a presence looming over him, watching for his greedy hands drawn to the pendant.

If he were to describe it, something large and invisible waiting to pounce on him the moment he touched necklace.

“I-I have nothing I can trade. Sorry…”

“Tch. You could’ve said so from the beginning! What a waste of time.”

The merchant shot a cold stare at Ainig before packing up. The scene attracted a bit of attention from workers curious about the interaction. They were curious why a lone Tortoise Folk stood at the edge of the port, looking at the cold sandy desert absentmindedly.

Was he taken in awe of the scenery? It must be a new experience for someone who was born from Stusis’ mountains.

Moments later, his shadow stretched forward. It casted over the docks and the sand. Its form contorted as large majestic wings sprouted from both sides. The silhouette’s neck split, the number of heads multiplied.

Then a voice pierced into Ainig’s mind.

“My Herald, you seem to be lost in thought. That’s no good. What if the enemy decides to attack now?”

“I’m worried about Krullu.”

“Oh, that lil’ lizard? You have no need to mind that thing. You best cast that worry aside if you are to live up to the Oracle’s expectations.” One of the Pale Dragon’s heads looped around Ainig as if it was a snake. “Once you’ve obtained a crest, your story will finally begin.”

“I can’t help it. Krullu’s my best friend.” Ainig whimpered. “Umm… Ishverial, what is this story you’re talking about?”

“Do forgive my tardiness. I’m merely quaking with joy the moment you would become one of the great heroes to save the world from the Towers. I dare say, I have never been this impatient of all my existence.”

“Does that mean you can’t wait for me to become a hero?”

“Not exactly the correct term, but indeed! And once my champion has ascended, I shall watch ‘Crimson’ writhe in jealousy. Speaking of my kin, I can no longer feel the energy Crimson in Stusis’s direction.”

“Could it be we’re too far from Stusis?”

“Perhaps.” The Pale Dragon narrowed its eyes. “But unlikely. Something’s gone awry. Crimson’s magic was strong but moments ago. Either way, my business is not with my kin-.”

All five of the Pale Dragon heads snapped towards the direction of Stusis. Its fins perked up, its wings spread apart as if it was preparing itself for combat.

“Ishverial?”

“Apologies, there’s nothing to fret about. However…”

The Pale Dragon couldn’t shake the uneasiness. Had the Crimson Dragon misused the power of daylight left behind by the Pale Dragon? Perhaps his kin was slain. Maybe the Pale Dragon’s absence resulted in an unknown disconnection of his spirit from the mountains?

“Aren’t you worried?” Ainig asked.

“Though the four Dragons of Stusis are born from the Dragon God’s soul spirit, I possess no kinship with the others. Additionally, I severed myself from the pact. I have no further relations with Crimson’s doing.”

“If you’re both born from the Dragon God, doesn’t that make you siblings? Shouldn’t you be worried?”

“Not even the slightest, Herald. Although, I must confess, I am curious of this phenomenon, but we are in no position to return.”

“T-then I’ll talk to the Oracle! Maybe he can do something or find some answers?”

“Now, now. The chapters of Stusis have closed. It would be best for the Holy one to continue his duty. I however, express my gratitude for your concern, Herald. You need not worry but focus on your growth.”

“No problem!” Ainig flashed a smile.

The Pale Dragon couldn’t help but cackle softly at the child like behavior of his purest champion. One of its claws reached forward, gently probed Ainig’s nose.

“Boop.”

“W-what was that for?!”

“Nothing. I merely had the urge to imitate a gesture Scalemen do to their hatchlings.” The Pale Dragon smiled. “It has provided me with an amusing expression.”

“You just wanted to do that, didn’t you?”

There was no response.

“Ishverial…? Hello?”

The next time Ainig blinked, the silhouette of the Pale Dragon was nowhere to be seen. He noticed the time he was able to speak with the Pale Dragon had significantly been reduced since their last conversation.

But there was no point to mull over it now. A commotion broke out, gathering curious bystanders as they saw a patch of fiery amidst the moonlit desert. More continued to emerge at different spots of the horizon, lifting a heavy curtain if smoke into the night sky.

A fleet suddenly crashed out of the smog and charged towards the harbor.

The bell by the nearby watchtower rang.

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His eyes snapped wide open by the noise.

His only hand carefully lifted his hood above his eyes, just enough vision to take a glance of the situation at hand. Once Pamalyrians entered a frenzy state of panic, he pocketed a cup of spare change pitied by generous passerby and moved. He slipped through an alley and used the opportunity to blend in with the crowd.

From what he heard; the harbor was under attack. The enemies had yet to be identified, but this was his best opportunity to leave before anyone noticed.

He followed the fleeing crowd and did his best to move towards the harbor.

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“Are pirates attacking?”

“Who cares! Run! I heard some crazy pirates are attacking and they’ve taken out the patrolling navy!”

He was too slow. Traffic was becoming impossible to move through. A surge of people flooded the width of the road, sweeping him in the opposite direction. It was risky to move across the rooftops, but he must secure a boat before the attackers land.

He made sure his belongings were properly secured on his back before he isolated himself from the crowd. In one swift and agile motion, he climbed up onto the buildings.

Unfortunately, he stumbled across a group of guards stationed up there.

“One armed! It’s the fugitive!”

“I ain’t got time for this!”

At times like this, Rogus wished he had [Rolling Crown] with him. He slashed using his claw and swatted the group of mercenaries down. He snatched a dropped blade and quickly hopped over the roofs, speeding in the direction of the harbor.

While closing to his destination, he saw a figure basking in daylight shielding the docks. Hardened light sheltered the port from a barrage of projectiles and magic from attacking ships.

“That’s the Tortoise. Good.”

Now it was likely an abandoned ship would survive the onslaught. He ran with full confidence until he saw a glint out of the darkness.

Rogus bent his body back, dodging a projectile slicked with a substance.

“Mad Dog Rogus… You dammed, one arm dog. I knew you’d come out of hiding once everyone’s panicking.”

“Hey there. You weren’t the only one who knew.”

Dozens of armed individuals scattered throughout the roofs unconcealed themselves. Some were Greypelt’s mercenaries while others wore a uniform identifying themselves as Dockmaster Belka’s hired arms.

“So, we agreed on sixty thirty split, right?”

“Sixty for us and thirty for you.”

“No way. We were the one to track him down.”

“Then let’s see who kills him first.”

The assailants lunged forward. Rogus counted six attackers flanking him while magic and arrows came at him in front.

Rogus dipped away from the hail of projectiles. His blade ripped a fighter’s chest who was too slow to parry his counterattack.

One of the ambushers hiding behind the mutilated body drew a crossbow point blank and loosened a bolt.

“Shit!”

Rogus was forced to jump in the air to avoid the poison coated projectile.

“Fool, you’re wide open!” A Pamalyrian wielding a hammer charged towards Rogus’ landing spot.

Rogus was able to pull up a sword he stole to mitigate the power behind the attack, but it did not stop the heavy blow from batting him away. With a missing arm, he was unable to bring himself to land upright. He tumbled over ceramic shingles.

Thankfully he caught himself in between two chimneys allowing him to climb back up with relative ease.

One mercenary took upon himself to take Rogus’ life right then and there. The mercenary was quick and nimble. He slipped past a thrust and plunged a dagger into Rogus’ shoulder. The mercenary made a smirk as he was about to make a mockery of Rogus.

“ARGH! Fuck!”

“End of the line, sucker-!”

His insults were swiftly cut down by ambushers leaping out of nowhere. The newcomers wore darkened robes and were armed with concealable weapons. They caught Rogus’s attackers by surprise, flying through the roofs and killed the mercenaries.

Rogus found their scent was familiar. Their charred earthy odor identified them as Scalemen.

There was no need to fight. While both groups clashed with each other, he dropped down and navigated through the maze like slums. Suddenly, someone rushed towards him from the opposite end of the corridor.

“Did you really think you can get away?”

A sword thrusted straight at his chest. Rogus swapped his blade for his claws as he twisted away and tore his attacker’s chest. He kicked down the enemy and left him to bleed as he continued on.

“There you are!”

Another jumped down but one Scalemen cut down the Pamalyrian. Two more Scalemen leaped down and surrounded Rogus.

“Dammit.”

Rogus grabbed the handle of weapon and nervously kept his foes within sight. He was prepared to slash down anyone approaching within five meters of him.

Without word, the Scalemen tossed a letter into Rogus’ hands. Since they don’t speak each other’s language, it was best to abide to his savior’s actions and read through the paper.

Rogus shot the messenger a nasty side eye as he unrolled the letter. His eyes widened after quickly skimming through its contents. Frustration built into his heart. If he had his other hand, he would’ve shredded the parchment out of anger.

It read ‘Douglas is attacking the city. Come to the golden temple quickly.’ as he saw a Scalemen pointing towards the harbor then to the golden temple.

“What da hell is dis?! I can’t trust this. I need ta confirm it with my own eyes.”

Rogus eyed through the telescope he was handed and was in disbelief. The Silver Cry said to be lost was leading a fleet of thirty strong ships to bombard Navargzan. It’s silver glory basking under the moonlit desert lead the Invincible and Pursuer.

Another quake occurred. A plume of smoke rose. It did not come from the harbor as it was sturdily defended by Ainig. The shockwave reverberated from the mercenary guild’s direction. The culprit making those tremors was a massive beast.

Its elongated stemmed legs stabbed the ground as it trod forward. It carried a large solid shell with knobs protruding its spiraling exterior. Whereas a Sand Wyrm was a lobster like monster was a ginormous hermit crab dragging its shell wherever it crawled.

Finding the structures in its path a nuisance, it raised one of its claws and leveled the area in front. It rivaled the size of Pamalyra’s world tree and making its way towards it. A beast of that size would have surely been spotted a mile away and yet, no preparations were made to defend against it.

“My brother once said dey can hide themselves by summoning a sandstorm around dem.” Rogus muttered. “But this one looks weird for a Guardian. How did one escape the barriers?”

Every thought was a theory, but it did not change the reality of a giant beast of the desert attacking Navargzan.

A Giant in a suit of armor suddenly grew to match the size of the Guardian. The Rozzalian stomped forward and landed a heavy punch enough to crack its carapace on one of its claws.

The Guardian was about to retaliate when a shooting star pierced through one of its eyes. It recoiled from the pain and screeched.

“Seems da Oracle has everything on his rein.” Rogus breathed a sigh of relief. He jabbed his claw to the Scalemen then pointed to the letter held in his mouth. “Alright, ya lizards. Bring me ta de Oracle.”

----------------------------------------

The building above them shook.

Vol dodged the leaking sand from the floor above and immediately stood up. It was quite fortunate the foundation of the basement was able to hold up the frequent tremors. He plucked a pick hidden in his boot and walked up to the lock on his cell. With a quick picking, he opened the gate in less than a second.

He moved up to another cell and kicked it with his foot.

“Get up.”

“Holy Vol…?” Fatilda sat up from her slumber. “Is this what they call a night visit? Have you finally decided for us to take the next step in our relationship?”

“Shut up. You got yourself nabbed to begin with.” Vol then kicked Krullu’s cell. “You, wake up.”

Krullu rolled off his bed due to Vol’s rattling. “Is it, is it time for food?”

“There seems to be trouble outside. We can use this chance to go back to the Scalemen district.”

“We can leave-?”

Krullu’s celebration was interrupted when the dungeon shook again.

Vol held out his hand to silence the two concerned individuals as he made his way towards the door. He pressed his ear up against it and listened to muffled shouts and screams outside the room. He strained his hearing for information about the source of the quake.

Unfortunately, he could not gather as much information as he hoped. Bold footsteps sounded at the other side of the door. Before it swung opened, Vol quickly hid himself in a corner.

A group of mercenaries rushed into the basement.

“Get up! We’re moving you three-.”

Two of the four mercenaries immediately collapsed upon entering. The door behind them closed as if a trickster ghost haunting the underground dwellings decided to play a prank on them.

Before the other two mercenaries could react, Vol snatched both their heads and smashed them together. He noticed one of them resisted the shock and quickly tripped the mercenary, poking his pick against his throat.

“Answer me and I’ll spare you. What’s happening out there?”

“There’s a Guardian attacking Navargzan!”

“Guardian?! How did one escape the Great Sandstorm?” Fatilda asked.

“I’d like to know too.”

Vol’s hand blurred and his jailor slumped. He gently set the unconscious mercenary down and put a hand on the floor. He took a deep breath, spread his fingers over the cobblestone tile and felt for disturbances.

Thankfully, as a Tracker back at the Secluded Village, Vol was blessed with incredible sense of detection. Using his tremor sense, Vol determined they were safe so long they moved now. The Guardian was approaching the mercenary guild at a rapid pace.

Then, the pattern of the quaking changed. The ground shook again, but the power of the tremors remained vaguely the same. Moreover, Vol detected more of them.

It’s as if another Guardian appeared and the two clashed.

“We should get out of here using this chance!” Krullu suggested. “We can’t do anything about a giant monster attacking the city!”

“Not with the three of us.” Fatilda mumbled. “However, the loss of the Mercenary Guild would cause greater damage in the long run. I’m in no position to give any commands to the mercenaries, therefore I believe our best course of action is to convince Greypelt to rally up arms to defend the city.”

“Wow, I never took you to be the thoughtful type.” Vol commented.

“I’m plenty thoughtful to you, darling.”

“Yuck. Stop calling me that.”

“Then, shall we? Let us head towards the armory first to retrieve your weapons.”

As much as Vol wanted to leave Fatilda in her cell, he ultimately decided to free her as she knew the layout of the Mercenary Guild.

“Are you two going? I-I think it’s best if I stay here. Yeah, I think I’ll stay here! It’s safer anyways.”

Krullu on the other hand could be a nuisance. His stubby body could prove difficult for sneaking around. If it were any other prisoner, Vol would leave them here and pick them up at a later time. However, Vol could not risk allowing the chance of the mercenaries forcing Krullu to surrender the fire medicine recipe should they come look for him later.

“Look dude. You’re coming with us whether you like it or not. If Pamalyra gets their hands on fire medicine without any protective measures, it’d destroy the country.”

“I am actually a very special kind of Lizardman! Look!”

Starting from the Chameleon’s head, Krullu’s reptilian hide turned grey. The transformation wasn’t instantaneous, but he was eventually able to match his color to the prison walls.

However…

“That’s an interesting ability per say, but we can very much see you. For one, your clothes.” Fatilda pointed out.

One of Krullu’s bulbous eyes snapped downwards, realizing his camouflage was thwarted by his outfit. His body may now resemble the wall, but not his belongings. Even if he decided to remove his clothing, he would still stick out like a sore thumb.

Krullu could only imitate the background but could not meld into it. If a Mercenary strolled into the dungeon, they’d immediately notice his silhouette. The animal characteristics of Pamalyra also made the jailors perceptive, especially Lycanthropes.

“You’ll be sniffed out in less than a second. We don’t have anymore time to loiter here.” Vol reached into the cell and dragged Krullu out.

“Wouldn’t I be in your way?”

“Would you rather stay here and wait for the mercenaries wake up?”

“No… I don’t.”

“Let’s move.”