A long distance away, deep in the desolate desert, standing next to an unending abyss, was a stone altar. The sun barely shone on this forsaken place, and the ground was devoid of all colours; only grey remained.
The altar was grand and majestic, yet awe was replaced by isolation and loneliness. There were no signs of life except for the three beings standing atop the structure. They wore garbs made of animal fur and bones yet had almost been entirely eroded by the passage of time.
These individuals were much too skinny, practically resembling living skeletons. It was a wonder they still lived, as all but the barest traces of vitality had been severed away, leaving only the dried husk of their flesh behind. But, despite it all, the flame of their duty still remained, and it burned bright in their chests as well as their eyes.
“Were we not too hasty?” one man asked.
His voice was hoarse, barely audible, as his jaw hardly moved. It was almost drowned out by the cracking sounds of his aging bones as they produced the slightest motions. The other two's gaze landed on him, their breath nearly nonexistent, resembling two corpses on the verge of collapse.
Still, they stood seated on top of this desolate structure, their backs straighter than their aging body should be able to accomplish, awaiting the opportune time to fulfill their duties.
"What else can we do?" another asked, offering the slightest of sigh. "Every year, our population dwindles, unable to bear the barrenness of this land. Should we wait until our strength fades away into obscurity to take action? Besides, our God cannot wait any longer. Remember, we would have long returned to dust if not for its grace. After all, the world itself rejects us... What else can we do?”
The other two men looked at him, the same thoughts filling their hearts. They were at an impasse; death surrounded them on all sides. Resolves sprouted in their eyes as they nodded to each other.
They sat in a circle and began mumbling words foreign to all—not even the high priest was privy to this language, as it was forbidden. They were its last inheritors, and it would fade away as they breathed their last.
The words themselves hung onto the air, forming ephemeral runes that sparked to life before them. They slowly rotated around them as they formed obscure sentences, always shifting as they swam through space itself.
The three dried-up living corpses closed their eyes, slipping into a trance they might never recover from. This may be the last time they would ever be conscious of their own thoughts, forever becoming instruments of their divine.
The dark grey markings on their shrivelled skin sprung to life, emitting a dull glow that drove away the darkness. The scene was silent, except for the rustling sound of sand slowly shifting as it fell beyond the world’s edge toward the unending abyss, all of it without end, forever eroding at this plane of existence. Beyond was merely an ethereal ocean of grey, devoid of all light.
The men sang in soundless voices as the meaning alone came into existence. They shattered reality—or what remained of it. This place was too far removed from the truth of existence. Laws bent and weaved into each other, slowly losing their meaning.
Space seemed to be all that remained, as not even time flowed correctly, leaving this small pocket of reality in near stasis but also free-flowing through history, forever unable to be reached again. Only through this incomprehensible chanting could the outside world be accessed—only through communion with their one true God.
They lived on an island of sand, forever drifting in an ocean of grey, unable to see the shore again. And yet, the men felt no despair at their situation, for they had once made a choice—a choice to become the conduit for their God.
That choice was made so long ago that none of the three remembered what it was or even the name they once called themselves. Now, they were merely the oracle, the apostles of the end. They lived as corpses, awaiting their God's advent so that they could finally fade away into the peace of oblivion. Until then, they would remain the faithful arbiters of its will.
******
Xu Weizhe held his sword tight as he watched the outsiders rush toward the city wall. He saw the gigantic sandworms taking the lead, gliding along the sand with riders on their backs. They used the hooks buried into the creatures’ flesh to direct them, inflicting pain so that they might know who their masters were.
The worms rushed with uncanny speed, as if this desert were a mere ocean, and they were marine creatures. Waves of sand crashed into each other as they dug through the dunes, creating countless avalanches that deformed this malleable terrain.
Their momentum seemed tremendous—so much so that the inexperienced novice standing next to Xu Weizhe became unable to mask their fears and restlessness. Their hands began shaking, and even some couldn't keep their eyes on the tide seeking to crash into them.
Only the most experienced looked at the incoming flood with a slight sneer on their faces but also glee in their eyes. Some even laughed at their opponent as if they were looking at fools, which couldn't help but make Yao Ruolan frown.
She wished to ask her master the reason for their callousness, only to be stopped by the grim expression he showed. Unlike the rest of the older cultivators on the wall, Xu Weizhe couldn't help but feel something was wrong. He couldn't explain it.
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In fact, he knew well why the other sects were looking forward to it. In the long history of their conflict, the times the outsiders were able to breach the city's barrier could be counted on one hand, and yet the city still stood to this day. There was no reason to think this battle would be otherwise.
Suddenly, the dunes rose akin to waves on an ocean, revealing the immensity of its essence—unending and overflowing. The sand rose to an unspeakable height, casting a shadow onto the city, plunging it into obscurity, and blotting out the sun.
The laughter and derision suddenly stopped. Only the rustling sand remained, grinding against each other as it threatened to shatter reality itself. Fear sprouted into the hearts of all those who gazed upon the magnificence of this phenomenon, unable to believe their eyes yet unable to reject reality.
The worms surfed on the tide, rising to the sky alongside it. They dug within its flow, feeling its embrace as they rushed forward while the rest of the army waited for the inevitable.
The wave sought to reach its apex. All under it were but ants, stunned in awe but also terror of its destructive nature. Few were those who could remain hopeful watching this grim spectacle.
Then, the wave broke, burying the city beneath, its massive weight crashing into it, wreaking havoc if not for the thin barrier protecting the peace within. It flickered, resisting the granular mass, even pushing it back somehow. Still, the strain was plain for all to see. Even the ground quaked as the flood receded back to the desert, its army of worms alongside it.
Silence reigned.
Only the flicker of the barrier could be heard as it pushed back the tide. Only for the tension to mount. None of the cheerfulness they once displayed remained; only the dreadfulness of their foes was etched onto their heart.
“Attack!” a cry was heard.
Some chose to lash out prematurely, if only out of desperation. Unlike the invaders, who waited for the second wave calmly, sitting on their mounts or on foot, safely out of reach, the cultivators drew their weapons.
Some wielded their artifacts, spewing waves of elemental qi in the distance, yet could never reach them. Colourful lights flashed, creating paintings in the sky, yet it all amounted to nothing. Some even drew more conventional weapons, either bows or flying swords, but even those proved insufficient. They were all swallowed by the rising sand tide, ready for a second assault.
Their expressions became grim; they were helpless beneath nature's might. While some knew what had to be done, they simply couldn't bring themselves to do it. Not even Xu Weizhe—even after the speech he had made—found himself that courageous. After all, how could one leave the safety of this city wall, only to charge head-on onto the incoming wave, only to be buried within the sand, only to perish without a grave?
"Don't lose hope!" someone shouted, breaking their hopelessness. "No matter how often they try, the barrier will never break. The most they can do is allow a few of their men to slip through it as they collide. Don't forget the barrier has stood against their assault for eons, never breaking. It is tightly tethered to the Dragon Vein flowing beneath the city. Its source is the world itself! There's no way they can sustain this tide longer than the Dragon Vein!"
Hope was rekindled, if only barely. Xu Weizhe looked toward the man who spoke, only to see an aged individual, his long white beard flowing in the wind, giving him the countenance of a sage. Some even cheered him on, if only to cheer for themselves by proxy. While this prevented morale from breaking, morale alone wasn't enough to win a war.
“Does that man speak the truth?” Yao Ruolan asked, feeling the sword in her hand shake as she watched the deluge rise for a second strike. She couldn’t help but have doubts in her heart—who wouldn’t?
“In theory,” Xu Weizhe replied, his expression somewhat grim. “However, there’s no telling how they achieved this. Besides, those aren’t easy opponents, or we would have long wiped them out. There’s no way they think they can breach this city through brute force alone, even if they rely on the desert itself.”
Yao Ruolan's expression grew grimmer as she watched another wave rise above the sky. She only hoped the barrier could outlast their opponent, winning this war of attrition. And yet, she couldn't help but think that remaining passive was to their detriment. She also felt the best way to resolve this predicament was to take the fight to them.
However, she also knew this was a death sentence. She knew this hastily assembled band of rabble could never hope to match against their opponents who had grown up in the harshness of the deep desert. She could see it in their eyes. Unlike themselves, the outsiders oozed determination but also a faith in something greater than they were.
Picking up on her doubts, Xu Weizhe couldn’t help but sigh.
"There is nothing scarier than a man with conviction—nothing more dangerous than a people with faith as their anchor. There is no reasoning, only conflict. In this sense, we aren't much different from them. We also believe in the Heavenly Dao, but our faith is based on retribution. If not for heavenly might, would we even care?"
Yao Ruolan remained silent. There was too much she didn’t know to comment on this. She only turned away from the battlefield, looking back to the city they protected, thinking of the one man who was her world. She didn’t really care about the world, and while she believed in justice, she wouldn’t wage her life on it.
The only things worthy of her devotion were her own feelings, fleeting as they may be. Maybe she wouldn't always feel that way. Perhaps she would come to regret it someday. However, fearing the future would achieve nothing. She much preferred to live in the present, fighting for what mattered in the moment.
She steeled herself and looked forward. Maybe her sacrifice would mean nothing in the grand scheme of things, but at least she would live without regrets.
The wave crashed again onto the dome of light, but this time creating tiny holes, just enough to allow passage before swiftly closing back. Sand fell through those openings, bringing with them their most hated enemies.
The worms fell from the sky in droves, their mass alone able to substantially damage the city, to say nothing of their riders. Their maws opened, releasing countless other creatures from their depths, flooding the walls but also the city in their numbers. If not for the evacuation notice, the populace would have already been drowned in a sea of death.
Yao Ruolan swung her sword with abandon, slaying creature after creature, yet they flooded without end. The walls became filled with death as they came from all sides, even rushing up against the vertical surface.
Blood was smeared on her face as her sword cut through all that opposed her, but she barely made a dent in their numbers. Even her fellow disciples were deep in the midst of battle, some even sustaining some injuries.
However, the number of worms was limited, and soon, the more senior individual present had dispatched them all, her master having slain more than a dozen of them. Still, this was only the beginning as the wave of sand receded back, awaiting a third impact.
She breathed hard, feeling the fatigue envelope her despite the fight being over quickly. She could feel her muscles tense, draining away at her stamina as the threat of death loomed over them. She couldn't sustain the effort forever. Even her comrades didn't fare much better. She looked back, only to see the city devastated, corpses littered everywhere.
“Go, if you must,” Xu Weizhe said to her. “If you wish to be at his side, then go. I won’t deny you the chance to make the most of it.”
There was a longing in his voice, which felt much too real to her. She had an inkling of who he was talking about. Even the surrounding disciples were well aware as this was an open secret.
"Master, I won't leave you," she replied, her gaze firm again as her breathing became stable. "While I would like nothing more, I cannot be so selfish. I owe the sect too much. Either we live united, or we all perish as one. I wouldn't have it any other way."