I step up and wait for the girl to tell us what she found, concern still lingering in my mind.

“Isn’t this the wide furrow we’re standing in?” I refocus my sight, and then it hits me hard. I look around, noticing that we are indeed in a wide furrow that circles around the trees, twisting through the dark forest. The soil in the furrow is packed and smooth, as if a massive snake or worm had leveled it.

“Not far from here is the desert,” the old man mentions, sounding even more worried.

“Are you thinking of the giant sandworm?” I suggest, my mind flashing back to scenes from the Dune movie. Before I can finish, a weird rattling sound starts up in the distance.

Mike steps in, unsheathing his sabre, while the caring girl tightens his headband.

But Mike loosens it right after, confusing her. He does it for a purpose—he’s switching his eyes.

His smaller, disfigured eye is now visible, and his healthy one is covered.

The girl wonders for a moment why he did this and scoffs. But I already know.

Mike is wielding a new power—the power of a hunting animal. I glance at Harald. “So, it’s that ugly eye…” Harald keeps nodding.

“Sssh,” Mike shushes me as he begins spinning, scanning the area. When he turns toward me, I feel a shiver run down my spine.

“Jeez, what an ugly motherfucker,” I whisper to myself, unaware that the old man might hear me.

*Cough* *Gulp* He chokes on his own saliva, trying to stop the laughter that’s about to burst out—probably from what I just mumbled.

At least no one else heard me. If Mike had, he’d probably come at me with a fierce, “Is my disfigurement funny to you?”

That would only make things worse, having to look into that peculiar marble eye up close.

“There are moving colors in the distance. All around us. Weird outlines of creatures,” Mike mentions.

Astrid moves closer to me and Harald. “Is his new eye detecting the enemies?” she asks.

“Boy, check us. Are we outlined too?”

Mike turns toward us, squinting with his small, wrinkled, sagging eyelid. “Yep, all of you.”

“I guess it’s the heat signatures. But no time to explain more,” he says, nodding twice while pointing toward the track behind us. We all turn to look, but there’s nothing to see.

The rattling of branches blends into the forest’s background noise, making it impossible to pinpoint where something might be approaching.

“This one’s moving faster than any of the others.”

“But what is it?” Astrid asks, growing more annoyed.

“Mmm, I don’t know. A big round something, like a ball with some moving horns?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. A sandworm? How big?” The old man fires off questions, clearly agitated.

“Nah, not that big,” Mike replies, showing with his hands. It’s about the same height as Astrid.

“I repeat: You’ve got to be kidding me!” The old man says angrily, pulling out a glock from his inventory. He cocks the gun and takes a defensive stance.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I follow suit with my hammer, and so do the girl and Mike. We stand with our backs together, forming a circle in the middle of this strange scene.

“It’s close enough,” Mike says, then rearranges his headband, uncovering his normal human eye.

Phew, at least I won’t be distracted by that unsettling eye anymore.

The sound of crackling leaves and the rolling of something draws nearer, now much clearer. But what the heck? A large brown ball, about the height of Astrid, with a rough texture, approaches us.

The old man squints and tilts his head, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. He doesn’t have a single clue. Is it a living ball?

*Fwoosh*

An arrow strikes the ball, sinking in about a fourth of its length, but the ball continues to roll, breaking the arrow against the ground. What a waste.

We split into pairs, moving away from the ball.

*Mike bursts into uncontrollable laughter.*

That finally reveals what the enemy is.

Dung Beetle, Level 39

Mike’s laughter cuts off as abruptly as it started. Dung beetles are funny, sure, but a level 39 dung beetle? That’s no laughing matter, especially with the rattling sound coming from all around us. Mike had seen more of them.

“How many outlines did you see in total?” The old man asks, his voice rising in urgency.

“I don’t know, about nine or more…”

Before he can finish his sentence, the beetle extends its glossy black chitin shell, its backside shimmering with a colorful gradient. Two pairs of white mesh wings begin to rattle, producing an obnoxious, high-pitched sound.

The beetle is fast, sharp, and precise, despite its small size, which is about the size of a large dog. As it moves from the ground position, rolling its dung ball, I realize I’ve underestimated it.

I expected something slow but powerful, based on the size and weight of the dung ball—an opponent I could smash with my hammer.

But this creature is both small and fast, making it hard for me to hit. Let’s see how this plays out.

I crouch behind the dung ball, touching it with my left hand. The surface is dry and rough, surprisingly odorless.

My surprise attack has to work!

I channel all my strength into my back and my still-scarred right hand. I crouch slightly, preparing for the strike. The weathered wooden handle of my hammer digs into my fat palm.

*Bang*

Just before I can land my blow, I hear a gunshot.

Harald is doing his part, aiming for the beetle’s head. The high-pitched rattling of its wings is cut in half as its health bar drops by at least one-fourth.

*Bonk*

I follow through with my swing, a sweeping undercut from the bottom right. My hammer connects with a fair amount of strength, and the bug is knocked back a few meters. My senses are sharper than ever.

I take advantage of the moment, regulating my Focus with precision. Without any braces, my forearms might explode under the strain.

The shiny hammerhead slams into the beetle’s thick, black chitin shell. The outer layer cracks but doesn’t shatter—it’s still holding together.

The bug is chaotic, moving in erratic patterns. Its wings are likely damaged from Harald’s shot, causing it to wobble and struggle in midair.

My hit didn’t deplete much of its health bar, but it’s something. One more blow in the same spot will be fatal, I’m sure of it!

“I’ll handle this!” I shout confidently to the rest of the crew.

Two more bugs have already closed in, and Mike and Astrid are switching their focus to new targets. Harald is no longer wasting bullets on my beetle. I repeat my swift attack, striking the same spot.

My hammerhead punctures the bottom of the beetle, and a stream of white, glue-like substance starts flowing out.

The stench hits my nose hard as the beetle screeches and writhes. Its health bar disappears in a blink—I know the kill is mine.

No time to inspect the carcass. More bugs are closing in, and we’re slowly backing toward the ravine behind us.

I glance over at Mike and Astrid, who seem to be struggling. Fast arrows aren’t strong enough to puncture the beetle’s shell, and its chaotic movements make it nearly impossible to hit its wings. Astrid is almost out of arrows and begins running toward the ravine and the rocky cliffside.

Mike manages to stab his beetle in the wing, grounding it. He’s fearless, but when his Sharpen skill goes on cooldown, the beetle strikes back, scratching his body with its sharp legs and mandibles. Harald steps in to protect them both.

He tries to shoot the beetle in the head, but its frantic movements cause him to miss. Another shot lands in the wing cavity, but it’s still not enough to bring it down.

“The opening! Get inside!” Astrid yells, standing near a crack in the rocky ravine wall.

“Go! I’ll finish this!” I shout as I see the bullet-damaged wing.

“Come on! Just land already!” I taunt the beetle, pumping up my arms as I stand in front of the crack in the wall.

*Thud*

The beetle finally decides to land, sprinting toward me.

I swing my hammer down from above, aiming for its head. Yes! A direct hit! I think triumphantly.

But my smile fades fast as my hammer slides off, barely leaving a scratch on its armored head.

Six more beetles are rattling in the distance, flying straight for us.

“Come on, damn it!” the old man shouts, gesturing for me to hurry inside the ravine.

*Thud* *Thud* *Thud*