The caravan stopped by and restocked supplies at Evont Pass—a narrow strip of road carved towards the Plateau in the desert of Zaras’th. Flanked by jagged cliffs, the pass was heavily guarded by knights and soldiers. Two towers looked over the dusty road.

Stark had been treated with crude first-aid for his bruises, a luxury he didn’t expect but could understand. Too many slaves had succumbed to the journey’s hardships, and losing more could land the soldiers and Rakel in trouble.

That was yesterday.

Now they were far from the path in the never ending great desert. Dunes of sands stretched across the horizon.

With Each step, He winced.

The hot air stung his bruised skin.

There was a dusty wind occasionally.

Ahead, something caught his eye—a shimmering white structure that seemed to float in the heat.

Narrowing his eyes, he muttered under his breath, "What’s that?”

As they drew closer, the vision sharpened. A large white tent rose above the sands, surrounded by a cluster of smaller, ones. Ish’raks lounged in the sun, while scarfed men busily loaded goods.

Armed men patrolled the perimeter, their gazes sharp and fixed on the approaching caravan.

The caravan shifted course, steering away from the camp. Stark glanced back at the soldiers near the tents. Their armor marked with an emblem of a snarling wolf.

"Who are they?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the clinking of chains.

A sudden yank pulled him forward, and the camp disappeared into the swirling dust.

So many questions arose in his mind regarding the camp.

Why were they in that location, and what were the goods? Why did the soldiers ignore them completely

Stark's mind raced, the questions filled his mind as if to drown out the ache of his suffering.

What is true freedom? He wondered.

From the past filled with abuse and slavery, to his present as a teen still bound by chains, Stark had never dared to dream of freedom. Survival was all he had ever known.

Stark trudged forward. He was at the end of the line. The man ahead of him muttered ceaselessly under his breath,

“Devil… Devil…” the man whispered, his words rising and falling like a chant.

Stark guessed the man had gone mad after learning about their destination. The muttering got on his nerves, but he forced himself to block it out. He couldn’t waste energy on someone else’s despair—his own thoughts were heavy enough.

Lost in his mind, Stark clung to the story of Hero Dalius, the legendary warrior who had vanquished the Demon King. The tale fascinated him. If I became strong… strong like Dalius… could I escape this wretched life?

The desert stretched endlessly around him. For most of his life, Stark had toiled in this arid wasteland, the sand and sun. He was sick of it—sick of the endless dunes and the scorching heat.

Yet, amidst his misery, a fragment of a memory surfaced. He remembered a grass field, its blades swaying gently in the breeze. In the center stood a tiny house, warm and inviting. The image was soothing, but beyond it, everything was hazy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember more.

The next thing he vividly recalled was waking up on a ship bound for Kastar, his wrists bound in chains. The soft green of the grass field had vanished, replaced by the creak of wooden planks and the salty sting of ocean air.

Stark’s gaze drifted to the Squire leading the caravan. A strange unease settled over him, prickling at the edges of his senses. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the horizon. For a moment, he swore the sand moved—rippling like a living thing.

He blinked a couple of times and looked again.

What was that? He thought.

He glanced at the Squire but no one seemed to notice

Was it just me? Maybe it’s the heat.

Stark looked ahead, dismissing the thoughts. According to the conversation he heard from the soldiers yesterday. It would take the caravan 3 days to reach the Canyon of Dzeth—the location of his next job.

There was a slight problem, to reach the Canyon, they had to cross the Fool’s sand.

He had no information about the fool’s sand—in fact he never heard of that place in his life. From the looks on the soldier’s face, stark didn’t expect it to be cozy. It would be like the Evont cluster if not worse.

Suddenly, the caravan came to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Stark glanced around, his brow furrowed. The dunes stretched endlessly. Only the wind stirred, swirling dust into their faces.

A sharp scream shattered the uneasy calm.

“ARGHHHHHH!”

The sound tore through the air, followed by a sickening splatter.

Ahead, the slaves began to panic. Stark’s gaze snapped forward. Something was falling from above. Instinctively, he stretched out his hand, letting the droplets hit his palm.

It was warm. Sticky.

Blood.

Chaos erupted.

Slaves screamed, pulling at their bindings as the dust began to settle. Stark’s chest tightened. His vision cleared just enough to make out the scene ahead—and his blood ran cold.

They were surrounded by bone-eaters.

“DEVIL... DEVIL... IT’S THE DEVIL’S DOING!” screamed the man in front. He clawed at his shaved head, leaving bloody streaks as his nails dug into his scalp.

Blood trickled down his face, but his wild eyes seemed oblivious to the pain.

Stark ignored him, his thoughts fixed on survival. His gaze turned to Squire Rakel, perched atop his Ish’rak.

Rakel stood for a moment, his back to the caravan. Then, with a blur of movement too fast to follow, he vanished.

Three Bone-eaters fell. Their heads hit the ground with dull thuds, staining the sand crimson.

"REGROUP! SHIELDS UP!” Rakel’s voice thundered above the clamor, commanding immediate attention.

The soldiers shook off their panic. They scrambled into a tight formation, shields locking together as they braced for the next assault.

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Stark stood frozen in plain sight. The Bone-eaters' screeches pierced the air, sending shivers down his spine. He tugged futilely at the chains binding him. There was nowhere to run, no shelter to hide behind—only the endless sands.

He had seen the creatures’ brutality before. Their projectiles ripped through flesh with ease, leaving only mangled bodies in their wake.

Fortunately, their attention was fixed on the soldiers and the squire up ahead. Clashes erupted.

“Hold the line! Take them out!” Rakel ordered as he killed another bone-eater.

The soldiers struggled to obey, their formation breaking as swirling winds churned up dust. The haze provided perfect cover for the Bone-eaters, who emerged briefly to hurl rocks before disappearing again.

One projectile struck a slave nearby, tearing through his chest. Blood sprayed across the sand, and the man collapsed without a sound.

Stark winced, his breath catching in his throat.

Panic rippled through the line of slaves. Those at the front screamed and pulled against their chains, desperate to escape, but the metal bonds held fast. The sound of rattling metal mixed with cries of terror as the Bone-eaters killed.

he knew there was no escape—only survival, if luck would grant him that mercy.

Soldiers fell one after another. Bone-eater’s projectiles tore through the shield wall, striking men with devastating force. A soldier near Stark collapsed, his chest caved in, blood pooling in the sand as his lifeless body slumped. Another's head burst with a sickening crack, spraying the ground with crimson.

Rakel fought, slashing down bone-eaters on his side. But these creatures used the sands as cover, vanishing after each attack, forcing him to face them one by one.

Stark’s chest heaved as his gaze darted from one horror to another. The soldiers were being pushed back, their formations crumbling. His heart pounded as though it might burst. His thoughts spiraled.

What do I do?………What..Why….

I don’t want to die!

Then, the worst happened. A massive boulder ripped through the haze, crashing into the shield wall. It hit with the force of a god’s hammer, splitting the line apart. Soldiers were flung like rag dolls, their bodies crushed, blood staining the sands.

Stark stumbled forward as the chain yanked him. He fell hard, the taste of iron filling his mouth as he hit the ground. Around him, the front line of slaves was obliterated, their crushed remains scattered in the sands.

The chain snapped, leaving only Stark and the crazed, muttering man alone.

"It’s an Elder!” Rakel’s voice rang out. “Regroup. I’ll handle it.”

He moved in a blur. The Elder Bone-eater vanished into the haze just as quickly, a wide, mocking grin plastered across its face.

“Fuck!” Rakel snarled. “You fucking ape!” He spat the words like venom, his eyes scanning the swirling dust.

“Duck!” he barked.

Stark dropped low, pressing himself against the sands. The crazed man was already on the ground beside him and ripping his scalp in fear.

Rakel took a low stance, his muscles coiling to strike. “Second Step,” he murmured.

A shock wave tore through the desert as the sand clouds split into a perfect circle, revealing the scattered Bone-eaters.

“Third Step.”

In a flash, Rakel paced ahead, his blade moved swiftly as he cut down every Bone-eater in his path. Blood sprayed in arcs, staining the sands red.

But then, his momentum faltered.

A massive figure stepped into his path, towering over the battlefield. Rakel’s blade met its mark, only to stop cold against a thick arm. The Elder Bone-eater grinned. With a screech, it grabbed Rakel’s arm and hurled him through the air.

Rakel crashed into the sand dune hundreds of feet away.

The creature turned, its massive jaws opening to reveal dagger-like canines. This was no fledgling—it was a true Elder Bone-eater.

The soldiers were gasping for air, their armor stained with blood.

Only a handful remained, forming a feeble line at the front.

Desperately, they fought to hold back the Bone-eaters, but the creatures tore through the defenders.

The front line was gone.

Stark stumbled backward, dragging the muttering man along with him. He was bound to the crazy man.

“Devil… Devil…” the man chanted, his bloodied fingers clawing at his scalp.

“Shut up, you bastard!” Stark spat.

Fuck! Fuck! I have to get out of here.

Adrenaline surged through his veins as he scanned the battlefield.

The Bone-eaters, distracted by the slaughter ahead, seemed oblivious to him—for now. Stark’s heart pounded.

Slowly….Slow.. He inched back away.

But his luck didn’t last.

One by one, the creatures turned. Their mocking grins stretched wide as their eye locked onto him.

Stark froze, his breath caught in his throat. Time seemed to slow as he watched their hands grasping rocks.

The crazy man continued his chant, oblivious to the danger.

“No! No! I don’t want to die! Someone… anyone…” Stark’s voice cracked as panic consumed him.

Just as the Bone-eaters raised their elongated arms to throw, a glimmer of steel flashed in the air. Their heads rolled cleanly to the ground.

“Fucking apes,” Rakel muttered, his face caked in blood, a gash on his forehead. He turned his focus to the Elder Bone-eater, standing tall and unyielding.

Without hesitation, Rakel charged.

CLANG!

The metallic ring of his blade striking the Elder’s arm echoed through the chaos. The camouflage and distance advantage were gone, but it adapted quickly, its elongated arms flexing like whips to block Rakel’s strikes.

Stark stumbled backward, dragging the murmuring man with him. His gaze remained fixed on the fight. Around him, only death and destruction remained—every other soldier and slave lay lifeless on the sand.

The Elder dodged Rakel’s next attack. It kicked up sand and used the bodies of its kin as shields. Rakel’s blade blurred as it deflected incoming projectiles and carved deep wounds into the Elder’s flesh. Blood sprayed with every strike.

Stark couldn’t follow their movements anymore; they were too fast.

Suddenly, Rakel lunged with a deadly stab. The Elder sidestepped, its arm coiling around Rakel’s like a serpent. With a growl, it shifted its weight and hurled him into the air. Rakel slammed into the ground with a sickening thud, sand puffing up around him.

"ARGHH!!" Rakel screamed.

The Elder wasted no time, grabbing a boulder from the ground.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Rakel roared, staggering to his feet. One eye was swollen shut, and blood dripped from countless wounds. He shifted course toward Stark, using the Elder’s blind spot to gain an advantage.

The Elder grinned maliciously and hurled the boulder, its aim flawless.

Rakel had no choice but to face it head-on.

With a roar, he swung his blade. The boulder split in two, fragments scattering across the battlefield.

Stark flinched, squeezing his eyes shut.

The ground shook, and sand rained over him.

I’m safe… he thought with relief. But something warm and sticky coated his side. A lone shard had taken his arm away.

Shivering, he turned his head. His stomach dropped.

His arm was gone. Blood gushed from the shoulder.

“ARGHHHHHH!” Stark screamed, his voice raw with agony.

Tears blurred his vision as he clutched at the bleeding wound. “No! No! Why…?”

Through the pain, he gritted his teeth and watched Rakel charging again. The Squire dodged the Elder’s swing, his blade flashing as it severed the creature’s forearm.

With a screech, the Elder became frenzied, attacking savagely. Wounds mounted on both sides.

He severed its other arm and, with a final leap, drove his sword into the creature’s single scarlet eye.

The Elder collapsed with a guttural howl.

“DIE!” Rakel screamed, slashing its head clean from its shoulders. The massive body slumped, lifeless, into the blood-soaked sand.

Stark winced in pain, his breath ragged. Somehow, he had survived the attack, chained to the crazed man who still muttered incoherently.

His gaze locked on Squire Rakel, who was struggling to rise. The Elder Bone-eater lay dead in the sand, its severed head resting near its body.

Yes... I survived… Stark thought.

Rakel huffed, planting his bloodied sword into the sand for support. “Why... Why is an Elder Bone-eater on this route? It was supposed... to be... safe,” his voice faltering.

Behind him, the sand shifted. Stark’s eyes widened as he saw the grains cascade off something massive. Another Elder Bone-eater emerged, its mouth stretching into a sinister grin.

No…

The creature moved with terrifying speed. Its arm swung in a blur.

“move!” Stark’s voice caught in his throat.

But it was too late.

The blow struck Rakel, severing his body cleanly at the waist. His upper half was flung into the air before landing lifelessly in the sand.

Stark froze in horror, his body trembling. The strongest among them had fallen, and now the creature’s mocking gaze turned to him.

No… No… I have to run... I don’t want to die!

He crawled backward, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The chain binding him jerked, stopping his retreat. The crazed man lay sprawled on the sand, still chanting incoherently.

“Yo...u... Bastard,” Stark choked, his voice trembling as he grabbed the chain. “Get up... Get up!”

The Bone-eater took a step forward, its grin widening. Stark’s heart pounded in his chest.

I want to live...

Blood soaked Stark’s side, seeping from the shoulder. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his vision blurred. The Bone-eater inched closer. Stark clawed at the sand, trying to drag himself away, but his strength was failing. The world around him dimmed, a haze of pain and fear engulfing him.

Suddenly, the crazed man sprang to his feet, his voice a wretched scream that pierced the chaos.

“DEVIL! IT’S THE DEVIL... NO—”

The Bone-eater’s hand shot forward, gripping the man’s head. With a crunch, it crushed his skull. Blood splattered across the sand, mingling with fragments of bone and brain matter.

“DON’T COME CLOSE!” Stark screamed, his strength nearly spent.

The Bone-eater raised its head to strike when—

A dark beam of light erupted through the air, striking the Bone-eater’s head. The creature froze. A gaping hole burned through its skull, and its body remained standing for a moment before beginning to crumble. Purple ash consumed its form, scattering in the wind dissolving into nothingness.

Stark’s breath hitched as his fading eyes searched for the source. A figure floated above. Its golden eyes shimmered like molten lava, and a purple flame danced in its hand.

Who...

Before he could finish the thought, darkness claimed him.