Blood in the Sand

The desert was quiet again, but silence didn't mean safety.

I stood over the two scavengers, breathing hard, my grip still tight around the shard of stone. The leader was on the ground, one hand pressed to their ribs where I'd slammed into them. The restless one clutched their bleeding arm, their breath ragged but still filled with anger. Neither of them made a move to attack again. Not yet.

The night air was colder than before, but my skin was still hot from the fight. My muscles ached, and adrenaline surged through me, keeping me alert.

This was the first real fight I'd been in since arriving in Turgan. The creatures—the sandworms, the flying things, the thing that had stumbled through the dunes like a broken puppet—those were different. They were monsters, and you didn't think too hard about killing monsters.

But these two? They weren't so different from me.

I adjusted my stance, keeping them both in my line of sight. "You made the wrong choice."

The restless one spat blood into the sand, their expression twisted with fury. "Screw you."

The leader stayed quiet, their dark eyes unreadable. They weren't angry. They were thinking. Weighing their options. That made them dangerous.

I glanced at the restless one. "You're lucky. I didn't kill you."

They scoffed, but there was unease in their expression now. They knew how close I'd come.

The leader exhaled slowly, sitting up with a wince. "You fight like someone who's been here longer than a day."

I didn't answer. I wasn't about to explain myself to them.

They studied me for a moment before shaking their head. "Doesn't matter. You've made your point."

They shifted slightly, reaching toward their belt. I tensed, but instead of grabbing a weapon, they pulled out a small, dark object and tossed it onto the sand between us. A metal canister, dented but intact.

"Water," the leader said. "Consider it an apology."

I didn't move. "And the catch?"

"No catch. You earned it."

The restless one shot them a look. "You're just going to—"

The leader silenced them with a glance. Then they met my eyes again. "Take it. Or don't. But you should know by now that water's worth more than blood in this place."

They weren't wrong.

I stepped forward cautiously, keeping my guard up as I crouched to pick up the canister. I felt its weight—heavier than I expected. When I unscrewed the top, the scent of clean water hit me like a drug.

I took a sip. Cool. Pure. I hadn't realized how dry my throat had become.

When I screwed the cap back on, the leader was already rising to their feet, dusting the sand from their clothes. "We're done here," they said to the restless one. "Come on."

The restless one shot me a final glare but followed without argument. As they turned to leave, I caught one last glimpse of the hole they'd been digging. The sand was uneven, disturbed, but whatever they'd been looking for… it wasn't there.

I frowned.

"What was it?" I asked.

The leader paused, glancing back at me. Their lips quirked into something almost like a smile. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Then they were gone, disappearing into the night.

I waited until their footsteps faded before exhaling, finally letting my muscles relax. I looked down at the water in my hands and then at the disturbed sand where they'd been searching.

An artifact. Something old. Something powerful.

Whatever it was, they hadn't found it.

But someone else might.

I shook my head. It wasn't my concern.

For now, I had water. I had a little more experience. And I had a warning, even if I wasn't sure what to do with it. The hooded figure's words still echoed in my mind. The System doesn't care about you. You're a tool, nothing more.

I turned back toward the rocky outcropping where I'd taken shelter earlier. The fight had drained me, but I couldn't afford to rest for long. The desert didn't give second chances.

And somewhere out there, the next threat was already waiting.