The Desert's Malice
"This place is beyond stranded now," Laura muttered, her voice laced with growing dread. Her sharp eyes scanned the lifeless desert. Even by desert standards, this was abnormal. The natural cycle of life was shattered.
"Even in the harshest conditions, life thrives in one form or another…" she continued, her throat dry with anxiety. "But here, nothing. Not even vultures or sand crawlers."
A realization hit her.
"…Just what kind of monster has entered this place?"
A sickening chill crept up her spine. Every fiber of her body screamed at her to turn back. The sensible thing to do was return to the castle, admit she found nothing, and keep the people safe. There was no point in searching for Einar now—he was most definitely dead.
Even if he had changed, even if he had grown stronger, there was no way a mere mortal could survive in a desert this corrupted. The monstrous force that had twisted this land was beyond human.
She gritted her teeth.
"I should leave…"
Her trembling hands yanked the reins of her horse, ready to turn around—
—but she hesitated.
A faint whisper in her heart clawed at her conscience.
What if he's alive?
The thought was irrational. Even if by some twisted miracle he had survived, he was just a man. No powers, no awakening.
What could he do against something powerful enough to devour the entire desert's ecosystem?
"…I have to know," she whispered.
And so she pressed on.
The further she traveled, the more dread settled in her bones.
...
After a full week of relentless travel—devoid of rest or sleep—Laura finally found something.
Footprints.
Numerous overlapping footprints scattered across the sands—some slithering like massive serpents, others clawed like desert scorpions.
Her breath hitched when she noticed something far more disturbing.
The footprints were all heading in one direction.
"Collective hunting…" she mumbled, her voice trembling.
Desert creatures didn't hunt like this. Scorpions, sand striders, death worms—they were all territorial and solitary. They didn't cooperate.
But here, the tracks clearly showed them moving in unison, like soldiers under command.
"…They were after something."
Her heart raced. She forced her horse forward, carefully trailing the tracks.
Even as exhaustion gnawed at her bones and her parched throat burned, she didn't stop. Something at the end of this trail called to her.
...
Roughly 500 meters ahead, the tracks deepened—like something heavy had dragged across the sand.
Then she heard it.
Screeches.
Gut-wrenching, animalistic screeches that dug into her eardrums. They sounded like the wails of dying beasts—high-pitched and agonizing.
Her horse trembled. So did she.
"…What the hell is happening?"
Without thinking, she drove her horse forward.
The closer she got, the louder the screeches became. But something about them was off.
They didn't sound predatory.
They sounded… fearful.
"…The creatures are afraid."
A new dread settled in her stomach.
What could possibly scare the apex predators of this desert?
The answer came faster than she expected.
...
WHOOSH!
A massive creature flew past her.
Her horse reared in panic as the colossal beast crashed into the sand beside her—its massive, chitinous body twisted unnaturally.
Laura's mind froze.
"What—?"
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Two more creatures—each the size of a Unihorse—were hurled like ragdolls from beyond the horizon. Their twisted bodies crumpled upon impact, thick, greenish blood oozing into the sand.
Her heart stopped.
"…They're being thrown?"
Suddenly, another flying creature hurtled toward her. She barely managed to yank the reins and avoid being crushed, but the momentum threw her from her horse.
She hit the ground hard, sand filling her mouth and nose.
"Ugh—!!"
Scrambling to her feet, she yanked out a dagger from her spatial ring, expecting the predator to pounce—
But nothing did.
Instead, she felt it.
A presence.
Towering behind her was a shadow, long and serpentine, its guttural hissing echoing through the wind.
"…A sand serpent…" she realized, clutching her dagger tightly.
Its beady black eyes locked onto her, malice dripping from its gaze.
Laura didn't hesitate. She lunged.
But just as she did—
BAM!
The serpent's massive body blurred, as if something had crashed into it with overwhelming force.
The next thing she saw was the creature flying like a broken toy, crashing into a nearby sand dune.
"…What?"
Her wide, disbelieving eyes snapped toward the source of the impact.
And there he stood.
Einar.
...
Her breath caught in her throat.
"…Einar?"
She barely recognized him.
His once bulky frame had been reduced to a lean, muscular build. His waist was narrow, his shoulders broad, and his limbs toned like hardened steel. His raven-black hair was wild and untamed, his crimson-red eyes burning with a ghastly intensity.
His clothes were practically nonexistent—merely torn rags from whatever he had once worn. His skin was scratched, burned, and dirtied—yet his presence was terrifyingly regal.
And he wasn't alone.
Behind him—dozens of desert creatures swarmed like rabid beasts, their frenzied howls piercing the air.
Yet none of them could touch him.
With unnatural agility, Einar tore through them.
A sand scorpion lunged.
BAM!
Einar's bare fist caved in its skull, green blood splattering across his skin.
A serpent wrapped around him.
CRACK!
He grabbed its jaw, ripping it apart with raw strength, its body convulsing before falling limp.
"…He's butchering them."
Laura's mind spiraled into disbelief.
These creatures were supposed to be apex predators—the kings of the desert. And yet, Einar was annihilating them with his bare hands.
But something was wrong.
The creatures didn't fight him—they hunted him.
Their movements were frantic, desperate—like something was forcing them to attack. Their minds were gone.
"They're angry…"
And Einar…
He didn't care.
His face was blank, devoid of emotion as he butchered them methodically. His crimson gaze flicked from one creature to the next, his movements swift and mechanical.
"He's… not the same."
...
Einar grabbed a charging beast by the throat.
Without flinching, he squeezed.
A sickening crack echoed, the creature's spine snapping as its body went limp. Einar tossed it aside like garbage and moved to the next target.
"Einar!!" Laura screamed, her voice raw with desperation.
For a brief moment—his head twitched.
He turned to her, crimson eyes meeting hers.
Emotionless. Cold.
"…Laura?"
Her throat clenched. His voice was wrong—devoid of warmth.
Suddenly, his body shuddered subtly. Black veins crawled up his skin, his crimson gaze flashing briefly before returning to its dull void.
"…What is happening to him?"
Seeing the black veins crawling his body, she was scared.
And yet… she still ran to him.
"Stop! Please!"
Another creature lunged.
Einar didn't flinch.
CRACK!
His fist obliterated its skull.
Laura froze.
He wasn't fighting like a human anymore.
He was fighting like a predator.
"…Einar, what happened to you?"
And from a long distance—something watched.