Echoes of the Howl

Reality kept shifting relentlessly, moving through a breathtaking scene of countless planets and stars rushing by at a dizzying speed, like a fantastical movie unfolding in real time.

But the hero was in no state to appreciate the view around him—he had lost consciousness at the moment of the explosions. Perhaps he was luckier than most; his right arm was broken and twisted awkwardly, and his shoulder bore multiple bruises—a relatively good outcome compared to others whose skulls had exploded without warning.

Suddenly, space tore open once again, creating a massive rift in the middle of an endless desert. Zefir, miserable and unconscious, fell through the breach like a lifeless body drifting into an unknown fate.

Amidst a raging sandstorm, the infamous Dark Skull mercenaries rode their horses, cloaked in thick black cloaks, faces hidden behind strange masks. They were heading toward a new mission on the borders of the Twilight Sky Empire.

This ruthless band of mercenaries would carry out any task—murder, theft, or worse—assigned by high-ranking government officials, all under the leadership of their massive, bald commander with a long black beard named Erlond.

After a day and a half of continuous marching, the members of the group began to show signs of exhaustion.

Zakrox, the deputy commander with long hair tied in a ponytail and a scar stretching from his ear down to his jaw, spoke quietly:

"Commander, the men are complaining about the heat and fatigue. We need to rest."

Erlond remained silent and continued forward stubbornly. Then, his eyes squinted sharply as he spotted a dark figure lying on the desert sand.

"Fine… let's rest here."

The last thing Zefir remembered was mocking the cosmic phenomena. Then everything went dark. Suddenly, a sharp pain surged through his body, as if someone had crushed him entirely. He opened his eyes wide and screamed in agony, his breath ragged, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

"Hah… hah…!"

He glanced to his side and saw his clothes torn, a piece of cloth tightly tied around his shoulder, securing a wooden splint holding his broken arm in place.

Suddenly, a hand clamped over his mouth, muffling his screams.

"Quiet, you foolish child! You'll attract the desert wolves," a voice whispered harshly.

Zefir stared at Erlond in fear and confusion. Wolves? Desert? Where was he? What was happening? Who was this terrifying man?

Erlond kept his hand firmly on Zefir's mouth until the boy calmed down, then warned coldly:

"Try screaming again, and I'll cut your tongue out."

Zefir looked around, searching for an escape, but stumbled as he tried to stand.

"Sit down, boy! Can't you see the state of your shoulder and arm? Who are you, and how did you end up buried in the middle of the empire's desert?"

Zefir remained silent, bewildered and lost for words.

Erlond sighed and pulled a dried piece of meat from a pouch at his waist, placing it in Zefir's uninjured hand.

"Eat this, and gather your strength. This desert spares no weaklings."

Zefir stared at the meat, then Erlond walked away to join the rest of the group.

Lost in thought, Zefir wondered: What was happening? Where was he? Was he in some kind of coma? Or was this a strange dream he'd soon awaken from?

As he calmed himself, his stomach growled fiercely. He took a bite of the meat, only to nearly vomit at the dry, woody taste.

Looking around again, he saw nothing but endless sands. About fifteen meters away, a fire burned, surrounded by several people and tents scattered like ghostly silhouettes on the dunes.

He decided to rise and approach them. But just as he stood, a chorus of wolf howls echoed through the night.

Suddenly, those around the fire drew their weapons with shouts, preparing for an attack.

Zefir glanced left and right in confusion, when a hand grabbed him roughly by the collar and yanked him back.

"Move, foolish child! Get near the fire!"

He turned to see Erlond dragging him forcefully.

At the fire, Zefir noticed the men surrounding it—muscular giants, bodies carved by relentless battles, each armed with spears, swords, daggers, and bows.

They all stared sharply into the darkness, alert and ready.

The wolf howls returned, louder and closer than before.

What would happen next?