The desert never slept.
It only waited.
Heat shimmered across the dunes, rippling like breath over an open wound. Every step sank half a foot into powder-fine sand that burned through boots and armor alike. The wind hissed, dry and patient, whispering that sooner or later even steel would crumble here.
John led the way, cloak drawn tight against the light. The sun above was a white disc, blinding and cruel, but his gaze stayed forward—steady, unblinking.
Tamara followed a few paces behind, her steps lighter, precise. Frost shimmered faintly around her boots, cooling the air just enough to keep them from roasting alive.
Blake trudged last, muttering to himself, shirt half open, a dagger twirling idly between his fingers.
Ember padded beside John, each paw-print glowing faint gold before the sand swallowed it. His mane of light flickered lazily, the only thing beautiful in a world that had forgotten softness.
They had been walking south for three days.
No ruins. No rivers. Only sand, wind, and hunger.
"I'd be glad to never see sand again after we get to this city," Blake grumbled.
Tamara gave a faint smile without looking back. "You do know The city is surrounded with sand"
He scowled. "You always ruin my fun."
John didn't answer. His mind was elsewhere, tracing every horizon, every mirage that shimmered and vanished again. He was used to silence now—his thoughts quieter, sharper, guided by the slow pulse of the spirit that lived inside his heart.
It came first as a faint vibration.
Then another.
Then the ground moved.
"Tell me that's you, Ember," Blake said.
The bear's ears flattened, and a low growl rolled from his throat.
"Not him," John said quietly.
The sand exploded.
A mass of rock and scales erupted from below, throwing them apart like dolls. The creature's body twisted through the air, the size of a small ship, its skin the color of stone. Two molten eyes snapped open in its skull.
Rock Snake. E-tier — Stage One.
John didn't need Alaric's whisper to know what it was. The pressure alone was enough. The air thickened, heavy with killing intent.
Tamara was already moving, frost blooming around her feet.
Ember lunged, roaring.
The serpent dove, jaws unhinging wide enough to swallow a horse. John rolled aside, his boots striking burning sand as the creature slammed into the dune where he'd stood. Sand and rock rained down in an avalanche.
Then the ground behind them cracked open, and another one emerged.
"Two!" John shouted.
Blake cursed. "Because one wasn't enough!"
The first snake lashed its tail. Tamara blocked, ice blooming across her arms in a spiral pattern. The impact sent her skidding backward, leaving a trench of frost in the dune.
Ember pounced, claws blazing white-gold, slamming into the serpent's neck. Light burst like molten fire, searing through stone-hard scales. The creature screamed, a noise like boulders breaking.
Blake darted between dunes, his daggers glinting green. He leapt, spun, and buried both blades into the second snake's eyes. Venom hissed from the wound; he twisted the blades and dropped away just as its head smashed into the ground.
John's short sword flashed into his hands. His pulse slowed, the world narrowing into rhythm and motion. When the first serpent lunged again, he met it halfway—one thrust, then another. Fire coiled around the sword, igniting along the blade's edge.
He pivoted low, drawing the weapon across its underbelly.
A line of burning light split the scales.
The beast howled, thrashing violently. Ember met it with a roar that shook the dunes, claws tearing open its chest in a shower of sparks.
"Now!" John shouted.
Tamara lifted her hand.
"Fracture."
The air cracked. A bloom of ice detonated through the serpent's body, freezing it from within. When it fell, the impact sent a plume of frost and sand into the air.
The second snake twisted in agony, blind and enraged. Blake vaulted onto its back, stabbing again and again. Venom sprayed across the sand, sizzling like acid.
John sprinted forward, leaping onto its head. His short sword flared once more.
"Burn."
The blade struck deep. Light and fire erupted together, bursting the serpent apart from the inside.
For a moment, the world went silent except for their breathing.
Then both beasts collapsed, their massive bodies sinking slowly back into the dunes.
Blake landed on his back, gasping. "You know, I'm starting to miss the scorpions."
Tamara sheathed her sword with a sharp snap. "We can always bring you back to your queen."
Blake just ignored the last comment
Ember padded toward John, nudging him with his muzzle. The bear's fur was streaked with sand and blood, but his eyes burned steady.
John rested a hand against the creature's head. "Good work."
The voice came then—soft, approving.
"Efficient. Controlled. Well done."
John didn't flinch. "How long were you watching, Master?"
"Since the earth moved. Those serpents were E-rank, first step. Stronger than anything you've fought in that ruined realm of mine. You handled them well."
John exhaled slowly. The praise warmed him more than the desert ever could.
He knelt beside one carcass, slicing open the chest to extract a glowing crystal core. It pulsed faint gold in his palm.
"Beast cores," he said aloud. "They'll sell for a good price in the city."
Blake peered over his shoulder. "I'd rather sell the whole damn snakes."
John ignored him and slipped the core into his storage ring.
That was when Alaric's tone changed—calm, curious, almost excited.
"There's something nearby you'll want, boy."
John wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Another monster?"
"A plant. Rarer than any beast you've slain."
An image formed in his mind: a cactus of translucent crystal, a single golden flower blooming from its crown. The petals shimmered like sunlight trapped in glass.
"The Light Cactus," Alaric said. "It blooms once every century. Its nectar condenses pure spiritual light. One petal can help a cultivator break through to the Light Spiritualist realm."
John frowned. "What I call E-rank."
"You and your crude letters," Alaric muttered fondly. "Yes, that one. The cactus is east of here, a few leagues. Guarded by beasts much like these."
John considered it. "Is it worth the risk?"
"More than worth it. The flower's nectar can refine light energy and amplify your alchemy. Sell it in the Desert City, and you could buy every ingredient you need for the next breakthrough."
John's grip tightened on his spear. "Then we're going after it."
"Not yet. The Light Cactus blooms under the moon. Travel east at night, when the heat fades. I'll guide you then."
By dusk they made camp among low dunes, half-hidden by the wind.
The sun bled into the horizon, leaving the sky painted in bruised colors. Stars blinked awake one by one.
Tamara sat beside Ember, her frost aura cooling the air around them. Blake had already fallen asleep under a cloak, mumbling something about cold women and warm beer.
John stayed awake, staring east. The air shimmered faintly, a ghost of heat trapped beneath the sand.
"You feel it," Alaric said. "That vibration. The world's pulse. It leads to power, if you learn to listen."
John closed his eyes, breathing with the rhythm of the desert. Beneath the noise of wind, he could almost hear it—a slow, steady heartbeat echoing through the ground.
"The cactus draws light into itself," Alaric continued. "When it blooms, it releases that power in a single breath. Catch it, and the essence is yours. Fail, and the flower turns to ash."
"So it's delicate."
"Delicate?" The spirit chuckled. "It's alive. Everything that gathers light learns to fight for it."
John's lips twitched faintly. "So, another fight, then."
"There is Always another fight."
The silence that followed was heavy but not cold. For the first time, the spirit's presence felt less like a weight and more like a heartbeat beside his own.
John reached into his satchel. Glass clinked softly—vials of pale fluid, the remnants of old experiments. His fingers brushed the cracked label of his first healing potion. It seemed crude now. Amateurish.
He smiled faintly. "Then let's hunt a flower, Master."
"Spoken like a cultivator."
Alaric's voice carried pride—and something else, a note of satisfaction that hummed deep within the chest.
"Rest while you can. You'll need your strength before dawn."
The desert night grew quiet.
Only the wind whispered through the dunes, cold and endless.
John leaned back against Ember's flank, eyes half-open to the stars. Tamara sat across the fire, her face calm, silver hair catching the moonlight. For a fleeting moment, the world didn't feel broken.
The spirit's words lingered, steady and sure:
Power sleeps beneath this land. And those who dare to claim it… awaken it.
John's eyes closed. The corner of his mouth curved upward.
Tomorrow, they would wake the desert.