The desert was quiet again. Only the crimson wind danced across the dunes where blood had spilled moments ago.
The battle was over.
Atank, the mighty unstable warrior, lay sprawled on the scorching sand. His breathing was shallow, eyes half open, staring blankly at the burning sky. The shadow of the setting sun painted his body in gold and red — a dying warrior's light.
His sword, the Silver Amulet, lay beside him, cracked and lifeless. A faint hum still echoed within it, like a heart refusing to stop. Atank coughed, spitting blood, and with trembling hands, tried to lift himself up — but his body refused to move.
Then, as the wind brushed against his face, memories began to flood his fading mind.
He saw a younger version of himself — laughing beside his little brother Umair, beneath a half-built shelter before the Solar Blast. Umair's smile was wide, pure. In his hands, a small wooden sword.
"Brother, look! I made this for you," Umair had said, eyes sparkling.
Atank smiled and ruffled his brother's hair. "Nice. You made it by yourself. You're cool, Umair."
"Promise me something," Umair said, serious for once. "If one of us dies, the other must live on. Always."
Atank had nodded. "Always. No matter what."
Now, lying in the same world that had burned since that day, Atank's lips trembled. "You idiot… we really kept that promise close, huh?"
He looked at the cracked sky and whispered weakly, "Prince… you taught us well."
He remembered the man who once trained both brothers — Prince, the first unstable to discover resurrection and Solar transfer — a secret art that allowed one life to merge into another. The technique of Eternal soul Transfer.
Prince had told them, "This is no gift. It's a curse. When you give your life to another, you don't just die… your soul burns forever inside them."
Atank smiled faintly. "I guess I'll burn then… for him."
He raised his shaking hand toward the red sun and shouted with the last strength left in his lungs —
"Umair! Live long… my brother!"
His body began to glow. White flames mixed with golden Solar light swirled around him. The ground cracked beneath his body as a massive sphere of energy burst out from his chest — an orb of pure life. It hovered for a moment, flickering like a dying star… and then shot across the desert like a comet.
Miles away, on the battlefield where Umair's corpse still lay — cold and still, eyes lifeless — the orb found its destination.
The energy collided with Umair's body, sinking into his chest. The sand around him exploded, scattering in waves. His fingers twitched. His chest rose. The wounds stitched themselves with black light.
And then — his eyes snapped open.
A sharp breath escaped his lips. He stood up slowly, looking at his own hands. His body, his strength, his life — all returned. He stared at the empty air where he could still feel his brother's presence fading.
"So…" Umair murmured, his voice calm and cold. "He died. My foolish brother."
He glanced around at the battlefield, his expression blank at first — but then a crooked smile spread across his face. "He actually did it. He kept his promise. He gave me his life."
A small chuckle escaped him — growing darker, louder.
"Haha… hahahahaha! That's what I wanted. I told him he would die first! And he did!"
The desert wind howled, as if even nature was disgusted.
Then Umair's eyes fell on something lying nearby — Raj's dead body, still half buried in sand, his face peaceful in death. Umair tilted his head, curious.
"Hmm… so this is your friend, Rayen? The one you tried so hard to protect?"
He knelt beside Raj, placing his glowing hand over the corpse. "You'll make a good weapon."
He grinned — that cold, demonic grin of an unstable.
"Why waste a body when you can create a slave?"
The air turned black. Umair began chanting the Resurrection Command that Prince once whispered in their forbidden lessons —
"From shadow to flesh, from death to breath… awaken to my will."
A crimson mark burned across Raj's forehead. His body twitched violently. His veins pulsed with corrupted Solar energy. Umair's eyes gleamed with madness.
Then, slowly, Raj opened his eyes — glowing red, blank, soulless.
He gasped for air, confused. "Wha… what happened? Where am I?"
Umair smiled. "You're alive, my friend. And now, you serve me."
Raj tried to step back. "Who are you? What are you saying—?"
Umair's voice turned sharp and deep. "You are my slave now. Forget everything. Forget Rayen. Forget your past."
He pressed his hand against Raj's forehead. The Solar mark pulsed. Raj screamed, grabbing his head, his memories shattering like glass.
Moments later, his body went still. His eyes turned empty again — awaiting command.
Umair whispered softly, almost affectionately, "Now… let's kill Rayen together, my puppet."
Raj bowed slightly, his voice cold and obedient. "As you command, Master."
The desert wind roared once again, carrying their laughter into the fading horizon.
The dead had risen, and vengeance had taken a new form.
---
Meanwhile, at Mount Hizrou…
Far away from the cursed desert, peace still lingered — the only green left in the world. Inside a mountain temple, surrounded by glowing dragon statues, Master was kneeling before a massive stone carving of a dragon god. The flickering candles cast long shadows across the walls.
His lips moved silently as he prayed.
"Oh, great Dragon Spirit… watch over my student Yash. Guide him through the storm that approaches."
A faint hum echoed through the temple as if the dragon statue itself acknowledged his words.
Master opened his eyes slowly. "The storm is near. I can feel the storm rising from the south."
The scene shifted to the outside — where the wind picked up, trees swayed, and clouds above the mountain turned dark.
Lightning flashed for the first time in months.
---
Back in the desert, Umair stood tall, his new power radiating from him. Raj followed silently, like a shadow with no will of his own.
Umair looked at the horizon where Aero Capital's black car had vanished.
"Run, Rayen," he whispered with a grin. "Heal. Grow stronger. Because the next time we meet… you'll die for real."
He raised his hand, a small spark of Solar energy dancing in his palm.
The desert howled again, and as the sun disappeared, two figures — the resurrected — walked into the blood-red dusk.