The Neutral Zone was not a place people went on holiday.
It was a vast, endless ocean of white sand, sandwiched between the lush jungles of the Tiger Sector and the frozen peaks of the Wolf North. There were no trees. No water. No cover. Just wind, silence, and the bones of ancient beasts.
THUD.
The Abyssal Hunter touched down on a massive dune, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Rurik stepped out first. He sneezed immediately.
"I hate sand," Rurik grumbled, shaking his fur. "It gets in the ears. It gets in the boots. It takes weeks to get it out."
"Focus, fuzzball," Rajah said, jumping down beside him. He planted his greatsword in the sand. "This is the kill box. No civilians to save. No buildings to break. Just us and them."
Caspian stepped out, shielding his eyes from the purple glare of the sky. "It is dry," he noted unhappily. "My scales are already itching."
