Reincarnated with the Country System

"Desert winds rising," one officer reported. "Thermals from the east. Visibility will drop in six klicks."

Kaelen nodded. "Deploy Stormwings. I want eyes up. If those Chameleari ghosts are out there, we flush them before they vanish again."

Another officer stepped forward. "Resistance reports from Sector Nine. Two patrols wiped out. No survivors."

Kaelen didn't flinch. "That's the third this week. The reptiles are getting bold."

He turned to the central display, which showed a 3D map of the region. Dozens of red blips moved in synchronized columns—each a Juggernaut in the Imperial spearhead. Blue zones indicated cleared territory. Yellow flashes marked probable rebel hideouts. One corner of the map flickered with a warning: Unknown Activity—Sand Echoes Detected.

"Mark it," Kaelen ordered. "Send in Striders. No blind spots."

...

Despite the overwhelming power the Bernard Empire brought to bear, this was not a war they could win easily. The Northern Hills were ancient and unforgiving. Their twisting ravines and jagged cliffs provided ample hiding places for enemies who had grown up learning every grain of sand, every wind-shifted trail.

The Chameleari did not engage in fair fights. They disappeared, only to strike from places the machines could not reach.

But the Empire was patient—and methodical.

★★★

The chief, Marrak of the Black Sand Clan, emerged from his tent of layered hides and bone struts.

"They come, Chief."

Marrak's eyes narrowed. "Then the time is now."

At his signal, a low horn echoed across the rocks. From hidden cracks and ravines, more Chameleari emerged, their armor woven from desert silk and sandstone plates. Among them walked not just warriors, but elders, medics, and children old enough to carry supplies. Everyone had a role.

A lean female stepped forward beside Marrak—his second-in-command, Sael. Her voice was steady, cool as midnight. "Will the sand swallow them?"

Marrak nodded slowly. "Yes. But not yet. Let the machines believe they see all."

He turned toward the wide canyon floor ahead, where an unusual structure sat in partial ruin—a half-buried carcass of an old mining station, abandoned decades ago when the ore ran dry. Now, its collapsed tunnels served a new purpose.

"Are the charges placed?"

Sael gave a sharp nod. "Rigged and ready. The Striders' paths are being herded toward the dead zones. We'll let them come."

"Let the god awaken."

...

Stormwings buzzed overhead—sleek, predatory silhouettes that scanned with piercing beams and infrared lenses. But the Chameleari had learned to hide their heat signatures. Scorparids hunkered in shaded clefts, breathing shallowly. Cloaked shapes clung to canyon walls, motionless as stone.

The first Striders entered the ruins.

Four-legged, sensor-eyed drones with scanning limbs and shock rifles mounted beneath their bellies, they prowled in tight formation. Marrak watched from a concealed overlook, his breathing calm. Each movement below was cataloged by Sael beside him, her claw poised near the detonator carved from hollowed bone.

One drone paused near a pile of rock. Its scanners pulsed. It stepped closer.

Click.

The explosion was brief and brutal. The clay charge detonated upward, shredding the Strider in a flash of jagged steel and shattered ceramic. The shockwave ricocheted through the canyon.

The other drones shrieked warnings into the Neural Grid.

Marrak spoke quickly. "Phase One—now!"

From crevices and high ledges, Chameleari warriors launched their assault. Arrows streaked into Striders' optics. Blade-fighters leapt from above, landing on drone backs and plunging obsidian daggers into joints and circuitry. Within two minutes, all five Striders were scrap.

But that wasn't the goal. The real prize was yet to arrive.

★★★

Inside Hammerfall, Commander Kaelen stood unmoved.

"They're baiting us," one officer said.

"I know." Kaelen's voice was calm. "Send forward elements of Third Platoon. Two Juggernauts advance to the inner gorge. Deploy the Scorch Line."

"Sir? But—"

"They think they've hidden in those ruins. We'll dig them out."

...

The ground rumbled.

Two Juggernauts moved into the canyon, treads whining, stabilizers adjusting for uneven ground. On their flanks, auxiliary vehicles deployed hydraulic drills and flamethrowers—tools for both mining and war. A dome-like structure on Hammerfall's underside opened, and a bulbous sensor suite extended downward, probing the sand with seismic pulses.

Kaelen leaned in toward the display. "If they're beneath us, we'll see it."

"Sir, anomalies," said the engineer. "The scans… are returning false echoes. Distorted."

"Jamming?"

"No, sir. Organic movement. Large. Moving... toward us."

Kaelen's head snapped up. "Zoom in."

...

Beneath the sands, something stirred.

The Chameleari didn't name it. It was old. Older than their clans. They called it simply the Devourer. And they had learned long ago to live around its paths.

But today, they had fed it blood.

The vibrations of the Juggernauts—so deep, so sustained—were like thunder to the creature.

And it was hungry.

From a ridge overlooking the basin, Marrak watched the surface tremble. He whispered to Sael, "Now."

She pressed the second detonator.

Charges along the canyon wall exploded in sequence—not to collapse, but to funnel. A sudden landslide blocked retreat. Sand poured down, reshaping the terrain into a narrow throat of stone and dust.

The lead Juggernaut's stabilizers failed briefly. Its rear tread slipped sideways into the softening ground.

And then the sand erupted.

The worm—nearly 200 meters long—burst from the dune in a cyclone of grit and fury. Its armored hide was crusted with ancient stone and desert coral. A mouth the size of a house opened, ringed with jagged, grinding plates. The Juggernaut didn't have time to fire.

It was swallowed whole.

The impact threw sand in all directions. Chameleari ducked for cover. One Stormwing crashed into a cliff as the shockwave scrambled its controls. The second Juggernaut began to fire—but the worm was already diving, slithering beneath it. The ground beneath the machine gave way like a trapdoor. It collapsed, treads snapping, hull crumpling like paper.

...

From the other side of the ridge, Kaelen's display went red.

"What in the name of the Empire was that?"

"Unknown megafauna. Not in regional files. It's—it's attacking the column!"

Kaelen's jaw clenched. He slammed his fist into the table. "Pull back. All units! Reorient formation. Get airborne assets clear!"

But the Neural Grid was sluggish. The sandstorm, the magnetic interference from the canyon walls—it all combined into chaos.