World of Rules

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After the Bloody Battle, Silence Returned to the Desert

But it was not a silence of peace—it was a silence heavy with loss. Blood-stained sands bore witness to the battle that had just taken place.

The surviving guards stood, panting, their bodies covered in wounds. Some leaned on their weapons, while others sat on the sand, trying to process what had happened. There was no time for mourning; in the desert, one either moved forward or was forgotten.

The tall man finally moved, holding the yellow crystal he had extracted from the sandworm’s body. He examined it for a moment before slipping it quietly into his pocket.

“We continue.”

His voice was steady, devoid of sympathy or sorrow. To him, this was just another stop on a long road.

The guards gathered themselves, dragging the bodies of their fallen comrades onto one of the remaining carts. Those who could not be identified were left behind, their torn remains sinking into the sand—as if they had never existed.

The wrecked carts were salvaged for useful parts before being abandoned, half-buried in the desert, soon to be swallowed by time.

From a distance, Di watched everything unfold in silence. Nothing was unexpected, yet he found himself thinking more about the caravan leader than the battle itself. A man of second-tier strength had no business leading a trade caravan through the desert.

But that was none of his concern… not yet.

---

The caravan moved once more, albeit at a slower pace. Losing carts meant redistributing the load, making the journey even more grueling.

The sun crept across the sky, its searing heat beating down on the endless dunes. Hot winds carried fine grains of sand, stinging the travelers’ faces—a warning that the desert still had not accepted them.

Hours passed in silence. Fatigue began to show on everyone’s faces, the journey weighing heavier with each step.

“How much farther?” one of the guards asked, his voice dry, his eyes half-closed with exhaustion.

“Less than a day… if we keep going without stopping,” another replied, though his words carried little confidence.

They all knew the city was close. But in the desert, distance was deceptive. One could see a destination yet take hours—perhaps even days—to reach it.

Di walked in silence, unaffected by the heat, the fatigue, or the worries that plagued the others. The journey was nothing more than another step forward.

---

As evening approached, the horizon began to shift.

Faint silhouettes emerged in the distance, wavering under the last rays of the sun. At first, they seemed like nothing more than another set of dunes, but as time passed, the truth became clear—

“There it is…” one of the guards murmured, hope flickering in his tired eyes.

The city.

From afar, it looked like a mirage, yet they all knew it was real. Towering stone walls, defensive watchtowers guarding the entrance, banners swaying lazily in the wind.

This was their destination. The safe haven they had endured so much to reach.

But… safety was still an illusion.

Because the desert always had one final test before letting its travelers go.

---

They were not far now.

The city’s walls stood tall in the distance, banners fluttering above them as if welcoming the weary travelers.

But—

BOOM!

Without warning, three massive spheres of fire streaked through the air, leaving glowing trails behind them as they hurtled toward the armored carriage at the center of the caravan.

CRASH!

The carriage exploded. Metal fragments flew in all directions, flames engulfing its remains, thick smoke rising into the sky.

For a moment, everything was still—frozen in shock. Then—

“The caravan master?!”

A guard’s frantic cry rang out. But there was no answer.

The tall man was nowhere to be seen. Only the smoldering wreckage remained, the last traces of his presence lost in the chaos.

Footsteps echoed through the settling dust.

Two figures emerged from the smoke. The first was an old man, his thin frame draped in a simple gray robe, sharp eyes scanning the destruction with unsettling calm. Beside him stood a towering, muscular man, his shirt torn from his massive build, his expression twisted in irritation.

The brute scowled at the wreckage. “He escaped.”

The old man’s gaze narrowed. His voice was quiet but firm. “We cannot allow him to reach the city with that object.”

The brute’s eyes flicked toward the remaining caravan members.

There was no hesitation.

He raised his hand—

And in that instant—

WHOOSH!

Five enormous fireballs ignited above his palm, each one pulsing with a deep crimson glow, radiating destructive energy.

BOOM!

They descended upon the caravan.

Screams. Explosions. Flames consuming everything.

In mere moments, the caravan was no more. Carts burned, guards fell without a chance to flee, and even the sand itself blackened under the intense heat. Thick, dark smoke spiraled into the sky.

From a distance, Di watched.

He did not move. He had no reason to.

This was not his fight. These were not his people.

He simply observed, his cold eyes following the two figures as they wiped out the caravan with terrifying ease.

Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, the two vanished into the horizon, their silhouettes swallowed by the desert twilight.

Di remained still, his gaze lingering on the path they had taken.

He stood there for a long moment. Then—

Without a word, he turned.

And continued walking toward the city.

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