Zamian took a deep breath as the realization settled in.

  ‘They can’t see the stars.’

  His instincts flared, whispering to him in warning. His body ached, the sharp stings of dozens of wounds pulsing in and out of focus. He was still bleeding, albeit slowly, his control keeping the worst at bay.

  His Nameless Physique was working overtime, forcing his body to function. If it weren’t for that unnatural control, he would have while still digging that tunnel.

  ‘I need to focus.’

  Closing his eyes for a brief second, he carefully tightened the muscles near his wounds, stabilizing his injuries while keeping the essence flow just right. He didn’t want to spend too much in case he needed to fight, but he also couldn’t leave his body on its own.

  He would leak body points if that was the case.

  The sensation of his organs shifting into place was unsettling, but he barely reacted.

  When he opened his eyes again, the four outsiders were talking amongst themselves.

  Paul clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. "Edmund, whatever you think you saw, you probably just imagined it. Got yourself all paranoid."

  Edmund gave a small nod, as if conceding the point, but his hands never stopped moving with subtle and quick gestures.

  Peter let out a thoughtful hum, rubbing his chin. "Maybe. But we should still keep an eye out. The Sultan doesn’t like surprises."

  Joshua nodded in agreement before shifting his gaze back to Zamian. "You sure you’re good to walk, Kurt?"

  Zamian wiped away a thin trickle of blood from his mouth, catching Edmund’s movements from the corner of his eye before turning back to Joshua. He took another sip of water, letting the cold liquid soothe his throat. "I’ll live."

  Paul chuckled, shaking his head. "You sure about that?"

  Joshua studied him for a moment, then asked, "And those orange stars you mentioned… What was that about?"

  Zamian held his gaze for a beat before scoffing lightly and shaking his head. "Must’ve been seeing things. I was bleeding out in the sand, half-delirious from exhaustion. Not exactly the best state of mind." He took another sip, wiping his mouth. "You ever hear about people seeing mirages in the desert?"

  Peter smirked. "Mirages are usually on the ground, not in the sky."

  The group went quiet, exchanging glances.

  "Alright, enough chit-chat," Paul finally muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Let’s move. We’re not camping out here."

  Zamian nodded, handing the leather pouch back while discreetly watching the slight movements of their hands.

  Every now and then, they made quick, precise gestures. Adjusting their clothes, tapping each other’s arms.

  They weren’t random.

  ‘They’re communicating.’

  Zamian’s mind worked quickly, processing the pattern while feigning exhaustion. The hand signals weren’t warnings. If the outsiders thought he was an immediate threat, they wouldn’t be acting so relaxed.

  ‘They don’t trust me. They’re making sure the Oasis is ready before I arrive.’

  Zamian didn’t blame them.

  He had already guessed the Sultan commanded all his followers and citizens to bring any cultivator who practiced an unknown Pathway directly to him. That was the only logical reason these four would be so willing to escort him, and not attack in on sight.

  But that didn’t mean they were going to bring him straight to the Oasis, without preparing first.

  They had no clue what he was capable of. Or how strong he really was.

  ‘Good. That means they’re cautious, but not hostile. Yet.’

  That caution probably kept them alive so long in the cutthroat desert.

  Paul clapped his hands together. "Alright, we’re not moving any further tonight."

  Joshua frowned. "We’re stopping here?"

  "The night is cold and we still need to wait for the last scout to arrive from his mission," Paul replied. "Besides, the kid looks like he’s ready to drop dead any second now."

  Stolen story; please report.

  Zamian raised an eyebrow. "Last scout?"

  Paul smirked. "Yes, we sent another kid like you to make a surveillance. With the Sanctuary’s invasion and all that, we need to be careful about what leaves and enters the damn tree."

  Joshua and Peter exchanged glances before nodding. Edmund remained silent, his sharp eyes scanning the dunes as if waiting for something.

  Soon, after Zamian got dressed and most of his wounds were clean, they walked for a few minutes, before finding a small entrance in a sand dune.

  This was a prepared hideout, the opening of a cave.

  Paul crouched down, pressing his palm against the sand. Essence flickered beneath his fingers, forcing the grains to compact.

  Within minutes, the opening expanded, forming a tight but stable space beneath the desert.

  Zamian pretended not to notice how Joshua kept shooting Paul and Peter curious looks, while Edmund's attention was only half here.

  ‘Maybe they weren’t together for long.’

  "Inside. All of you," Paul ordered.

  No one argued.

  Zamian entered after Paul, his instincts whispering softly, about how he could easily flee this passage, and didn’t need to worry about being trapped underground for so long again.

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’

  The others followed, Paul stepping in last before sealing part of the entrance, leaving a small gap for air and vision.

  The space inside was just large enough to fit all five of them.

  Paul sat against the farthest wall, arms crossed. "Rest while you can. We leave in a few hours."

  Inside the sand cave, the air was thick with dust and silence. Zamian adjusted his sitting position against the rough wall, keeping his breathing even, while the four outsiders made themselves comfortable.

  Paul leaned back with his arms crossed, while Joshua and Peter sat near the entrance, keeping watch. Edmund, as always, remained quiet, eyes occasionally flicking toward Zamian, assessing him.

  Gone was the facade of an irritated and stupid brother, the outsider revealing his true personality.

  A careful scout, who had heard Zamian’s arrival and knew he couldn’t be a simple cultivator.

  The silence stretched, but Zamian knew better than to break it first.

  Eventually, Peter sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Well, since we’re stuck together for a few hours, might as well talk.” He looked at Zamian. “You ever been to the Oasis, Kurt?”

  Zamian shook his head, keeping his expression neutral. “No. Just heard stories. I was from another… Camp.”

  Joshua let out a dry chuckle. “Stories don’t do it justice. Some think it’s a paradise; others say it’s a prison.”

  Zamian tilted his head. “Which one is it?”

  Paul smirked. “Depends on who you ask.”

  Peter leaned forward. “The Oasis is the last true stronghold of the Desert. The Sultan made sure of that. Every other camp, every Warlord, every tribe, everything in his path…” he grabbed a handful of sand, closing his grip. “ He crushed them all and pulled their bones into his walls. Now, the whole Desert bends the knee.”

  Zamian absorbed the information. He had already known that the Sultan had unified the Desert, but from the way they talked, there was no hidden rage.

  Just some awe and fear.

  Paul tapped his knee. “The war ended a while ago, but people still talk about it like it’s fresh. The Sultan didn’t just conquer the Desert, no, he burned away any chance of rebellion. That’s why the Oasis thrives.”

  Zamian kept his voice even. “And after the Desert, it was time to conquer the Sanctuary?”

  Peter scoffed. “As if that damn tree would be enough for us. We are too many, no. Word is he wants something from your grassling fanatics.”

  Zamian narrowed his eyes slightly. “Something?”

  Paul shrugged. “Who knows? Could be resources, could be people, could be some holy nonsense. The Sultan doesn’t explain his reasons; he just commands.”

  Joshua exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you’ve been in the Sanctuary, right? I wasn’t part of the… group that went in. Is it true that it’s always day there? You see… there’s no day in the Desert. Just endless night.”

  Zamian already knew about the eternal night. He nodded and answered Joshua. “There are giant leaves that shine light over the Sanctuary, yes.”

  A moment of silence.

  Peter gestured toward him. “You’re smart to come with us willingly, Kurt. The Desert isn’t kind to loners. If the sand doesn’t swallow you, you’d wander until exhaustion, cold, or hunger finally took you.”

  Zamian smiled slightly, but didn’t respond.

  Time passed.

  For the next hour, the group continued their discussion in fragments, but mostly about nonsensical stuff, like Zamian’s favorite food and if he walked naked everywhere.

  They were stalling.

  He knew it, but didn’t let it show.

  Instead, he shifted his focus inward, monitoring his body. His wounds throbbed, his broken bones ached, and his essence held it all together.

  He gleaned at the corner of his vision, commanding the White Dot to show him his stats.

  PERSONAL INFORMATION

  Name: Zamian Greenfield

  Level: 4 [16%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Knowledge

  Title: Insightful

  STATS

  Body: 500/24000

  Mind: 9000/26000

  Soul: 4000/24000

  ‘10 body points per hour. And I didn’t spend even one percent of my remaining essence. Good.’

  Just as he was about to close his eyes and look inside his soul to assess the situation in there, he heard a sound.

  It was a shift in the wind.

  His instincts flared.

  Edmund’s eyes flicked toward the entrance.

  Joshua frowned. “What is it?”

  Paul and Peter's eyes widened.

  Then, the entire cave trembled.

  Sand exploded inward as a massive wooden halberd tore through the entrance, splitting the compacted sand like it was nothing.

  The outsiders reacted instantly.

  Earth’s essence flowed out from Paul’s hand, forming Bounded Spheres and shooting at the entrance.

  Peter and Joshua rolled away from the impact, while Edmund scrambled back, trying to form words.

  “Wait, that’s—!”

  But he was too slow.

  A thunderous laugh echoed through the cave.

  “Ohohoho!”

  The dust settled, revealing a towering figure at the entrance. Bloodied, battered, and missing an eye. His long white beard fluttered in the wind, while his bulky wooden armor covered most of his body, leaving only his feet, hands, and bald head exposed.

  The Warrior Chosen grinned, his grip tightening around the wooden halberd as his single remaining eye gleamed with a green hue.

  "Little lunatic!" he rumbled, his gaze locking onto Zamian in surprise.

  The Bonded Spheres struck him, but they didn’t so much as dent his armor, nor did they force him to budge. They simply crumbled, as if meeting an impenetrable wall.

  The Chosen’s focus remained solely on Zamian.

  "You're alive!" Marlos bellowed.

  Zamian didn’t flinch.

  Instead, staring at the bald man, he smiled.