Before anyone could wake him, Erik was already up.
He pulled his cloak around himself and stepped away from the camp, walking slowly toward the shore. Behind him, the sun began to rise, its golden rays spilling across the surface of the sea like liquid fire. The fog that blanketed the beach the day before had cleared slightly, revealing more of the endless coastline.
"Time to prepare, Erik," Leena's voice said from behind.
She had appeared, as always, without a sound. Erik was used to it by now—but that didn't mean he liked it.
"…Okay," he replied, turning away from the ocean and heading back toward the camp.
Everyone was already busy packing up. Tents were being folded, saddlebags secured, weapons strapped tight. After gearing up, they returned to the horses waiting outside the cave.
Yosul adjusted his belt and climbed onto his mount. "Alright, everyone. Let's get that relic today."
The team rode in single file down the beach, the rhythmic crash of waves to their right and the looming black canyons to their left. The shore grew wider the farther they traveled, an expanse of sand stretching under the pale morning sky.
For six hours they rode, the scenery unchanging—black rock, grey sea, wind, and silence.
Suddenly, Yosul raised a hand, signaling everyone to halt.
Before them, the terrain dropped sharply into a massive depression in the ground.
"…What the hell is this?" Erik muttered.
Yosul studied the terrain for a long moment. "According to the map, the temple is located in the middle of where two Grand Canyons begin."
He gestured to the surrounding cliffs. "This looks like the place."
"It sure feels like it," the old man with the axe added, his brow furrowed.
They all dismounted, surveying the area. There was no sign of a temple. Just the deep hollow in front of them, a trench wide enough to swallow a castle. Seawater was slowly trickling into it from one side.
"…It's as if something picked up the temple—ground and all—and just walked off with it," Yosul said quietly.
"Captain," Leena called out, pointing. "There's something on the other side."
Erik stepped beside Yosul and squinted across the trench.
"So how exactly are we supposed to get over there?" he asked.
The depression cut across the entire landscape in front of them. The sea filled it slowly, inch by inch.
"I can create a bridge," the sorcerer offered, stepping forward.
"No," Yosul shook his head. "That would drain too much of your mana. We might need your strength later."
He turned to the old man with the axe and gave a single nod.
The old man returned it.
Without a word, he walked over to one of the horses, grabbed it by the body—and hurled it across the trench.
Erik's jaw dropped.
The horse landed on the other side with a heavy thud, upright and unharmed.
"Damn…" Erik whispered. "This guy's something else."
One after another, the old man tossed the horses across the trench, each landing with surprising precision. Then he turned toward Yosul, lifted him like he weighed nothing, and launched him across.
Yosul landed with a roll and stood up, brushing the sand off.
Then came the rest of the squad—tossed over one by one. Even Leena. Even Erik.
The sorcerer, instead, floated over using levitation magic, drifting across like a feather.
"…Okay," Erik muttered as he landed. "So we're all here. How's the old man gonna—"
He stopped mid-sentence as the old man took a running start and jumped.
No magic.
Just raw power.
He landed on their side with a solid thud, completely unbothered.
"Amazing…" Erik whispered.
"Um… guys?" Leena said.
"Hm? What is it?" Yosul asked.
She was staring at the ground.
"What exactly are we standing on?"
Everyone looked down.
The sand beneath their boots had curved edges—subtle at first, but unmistakable.
"Hey," one of the swordsmen called out from farther up. "There's a lot of these... ahead."
A long, eerie silence fell.
Then, Yosul spoke.
"…Guys. This is a footprint."
That wasn't the disturbing part.
The disturbing part was its size.
One single footprint was larger than the entire group standing together. Nine people could lie head-to-toe in it and still not fill the space.
"Captain…" one of the swordsmen said, voice uneasy. "What the hell could be this big?"
"I don't know," Yosul replied. "But whatever it is—it might've taken the temple."
"How does that even work?" Leena asked, her expression tense.
Yosul shrugged. "I don't know."
There was a pause.
"Whatever," he said, turning back to the trail of massive impressions stretching into the distance. "Something this big won't move fast. If we hurry, we might catch up to it."
He mounted his horse.
"Let's go."
The rest of the squad followed without hesitation.
Sand whipped around them as they chased the trail through the black shore—toward whatever force was powerful enough to tear a temple from the earth and walk away with it.