The desert wind howled, carrying with it the sting of dust and the bitter reek of corruption. Each step sank into the scorching sand, leaving behind trails that the wind eagerly tried to erase. At the head of the small group marched Big Bull, his hulking frame unshaken by the weight of heat or silence. His heavy boots sank deep into the dunes, but his stride was steady, purposeful—like a beast that had chosen its prey.
Behind him, Eric's voice broke the silence, cautious yet steady.
"Are you sure this is the correct plan?"
Luca's hand twitched against the hilt at his side. His shoulders sagged with a sigh as his gaze shifted toward the woman walking with perfect composure beside him.
"Ask her, not me."
The Saintess did not flinch at the jab. Instead, she lifted her chin with a radiant pride that seemed to shine even against the gloom of the corrupted desert. Her lavender hair fluttered in the wind, her white robes unstained despite the sands.
