Vale scrambled onto the wyvern's rocky back, his fingers scraping against jagged stone as he hauled himself up in a frantic rush. Behind them, the desert exploded into motion, a roaring wall of sand surging forward like a living storm, devouring dunes whole as it closed the distance with terrifying speed.
Vale twisted around and thrust out a hand.
"Drago, now!"
Drago caught it without hesitation. Vale braced his feet against the wyvern's armored spine and pulled with everything he had, muscles burning as he dragged the older man up onto the creature's back. The wyvern let out a low, panicked rumble, glancing over its shoulder at the approaching storm before breaking into a full sprint.
Eskar was already moving. He leapt from the rocks below, boots slamming into the wyvern's side as he used the uneven terrain to propel himself upward. Vale barely had time to react.
"Eskar, catch!" Vale shouted over the howling wind.
He hurled his spear backward.
Eskar snatched it out of the air mid-stride, barely breaking momentum as he climbed up after them. Seconds later, all three of them were clinging to the wyvern's back as it thundered across the sand.
The creature was impossibly fast.
Vale hadn't expected it, its massive frame, the sheer weight of its stone-like armor, the way it was clearly adapted for moving beneath the sand rather than across it. And yet, it ran like a living cataclysm, each stride sending shockwaves through the desert as dunes collapsed beneath its feet.
Vale and Eskar dug their fingers into the jagged scales, bodies pressed low as the wind tore past them. Sand lashed at their armor, stinging exposed skin, threatening to rip them free.
Drago twisted around, his eyes fixed on the approaching dust cloud. For the first time since Vale had met him, his expression wasn't calm, it was tight, uneasy.
Vale crawled closer, shouting over the gale.
"Hey, old man!"
Drago turned his head just enough to hear him.
"Can we outrun it?!"
Drago clenched his jaw. He stared at Vale for a heartbeat, then shook his head.
"No," he said flatly. "But at this speed, we'll reach the temple in twenty minutes. If we make it there, we'll be safe. Even monarchs fear the High Priestess."
Relief flickered through Vale's chest, but it didn't last.
He looked back.
The storm behind them was enormous now, hundreds of meters wide, a rolling apocalypse that chewed through the dunes as if they were nothing more than loose ash. It wasn't just sand, it was pressure, weight, intent. The desert itself seemed to be fleeing before it.
Vale turned forward again, squinting through the tearing wind. Ahead, barely visible through the haze, a massive rock formation rose from the sands, ancient, unnatural in its geometry.
The temple.
They were close. Close enough to hope.
Vale gritted his teeth and shouted again.
"Is it faster than us?!"
Drago didn't hesitate this time.
"Yes."
The wyvern surged up the face of a towering dune, claws digging deep as it climbed, then launched itself over the crest. For a brief, stomach-lurching moment, they were airborne.
Then they dropped.
The wyvern hit the sand in a controlled crash, never losing momentum as it tore down the slope like a falling meteor, sand erupting behind it in a golden explosion. Vale held on with everything he had, his metal fingers locking into stone scales as his armored arm screamed under the strain.
He crawled forward despite the wind, inch by inch, climbing up the wyvern's neck as it barreled onward.
Minutes passed as if they were hours.
Vale risked another glance behind them.
The sand behind the last dune split apart.
A colossal shape burst through it with terrifying ease, hurling tons of sand into the air as if it were weightless. Long, black mandibles snapped together once, ''click'' and the sound carried even over the storm.
Then it roared.
Vale's blood ran cold.
The monarch rose fully into view.
It was massive, easily twenty, maybe thirty meters tall, its true length impossible to judge as its body flowed beneath the sand like a living continent. Its carapace was obsidian-black, thick and layered, each segment overlapping the next like plates of forged armor.
This wasn't just a predator.
This was a walking extinction event.
'So this is what they grow into.'
No wonder the young centipedes had charged without fear. No wonder they'd thrown themselves at prey without hesitation.
If this was their future, then recklessness made sense.
The monarch's underbelly was fully armored, its only apparent weakness long since erased by growth and evolution. Six massive mandibles framed its head, one of them broken, jagged and scarred, likely from some ancient battle that had failed to kill it.
Six enormous eyes glowed beneath its armored brow.
All of them were locked on Vale.
It surged forward, tearing through the dune they had just crossed, closing the distance faster than thought.
Vale slowly turned his head toward Drago, a hollow, desperate smile creeping across his face as the truth settled in.
"We're going to die," he said quietly.
"Aren't we?"
Vale stared as the centipede unleashed a thunderous roar, a sound so deep and violent that the desert itself seemed to recoil. The dunes trembled, sand rippling outward in visible waves as though the land were made of water instead of stone.
The creature's countless obsidian legs, each shaped like a jagged spear or blade, drove it forward at impossible speed, tearing through the desert as if the sand offered no resistance at all. Every movement was purposeful, predatory, intended to reach.
Something inside Vale cracked.
This wasn't fear anymore.
It was the quiet, suffocating certainty that there was no path left, no clever trick, no desperate burst of speed that could save them.
Then a hand closed around his shoulder.
Vale flinched and turned.
Eskar stood beside him, gripping the wyvern's scales with one hand, his expression battered but unbroken. Sand lashed at his face, the wind howled around them, and yet his eyes were steady, clear in a way that bordered on stubborn hope.
"I know it looks desperate," Eskar said, his voice raised but calm as the desert roared beneath them.
Vale followed Eskar's gaze to Drago, who sat at the back of the wyvern as if the world weren't collapsing around them. The old man watched the approaching monarch in silence, his posture composed, his eyes sharp and unreadable.
"But you know what he'd say," Eskar continued, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Vale snorted despite himself, breathless laughter escaping his chest.
"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "I do."
Eskar's smile widened just a little.
"He'd probably say something like"
The sand thundered beneath them.
"we have a monarch of our own."
For a heartbeat, hope sparked in Vale's chest.
Then the centipede vanished.
It plunged beneath the sand in an instant, its massive form disappearing as though the desert had swallowed it whole. The roaring cloud of dust collapsed inward, leaving only disturbed dunes in its wake.
Vale's eyes widened.
"…Did it give up?" he muttered, disbelief creeping into his voice.
The answer to that question came immediately.
The sand ahead of them exploded.
The centipede burst upward in a violent eruption, launching its colossal body into the air. Tons of sand cascaded off its armored form as it twisted mid-leap, mandibles spread wide, six burning eyes fixed on its prey.
It hadn't retreated.
It had pounced.
It was going to land on them.
Time slowed.
Vale felt his heart slam against his ribs as the shadow of the monarch fell over them, blotting out the moon. He could see the jagged scars in its armor, the fractured mandible, the countless blades that made up its body.
This was the moment it would end.
But then,
The desert split again.
Not behind them.
Beside them.
A second presence erupted from the sand with cataclysmic force, the ground tearing apart as something massive burst free in a storm of fire and dust.
Vale didn't look away from the centipede.
But he didn't need to.
The impact told him everything.
A thunderous collision shook the air as a crimson blur slammed into the centipede at unimaginable speed, driving it straight into the ground. The shockwave sent sand flying in every direction, the force so great it knocked the breath from Vale's lungs.
A roar followed.
A roar that carried authority.
Vale's gaze snapped to the side.
The Bloodscale had arrived.
The First Monarch stood between them and death.
It was enormous, vast beyond reason. Two massive wings unfurled behind it, blotting out the stars, while four muscular legs dug into the sand with such force that the ground cracked beneath them. Its body was built for domination, every line of its form shaped for power rather than grace.
Two colossal horns curved skyward from its skull, as though it challenged the heavens themselves.
Its scales gleamed crimson, as if bathed in fresh blood, catching the moonlight and reflecting it back in molten hues.
The Bloodscale roared again, the sound distorting the air around it like heat over stone.
It lunged forward, jaws snapping shut around the centipede's mandibles. Blade-like teeth bit deep, refusing to release as the dragon lifted the monarch's massive body off the ground.
For a brief, impossible instant, the centipede hung in the air.
Then the Bloodscale hurled it.
The centipede crashed into the desert dozens of meters away, plowing a trench through the sand before skidding to a halt. The Bloodscale followed with a thunderous step, its wings flaring wide as it placed itself squarely between the centipede and the others.
It roared again, this time not in challenge, but in declaration.
The centipede recovered quickly, rising from the sand with a furious screech. It stared at the Bloodscale, six eyes burning with rage, mandibles clicking as it prepared to fight.
Two monarchs faced one another.
Neither willing to yield.