Everyone stared at Shane.
There was no trace of exhaustion on his face—no lingering tremor, no stiffness, no blood. If anything, he looked… refreshed like someone who had just woken up from a comfortable nap rather than crawled back from the edge of becoming a monster.
Klaus was the first to break the silence. He leaned on one leg, robe fluttering lightly in the warm desert wind, arms loosely crossed. "Welcome back," he said casually. "We thought we might have to eliminate you, too."
Shane turned his head slightly. "Have you tried?"
Klaus smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting. "I'd love to," he replied, tone light, "but unfortunately, my hands are full."
Ulon snorted loudly. "You're lucky you don't have limbs missing again."
Klaus ignored that.
Shane's gaze moved on. He scanned the group with the same calm focus he used before giving orders.
Maddy sat under the shade of a large rock, back straight but shoulders tense, arms folded tightly across her chest. She looked drained, eyes shadowed with worry she was trying very hard to hide.
Petra lay nearby, propped against stone, her black armor cracked and dented, a large hole exposing the bandaged skin beneath. Her face was pale, jaw set stubbornly despite the fatigue dragging at her eyes.
Shalotte stood a few steps away, brushing sand off his clothes, posture awkward and slightly hunched, as if he wanted to shrink into the ground after using his ultimate.
Kiel sat cross-legged in the shade, fiddling with something invisible, eyes darting everywhere like he was afraid the sand itself might attack him.
They all looked worn out.
Shane nodded once. "We'll stay here tonight."
Maddy's head snapped up. "Here?" she echoed sharply. "Are you serious, boss? After all that?"
"Yes," Shane replied simply.
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a massive bag, dropping it onto the sand with a dull thud.
"Two tents," he said. "one for the ladies, one for us."
He glanced at Kiel and Shalotte. "You two can set them up."
Kiel groaned immediately. "Why me?"
Before Shane could answer, Ulon clapped a hand on Kiel's back, hitting him hard enough to make him stumble forward.
"Because," Ulon said loudly, "you somehow still have energy, and your mouth hasn't stopped talking since the fight ended."
"I'm tired too!" Kiel protested. "Emotionally!"
Shalotte raised a hand halfway. "Um—boss?" He shifted his feet, stepped on a loose rock, and nearly tripped before flailing and catching himself. "Isn't it… dangerous to stay here?"
Shane followed his gaze to the sand wyrm's corpse. The massive body lay split, scales cracked and dulled, blood soaking deep into the dunes around it.
"I don't think so," Shane said. "Most beasts avoided this place even before."
He paused, then added, "We should also take the remaining scales."
Kiel stiffened.
His nose wrinkled as if the smell returned instantly. His hands twitched, fingers curling and uncurling.
"…Again?" he muttered.
Shane turned toward him. "Again?" His brow creased slightly. "Have you already extracted scales from the other one?"
Klaus lifted a finger lazily. "That was my doing. I asked him to collect all the scales in exchange for a weapon. I still ha—"
He stopped.
His eyes widened just a fraction.
"…Shoots," Klaus muttered. "I forgot something."
Without another word, he summoned a transparent panel and wandered off toward a quiet corner of the crater, tapping through menus like a man checking unpaid bills.
Ulon watched him go. "Every time he says that, something explodes later."
Shane didn't comment. Instead, he summoned Delle.
The small white rabbit appeared beside him, nose twitching rapidly as it adjusted to the scent-heavy air. Its red eyes lifted, then froze as it noticed the unfamiliar creature in Shane's arms.
Delle tilted its head.
Shane followed its gaze and nodded. "Delle, this is Cukuz. He'll be with us."
The rabbit made a soft sound—somewhere between a squeak and a hum—then hopped closer, sniffing the bat cautiously.
Cukuz sniffed back.
No hostility followed.
Shane smiled faintly. "Good boy." He paused, then added, "Are you hungry?"
Delle nodded eagerly.
"Good." Shane pointed toward the wyrm corpse. "You can eat that."
The rabbit froze.
Then hopped forward excitedly.
Shane crouched and placed a hand gently on Delle's head. "Viral Modification."
A glow enveloped the rabbit. Its white fur darkened into deep crimson, muscles tightening beneath it. A pair of sharp fangs slid into place, and its white eyes gleamed with feral hunger.
Without waiting, it leapt forward.
Mid-air, it split.
One became two. Two became four. Four became eight.
Soon, a small army of crimson rabbits swarmed the wyrm corpse, tearing into its flesh with disturbing enthusiasm.
Kiel gagged. "That's… horrifying."
Ulon squinted. "Efficient though. It would be easier for you to collect the scales after Delle deals with the corpse."
Cukuz stared, eyes wide with envy. He squeaked softly.
Shane noticed and pulled out a strip of salted beef from his storage. He handed it to the bat. "Here."
Cukuz's eyes sparkled. He took it eagerly and munched away, ears flicking happily.
Meanwhile, Klaus stood alone at the edge of the crater, panel hovering before him.
Sandstorm.
Flamethrower.
Dragon's Blood.
Primal Roar.
He skimmed through the descriptions, his eyes narrowing as he weighed each option in silence, except for the Primal Roar, which he already had.
Sandstorm (Basic Skill) — a terraforming skill that summons a violent storm of dust and sand over a designated area. Its range and intensity scale with the skill's level.
Flamethrower (Basic Skill) — converts carbon dioxide from the caster's lungs into a volatile, pyrophoric substance, igniting into a burst of flame the moment it meets open air.
Dragon's Blood (Special Basic Skill) — Wyrms are considered dragonkin, creatures steeped in magic and near-invulnerability. The user will be granted the blood of the dragons. Giving the user permanent health and mana regeneration, with the recovery rate increasing as the skill levels up.
Each one was tempting.
Sandstorm, especially, caught his interest. Combined with Eye of the Forsaken and echolocation, it would turn the battlefield into his domain—blinding enemies while letting him see perfectly through the chaos. Control, reach, and pressure. It was a frighteningly good combination.
He was just about to confirm it when a sharp, stabbing pain pierced his chest.
Klaus stiffened, breath hitching as his fingers curled into the fabric over his heart. He didn't need a reminder of what that meant.
The curse egg.
Still there. Still feeding. Still killing him, slowly.
He exhaled through his nose and shook his head faintly. "You'd better be useful once you hatch," he muttered.
With a quiet sigh, he changed his selection.
Sandstorm would have to wait.
Until he could find another sand wyrm.
He tapped Dragon's Blood instead. Permanent health and mana regeneration would keep his body stable, and more importantly, it would let him feed the parasite inside without risking his health dropping to zero while he slept.
He maxed out the skill level to ten, then dismissed the panel.
The panel dimmed, and Klaus leaned back, already feeling the faint, steady warmth spreading through his veins.
"Fifty health and ten mana per second," he murmured. "Not bad."
"Are you done?" Ulon called.
Klaus dismissed the panel and turned. "Yeah."
"Boss wants us."
Klaus walked back toward the group.