Chapter 74 – The Sands of Awakening
Morning came pale and breathless.
The City of Sands lay under a haze of gold, the streets quiet except for the distant clatter of vendors rolling open their stalls.
John sat by the window of his room, elbows on the sill, watching the light spill over the dunes beyond the city walls. He hadn't slept much. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw violet fire. The memory of last night—the screams, the sigils, the smell of burning flesh—still burned behind his eyelids.
Ember rested beside him on the windowsill, his fur faintly aglow. The creature stirred only when John reached out and absently rubbed the space between ears. "Theres a lot of things happening in this city. It seems like darkness follows me wherever i go," John muttered.
There was a soft knock at the door.
A courier stood outside—a young boy in a sleeveless Guild vest, dust clinging to his boots. He bowed awkwardly and held out a letter sealed with the Mercenary Guild's red insignia.
"Message for Master Caster," he said.
John broke the seal. The wax cracked under his thumb.
Mission Confirmation: Northern Pyramid Sweep.
Client: Mercenary Association of the City of Sands.
Objective: Eliminate residual undead and within the structure known as Hethar-Ka's Tomb.
Rank: E-Tier step 4 and 5 monsters.
Team Approval: Granted.
John exhaled through his nose. The Pyramid job… already approved.
"Thanks, kid," he said. The boy bowed and ran off.
Ember chirped once, tail flicking.
John folded the parchment neatly, slid it into his coat pocket, and went downstairs.
The dining hall smelled like coffee and buttered flatbread.
Vulgrat was already seated, hair a mess, stirring something thick and green into a cup. Blake sat beside him, halfway through his second plate. Tamara leaned against the window, her armor only half-buckled, the early light painting her hair bronze.
"Morning," John said, dropping into his seat.
Blake grinned. "You look like you wrestled a sandstorm and lost."
"Didn't sleep much."
"Were you up late doing alchemy?"
John didn't answer. He reached for the bread instead.
Vulgrat cleared his throat. "We got our assignment, didn't we?"
John nodded. "Letter came this morning. The Northern Pyramid."
"Finally," Blake said. "Something fun to do for once."
Tamara gave him a look. "You say that every time, right before something tries to eat you."
"That's how you know it's real adventure."
John smiled faintly, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. The night before still pressed behind his eyes, heavy as sand.
Lysa arrived last, walking in with a too-bright smile and a steaming mug. "What did I miss?"
"Just the usual," Blake said. "Death, despair, money."
She laughed, sliding into the seat opposite John. "Ah. So it's a normal day."
John watched her for a moment longer than necessary. Something about her laughter felt… off. Too rehearsed.
"Finish up," he said finally. "We leave in an hour."
The desert stretched endless and merciless, a sea of gold broken only by the jagged spines of black rock.
By midday, the sun was a hammer overhead. The J-Crew moved across the dunes in a long, patient line—John in front, Tamara just behind him, Blake and Vulgrat carrying the packs, and Lisa trailing slightly, her hood pulled low against the glare. Ember sat perched on John's shoulder, fur ruffling in the wind, tiny sparks glinting from his tailtip.
They'd been walking for hours when Blake broke the silence. "So… what really happened last night? You never said."
John glanced back, then forward again. "It was nothing worth repeating."
Tamara frowned slightly. "That's not true. People died, John."
He sighed. "Yeah. But until I know what it means, it's just noise."
Still, he found himself speaking—quietly, almost despite himself. "There was a sigil. A teleportation circle. The kind that eats people to fuel itself."
Tamara's jaw tightened. Blake whistled low. "That's… worse than I expected."
Lysa had been walking a few paces behind, but now her shadow edged closer, footsteps slowing as if to hear better.
John noticed. His voice cut off mid-sentence.
Blake blinked. "What?"
"Later," John said curtly.
He slowed until Lysa matched his pace again, then gave her a neutral look. She smiled, too quick, and pretended to adjust her canteen strap.
Tamara caught the exchange, eyes narrowing slightly.
The group moved on in silence. The only sound was the crunch of boots in sand and the hiss of wind shifting the dunes.
By late afternoon, the heat began to fade, replaced by the copper glow of evening.
Ahead, the dunes sloped downward into a wide valley littered with half-buried ruins—pillars broken like teeth, statues of faceless gods worn smooth by centuries of wind.
At the center of it all rose the Pyramid of Hethar-Ka.
It dominated the horizon, rising from the sands like a mountain carved from gold and obsidian. Its sides gleamed with unnatural precision, every block humming faintly with trapped essence. Lines of black crystal cut across the surface like veins, pulsing faintly—as if the whole structure had a heartbeat.
John stopped at the ridge and stared.
Blake whistled under his breath. "Lights…"
Tamara's voice came quieter. "It's bigger than I imagined."
Vulgrat shaded his eyes. "That glow—there's light surrounding it."
John nodded slowly. "It's alive. The whole pyramid is radiating essence."
The wind picked up, whispering through the ruins. For a moment, the air almost carried voices—chanting, distant and low, like echoes through stone corridors. Ember hissed, fur rising along his spine.
"This place feels wrong," Tamara murmured.
"Wrong is what we get paid for," Blake muttered.
John didn't answer. His gaze had caught something—movement near the pyramid's base, where broken stairways led to a collapsed entrance.
A shape. Massive. Moving.
The sand trembled.
At first it was only a shiver, a ripple spreading outward. Then the ground heaved.
A low rumble rolled through the valley as a mound of sand bulged upward and cracked apart. Something beneath was forcing its way free—something vast.
Blake stumbled back. "Uh… tell me that's not what I think it is."
Sand exploded outward.
From beneath, a colossal shell rose—a slab of sandstone fused with shards of obsidian, carved in the shape of a miniature pyramid. Beneath it, thick reptilian legs pushed free, each ending in claws the size of shields. The creature's head followed, blunt and scaled, eyes glowing molten gold.
A Desert Tyr-Tortuga—a Step Five beast.
Its shell shimmered with runic lines, ancient glyphs pulsing faintly along the pyramid on its back. Every exhale sent gusts of hot wind spiraling across the sand.
The thing turned its gaze toward them, slow and deliberate. The air thickened under its presence. Essence pressure rolled off its body in waves.
"Step Five," Vulgrat whispered.
"Fantastic," Blake said. "I was worried we'd get bored."
Tamara's blades slid free with a rasp. "We're not taking that head-on without a plan."
John's eyes narrowed. "It's guarding the entrance. We won't get inside unless we move it."
The Tortuga's massive head dipped low, nostrils flaring. Then it roared.
The sound was a physical force—sand leapt from the ground, the dunes shuddered, and the sky itself seemed to vibrate.
Blake barely managed to throw up a barrier of condensed essence before the shockwave hit, sending the group sprawling backward. Ember screeched, wings flaring into flame as he launched into the air.
"Fall back!" John shouted.
They scattered, sand spraying around them. The Tortuga slammed a claw the size of a wagon into the ground, crushing stone and sending another quake through the valley.
Tamara dashed to John's side, blades flashing. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
He glanced at her, a small grin ghosting across his mouth. "That I gotta handle this guy?"
"No."
The Tortuga's eyes locked on them. With surprising speed, it lunged—massive jaws opening, teeth glinting like stone spears.
John raised a hand. Essence flared around him, golden-crimson light twisting like fire caught in wind.
Alaric's voice echoed in his mind, calm, cold, focused.
"Steady your core. Let it breathe with you. That thing is strong for a step 5."
John exhaled, feeling the world narrow to a single moment.
He stepped forward, palm lifting. Flames roared to life, wrapping his arm in a spiral of light.
The Tortuga struck—its jaw descending.
John met it with a blast of burning force.
The collision cracked the air. Fire and sand erupted together, forming a blinding cloud that lit the valley in amber. The beast reeled back, smoke trailing from its snout.
Blake whooped from somewhere behind. "That's what I'm talking about!"
Tamara didn't look away. "You can handle it?"
John's gaze never left the creature. "We'll find out."
The Tortuga growled, deep and thunderous. Its shell glowed brighter, ancient runes igniting across the stone. Each symbol pulsed once—twice—and then its body began to shimmer with heat.
Vulgrat's voice shouted from behind, panicked. "It's charging essence! It's about to blast us!"
"Meaning?" Blake yelled.
"Meaning duck!"
The creature released its built-up energy in a single breath. The world went white.
The explosion carved a crater through the sand, heat turning the air liquid. John threw his arm up, shield of essence forming just in time. Ember swooped in, wings blazing, deflecting a rain of molten shards.
When the light cleared, the beast still stood—smoldering, panting, furious.
Tamara's cloak whipped in the wind. "That thing's not going down easy."
John rolled his shoulders, eyes narrowing. "Then let's get to work."
The ground around him began to glow as he drew in his energy. Step Five Light swirled in his veins, bright and hungry. Ember's flames pulsed in sync with his heartbeat, their glow reflecting off the pyramid's ancient surface.
From somewhere deep within, Alaric's voice came again, quieter this time.
"Let's see if you've truly earned Step Five."
John's lips curved into a thin, fierce smile.
The Desert Tyr-Tortuga lifted its head, bellowing once more, the sound shaking the ruins around them.
John took a single step forward. The sand beneath his feet turned to glass.
The battle for the gate of Hethar-Ka had begun.