Time turned, stars shifted.Days and nights cycled.
The sea rose and fell. The wind blew and paused.Light and shadow danced like tides in the sky, life scurried on the ground like ants.
Two thousand years passed in the blink of an eye.
The sun scorched the earth mercilessly. Hot winds screamed across the desert, sand stinging exposed skin with sharp bites.
A group of people struggled forward on camels, their mounts kicking up clouds of sand. Behind them, dozens of riders wielded curved blades, shouting in a chaotic mix of languages.
Soon, the fleeing group was surrounded. There were only eight of them, trapped in the center.
"What do you want?"
A tall man in a white robe dismounted his camel and stepped forward, speaking the same words that had echoed through the desert for generations.
His face was wrapped in a sand scarf, leaving only bloodshot eyes exposed.
No one answered. A figure in black linen stepped leisurely from his camel, the motion calm, as if he were taking a stroll.
He bent slightly and motioned with his gray-gloved hand, inviting the white-robed man closer.
The white-robed man obeyed. The moment he stepped forward, a spray of blood shot into the sky!
Clutching his neck, the man gasped, blood soaking his robe. He tried to speak, but only coughed up more blood before collapsing. A few spasms later, he was gone.
The remaining captives screamed, huddling closer, shivering in the center of the circle.
"Alright. Hand over all your belongings. I hope your possessions are worth our effort. If not... you'll have plenty of time to repent in the underworld."
The man in black wiped his blood-stained blade on his sleeve and sheathed it.
The captives understood. They were facing the so-called guardians of this desert—the Lizard Lord's band, the largest pirate gang in the sands.
Paid by officials, but thieves at heart, their reputation was infamous. Even their notoriety had its advantages.
Realizing who they were up against, the captives piled up all their valuables.
The black-robed leader circled the pile atop his camel, examining it carefully, then nodded in satisfaction.
Suddenly, one of the pirates noticed something. He yanked off the headscarf of one captive—a young woman—and long black hair spilled down like a waterfall, glinting like polished mirrors under the blazing sun.
"Look what I found!" the pirate shouted, ignoring her terrified scream.
Soon, the gang gathered around, laughing.
"Take her," the leader said calmly.
"What are you doing? You can't do this!" the woman screamed, but her struggles were symbolic at best. A few pirates threw her onto a camel with ease.
She knew well—resisting them here was suicide.
"Sir, we've handed over everything. Please, don't—"
Slash! Another precise strike. A pirate slit the throat of the man speaking, spraying blood across his body.
The remaining captives were paralyzed with fear, staring as their companion twitched on the sand.
The black-robed man pointed at the woman. "Don't make me repeat myself. Treat her like one of your valuables. Keeping her hidden is theft in my eyes."
He nudged his camel forward. "You—load the goods onto the camels and take them. You—lead the remaining mounts." He gestured to the captives' camels.
"You can't take the camels! Leaving us here in the desert without them is worse than death!" one of the captives shouted.
The leader smirked. "True. That would be worse than death. So I'll show mercy—by killing you first."
Blades flashed. Camels surged forward.
"No! I'm an officer of the Duchy of Domo!" a man in blue robes screamed.
But screams were meaningless. Blood spattered the scorching sand.
"Where did he say he's from?" the black-robed man asked, pointing at the corpse.
"Don't know. Doesn't matter."
In this barren desert, the pirates ruled. Even emperors wouldn't appear here.
Soon, all captives were killed except the woman. Blood soaked the sand over dozens of square meters.
Laughing and singing vulgar songs, the pirates loaded the loot onto camels. To them, it was no different from a farmer harvesting rice—pure joy in abundance.
Suddenly, a cold wind swept through. Every pirate shivered.
In the desert, cold winds were rare—especially during the day.
The black-robed man looked up. The sky had darkened. Thick clouds rumbled, lightning streaked across, the heavens roaring like a beast.
"Whoa! Rain!" one pirate cheered.
The leader dipped a finger in his mouth, letting the wind test it.
"Let's head back. This weather feels wrong. Don't get caught in the storm."
They rode north, humming and laughing, unaware of what was happening beneath them.
On the ground, sand greedily drank the spilled blood. The thickly wrapped corpses began to shrink visibly, almost as if consumed by some invisible force.
The sky stayed dark, with lightning and thunder, yet no rain fell.
Night came.
Vultures circled over the corpses, pecking cautiously.
At the center, the sand began to swell, faint cracks forming around it.
Boom!
A small mound exploded. A hand shot up, skeletal and dry, trembling as it pushed against the sand.
Slowly, a mummified figure emerged.
Bald head. Left eyeball nearly dislodged, right eye equally ruined. Skin charred from friction, clothing long gone. Muscles, bones, veins, teeth all exposed, shriveled and blackened.
A gaping wound pierced the chest, but only a trickle of blood remained.
Lightning flashed. A terrifying white light illuminated his body, casting a monstrous shadow.
Adam lifted his gaze to the roaring sky, then looked down at the corpses. White mist drifted from between his exposed teeth.
"Irin…"
He remembered the black figure that had flown toward Earth.
"Uriel!"
Another flash of white lightning. His terrifying face appeared in the glow.