The heat returned with a vengeance.
By the time Unit 9 was called out again, the sun had turned cruel, branding the desert floor with waves of shimmering light. The camp buzzed with whispers of what happened at the ruins. Some said a demon had awakened. Others claimed a divine sword had been drawn.
Ashen walked in silence through it all. His blade—no longer rusted, no longer dull—now shimmered faintly when unsheathed. He kept it hidden, but rumors moved faster than soldiers.
Even within Unit 9, things had changed.
Reynor had started watching him.
Not openly. Not yet. But Ashen could feel it. Every time he moved. Every time he spoke. Every time the light caught the hilt of his sword just right. Reynor's gaze lingered.
Their next assignment was part of a survival drill. Real conditions. Limited supplies. Remote desert sector. Each unit would pass through a temporary gate and reappear at another outpost, their performance judged along the way.
"Treat it as if you'll die," barked Lieutenant Grey. "Because some of you will, if you're not smart. This isn't a test of power. It's a test of restraint."
They assembled at the transport field, where a shimmering gate stood pulsing. It was tall as a building, anchored by black steel and humming with essence energy.
"Once you enter," said the field captain, "you'll be on your own. 72 hours. Complete the route. Avoid anomalies. Do not engage unless you must."
Ashen stood beside Elira, who wore a calm expression but fidgeted slightly.
Kerr bounced on his toes. "This'll be fun! Like camping."
Lin elbowed him. "Except with monsters and starvation."
Sera stood silent, arms crossed. Her gaze flicked briefly toward Ashen, unreadable.
Reynor gave a cold smirk. "Try to keep up, peasant."
Ashen didn't reply.
The gate flared, and Unit 9 stepped through.
—
They emerged into hell.
The sun beat down with punishing force. The desert here was cracked and windless, its dunes like waves frozen in mid-storm. The sky was a bleeding orange, painted with slashes of dry clouds.
Ashen immediately noticed the sand beneath their boots was finer than normal—like powdered glass.
Kerr whistled. "Now this… this is proper desert."
Lin squinted at the horizon. "Which way do we even go?"
Sera produced a brass compass, enchanted with essence runes. "Northwest. There should be a beacon every ten kilometers."
Elira pointed to the ridge. "We start by crossing that. Then two more dunes, a salt basin, and a dried riverbed. That should get us close to the halfway marker."
They moved.
Hours passed.
The silence of the desert was maddening. No birds. No wind. Just the crunch of boots and the occasional cough. The sun didn't just burn skin—it gnawed at the spirit.
Ashen kept pace near the middle. He felt… watched.
He glanced behind once.
Reynor met his gaze. Not a word. Just a stare.
—
They made camp at nightfall behind a shattered rock formation. Kerr lit a small, smokeless fire using essence stones. Lin passed out dry rations. Sera set the perimeter.
Reynor sat across from Ashen.
And finally spoke.
"What's your secret?"
Ashen didn't look up.
Reynor's voice was low. "You think I didn't notice? You were last on the weapon board. A ghost with a rusted sword. And then suddenly…"
Ashen still said nothing.
Reynor leaned in. "You moved like a veteran. Like a killer. That beast at the ruins? We both saw it. You didn't hesitate. You knew what to do."
Elira spoke sharply. "Drop it, Reynor."
Reynor didn't move. "He's hiding something. I don't care what sob story he spins. That sword—"
Ashen stood.
Reynor's hand twitched toward his weapon.
Ashen's voice was soft. "You want to fight?"
Sera moved between them. "Enough."
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then Lin yawned, breaking the tension. "Save the drama for when we're not dying of dehydration, okay?"
Kerr laughed nervously. "Seconded."
Ashen walked away from the camp circle, sitting with his back to the rocks.
The stars above looked like they were falling, streaks of silver across the black sky.
He closed his eyes.
And the sword whispered again.
You're not ready.
—
The second day began with wind.
Not the warm gusts of a coastal breeze, but sharp, dry wind that bit like sandpaper. It came with no warning, swirling into the basin where they had made camp.
They packed fast, wrapping cloth over their mouths and tightening goggles. Visibility dropped.
Elira led the way, compass in hand. Kerr and Lin stuck close, shouting jokes that no one heard.
Ashen walked beside Sera. She didn't speak, but she watched him often.
"Why do you keep looking at me?" Ashen finally asked.
She shrugged. "You remind me of someone I buried."
Ashen blinked. "What?"
She smirked. "Relax. Not literally. Just… the same eyes. Same quiet."
He said nothing.
She added, "It's not a bad thing."
They reached the edge of a large salt basin. Flat, glimmering white. A perfect mirror. Ashen stepped onto it.
And paused.
It wasn't reflecting the sky.
It reflected something else.
He looked down.
And saw himself standing amid ruins. Holding a different sword. Surrounded by fire.
The others stepped in behind him. They didn't notice.
But the moment Reynor stepped onto the basin, the illusion changed.
The ground cracked.
And from the salt rose the centipede.
No. Worse.
This one was double the size.
Translucent shell. Bladed legs. Its face a mockery of a human's. Its scream ripped the salt in half.
Kerr shouted. "Not again—!"
Sera drew her blade. "We can't outrun this one!"
Elira shouted. "Form up! Protect the non-combatants!"
Reynor charged it.
Ashen cursed and ran after him.
—
The battle was chaos.
Reynor was fast, powerful—he danced across the centipede's back, striking with precision. But his weapon glanced off its shell.
Ashen saw it coming before Reynor did.
The centipede's tail whipped.
Reynor turned too late.
Ashen moved.
In a blur, he crossed the distance.
Caught the tail.
His blade gleamed with silver light.
And carved a wide arc.
The tail dropped to the salt with a scream.
Reynor hit the ground, stunned.
Ashen pulled him back as the centipede reeled.
"You're welcome," Ashen muttered.
Reynor stared at him. His eyes burned with shame.
The others fought from afar—Kerr hurled knives, Lin cast smoke illusions, Elira directed attacks.
Ashen ran forward.
The centipede reared up.
He leapt.
And with one clean motion, buried his sword through its head.
—
The beast fell.
The ground trembled.
And then… silence.
Everyone stood in awe.
Even Sera looked stunned.
Reynor rose slowly, brushing salt from his clothes.
He didn't look at Ashen.
Didn't thank him.
Just whispered, "You're lying to us."
Ashen didn't reply.
Because the worst part was—
He didn't know if Reynor was wrong.
—
They moved again, wounded and wary. The gate out shimmered in the distance.
Kerr limped, supported by Lin. Sera had a deep gash across her arm. Elira's left shoulder was burned.
Ashen bore bruises. His blade, once again, had gone quiet.
They passed through the exit gate, limping and bloodied.
The drill was over.
But the real test had only just begun.