The four outsiders tensed, hands already moving to summon Earth’s essence, but Marlos simply chuckled, resting his halberd against his shoulder.
“Ohohoho,” the Warrior Chosen rumbled, stepping into the cave with a strong step. “Let’s not do anything stupid, little ones.”
Edmund moved his hands, but not to conjure a technique. He was sending a signal to his companions.
He barely had time to react.
The wind howled as Marlos raised his wooden halberd, his movements almost lazy. Then, with nothing but a flick of his wrist, the weapon whistled through the air.
A loud crack echoed in the cave.
Edmund screamed as his legs twisted unnaturally beneath him, bones shattered before the weapon even touched him. He collapsed onto the sand, writhing in agony, his voice barely escaping between gasps of pain.
The other three didn’t move.
Zamian, still leaning against the rough sand wall, watched in silence. He wasn’t surprised by the outcome. From the moment Marlos appeared, he knew resistance was pointless for them.
The Warrior Chosen wasn’t a man easily fought.
Marlos rolled his shoulder, glancing at the squirming Edmund. “Tch. I didn’t even touch him. You lot are softer than the last time I was here.”
Zamian narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been here before?”
Marlos shot him a grin. “You think you’re the only one who gets around, little lunatic?”
Zamian exhaled through his nose, pushing past the lingering pain in his chest. “How did you find me?”
Marlos tapped the side of his head. “Felt the earth tremble. Heard something explode. I had to check.” His smirk widened. “The little ones didn’t feel it, but I knew it meant trouble.”
Zamian frowned. “Which little ones?”
“Your friends,” Marlos said, nodding toward the entrance. “Ran into them after my fight with the Lord’s Chosen.”
The words made Zamian’s heart clench. “Tulip… Bohlo… Uncle Soho?”
Marlos nodded. “I guess that’s how they are called. And the bearded outsider, though I still don’t remember his name.” He let out a gruff laugh. “Blonde girl was quieter than usual. The old man—Soho, right?—was being carried by that monkey-looking friend of yours.”
Zamian’s fingers twitched.
His last moment with Tulip hadn’t been ideal. He knew that. He had hurt her, but not because he wanted to. He had done what was necessary to protect her, to protect all of them.
But it didn’t mean he didn’t regret it.
Still, even with those emotions churning inside him, he knew he couldn’t turn back now. He needed to get to the Oasis. Not just to complete the White Dot’s quest, but because it was part of his plan.
He needed to meet the Sultan.
Marlos stretched, then glanced down at the outsiders, who were still frozen in place. “What are we doing with these ones?”
Zamian ran his tongue over his teeth, considering.
“They’re coming with us.”
Marlos raised an eyebrow. “Prisoners?”
Zamian nodded.
Paul tensed. “You think we’ll just—”
Marlos didn’t even let him finish.
With another flick of his halberd, the air itself seemed to bend. The pressure alone sent Paul, Joshua, and Peter stumbling back, their bodies slamming against the cave walls.
“I was asking the little lunatic’s opinions, not yours,” Marlos said simply, his tone colder than usual.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
The three outsiders coughed, wincing as the force dissipated. Even Edmund, despite his shattered legs, gritted his teeth in frustration.
Zamian stepped forward, ignoring the tension hanging in the air. “Marlos.”
The Warrior Chosen turned to him, brow raised.
“You were the one who caused the Camp of Salvation to crumble, weren’t you?”
The question was met with silence.
For a long moment, Marlos just looked at him, his usual mirth dimmed. His remaining eye darkened.
Then, he gave a slow nod.
“I had no choice,” he said.
Zamian’s jaw tightened. “Why?”
Marlos’ smile returned, but it wasn’t as wide as before. “It was necessary for our survival.”
There was something else in his tone.
Zamian didn’t push.
Instead, he let the words settle, turning back toward the cave entrance. “Let’s move.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They walked for three hours.
Marlos, now having four outsiders and Zamian at his side, couldn’t move at his usual breakneck pace, which meant they had to slow down.
Zamian kept his thoughts in order as they traveled. He had too much to process, too many unanswered questions.
His body burned with exhaustion, his wounds constantly throbbing, but he kept his steps steady. His Nameless Physique along his Light’s essence ensured he wouldn’t collapse, even as his body points drained little by little.
The outsiders, despite being prisoners, didn’t resist. They were too aware of the difference in power. Paul’s glare remained sharp, but Joshua, Peter, and even Edmund kept their heads down, the last one being carried by two of his companions.
Marlos, for his part, was oddly quiet. He didn’t press Zamian for answers about his condition, though the questions were undoubtedly there.
Zamian wasn’t planning to answer in front of the outsiders anyway.
Instead, he shifted his focus elsewhere. “How did you find the entrance?”
Marlos smirked. “What, you think I just stumbled onto it?”
Zamian raised an eyebrow.
The Warrior Chosen let out a low chuckle, adjusting the halberd on his shoulder. “Like I said, little lunatic, I’ve been in the Desert before.”
Zamian frowned, shooting the bigger man a curious gaze.
Marlos exhaled through his nose, tilting his head toward the horizon. “Before I became a Chosen, before the Sanctuary, before all that nonsense…I wandered.” His gaze flicked toward the shifting dunes. “Ohohoho. The Desert wasn’t unified back then. Camps were at each other’s throats, bandits everywhere, Warlords playing their little games. Even then, the Oasis stood apart. A place built through generations, not just another camp ready to be burned down.”
Zamian absorbed that information. Because of some clues, he had always assumed Marlos wasn’t originally from the Sanctuary, but this confirmed it. The Warrior Chosen had lived outside the God’s Tree.
“I knew the signs,” Marlos continued. “A cave dug into the sand, the way the dunes shift slightly different in that area, how the wind bends unnaturally near an opening.” He smirked. “Ohohoho. Not my first time tracking people through the sand.”
Zamian didn’t respond right away.
Instead, his gaze drifted toward Edmund.
The man had barely reacted during their entire walk. His body was slack, carried between Paul and Joshua, but his mind was clearly active. Zamian could see it in his sharp, darting eyes.
More importantly, none of the outsiders had attempted to send signals since Marlos arrived.
Not a single hand gesture.
It wasn’t caution. It was fear.
‘And Edmund…’
When he first saw Marlos, there had been a flicker of recognition in his eyes. A brief flash of familiarity.
Zamian didn’t press on it.
Instead, his thoughts drifted back to something far more pressing.
His body was burning through energy, every hour draining more of his strength, but that wasn’t what gnawed at him.
It was her.
Tulip.
He had hurt her, and he knew it. Even if he had done what was necessary, even if he had acted to protect them, it didn’t change what happened. The regret sat in the back of his mind, a weight he couldn’t ignore.
How would she react to seeing him?
Would she even want to look at him?
His hands clenched, but he forced himself to focus.
Another hour passed before they reached another dune.
Zamian willed the White Dot to show his stats.
PERSONAL INFORMATION
Name: Zamian Greenfield
Level: 4 [16%]
Tier: Mortal
Main Pathway: Knowledge
Title: Insightful
STATS
Body: 460/24000
Mind: 9000/26000
Soul: 4000/24000
As the white letters faded, he looked up.
At the base of the dune, hidden from plain sight, was a small opening in the sand. A makeshift entrance.
Zamian glanced at Marlos. The bald man gave a slow nod.
Without another word, Zamian stepped forward first, ducking inside.
The air was thick with sweat and the faint scent of cooked food. A small fire flickered near the center, its smoke curling toward a narrow hole in the wall, barely big enough to let it escape.
Bohlo sat beside Soho, the old man’s chest rising and falling in slow breaths. Bohlo’s usual energy was muted, shoulders hunched, his gaze unfocused.
Kurt crouched by the fire, stirring something in a crude pot, his eyes shadowed. He waved at the smoke absentmindedly, directing it toward another small hole.
Then, noticing movement in the entrance, and being the most cautious one, he looked up.
His eyes widened.
Bohlo tensed as if his instincts had warned him, his nostrils flaring as he turned sharply, locking onto Zamian.
His body stiffened.
And across the cave, Tulip sat against the wall, knees drawn to her chest.
Her face was streaked with dried tears, her fingers clenching her sleeves. Her eyes stayed on the ground, distant, empty.
She didn’t look up.
Zamian’s fingers curled into a fist.
The fire crackled.
Bohlo stood up, carefully to not hurt his father. Kurt shifted but said nothing, his gaze lingering on Zamian, with a mixture of surprise and fear.
And Tulip, without so much as a glance toward the entrance, buried her head into her knees.
Zamian took a deep breath and then stepped inside.
‘It’s time to deal with the consequences of my actions.’
Ruthless: Path of Conquest!
