Chương 122: The Journey Continues

Aiko was quietly doing that thing she always does where she eats like she's trying not to disturb the food's feelings. Tiny bites. Careful pauses. Eyes flicking back and forth between everyone like she was watching a conversation through a slightly cracked window and trying to understand the weather outside.

Fiona, on the other hand, gave Ostia a gentle nod while chewing, her expression soft and reassuring, like she was silently agreeing with the idea of "we will deal with this" without needing a full speech about it. Then June decided the moment needed… branding. She set her fork down with precision, straightened her posture, and spoke like she was presenting a formal announcement to a board of invisible investors.

"You have happened to encounter a highly capable team," she said confidently.

"We will complete this mission without failure. That outcome is essentially guaranteed, considering my presence alone is a key factor in its success." There was not even a hint of hesitation in her voice. Not a single crack of doubt. Just pure, polished confidence like it had been ironed earlier in the day. I slowly turned my head toward her. My brain took a second to process what I had just heard, like it was waiting for subtitles. Then I sighed through my nose.

"Wow," I said.

"No matter what universe we're in, you always find a way to turn a serious moment into a personal highlight reel, huh?" After the meal situation had been thoroughly demolished, emotionally and physically, we eventually peeled ourselves away from the table. It felt a bit like leaving a really good dream where the food keeps going, except in this case the dream also involved monsters trying to turn us into decorative floor stains.

Ostia led the way out of the village, and the moment we stepped outside again, the desert greeted us like an old enemy who never runs out of energy. Sand everywhere. Sunlight hitting it in a way that made the whole world look like it had been lightly toasted. The air still carried that dry heat that clings to your throat like it's trying to file a residency permit. Ostia stopped walking after a bit and turned slightly toward us.

His expression was serious again, like the meal break had been a temporary ceasefire in a much larger problem. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"The one responsible for the Skulkers is deeper in that direction," he explained, pointing out across the dunes.

"A Matriarch. Her nest lies ahead, heavily guarded by her swarm. You will recognize it when you see a massive opening in the ground where she resides." He paused, then added more quietly.

"Be careful. Nothing in that area is ever unguarded." I tilted my head, squinting into the bright sand like it might give me a better explanation if I stared hard enough.

"So basically," I said, "we're going to visit the local queen of 'absolutely not friendly creatures' who lives in a giant sand pothole surrounded by her enthusiastic security team." I exhaled.

"Love that for us." Dimitri stepped forward without missing a beat. Of course he did. The man treats dangerous declarations like scheduled appointments.

"In every place there is a ruler," he said firmly, eyes already forward, "and in every tyrant there is a burden placed upon those who suffer beneath them. If this Matriarch is the source of their fear, then removing her will bring them freedom." He tightened his grip slightly, posture straightening.

"To confront her is to earn honor. To defeat her is to bring them peace." And just like that, he started walking. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just a giant armored man moving through the desert like the sand itself owed him money. I watched him for half a second, then sighed.

"Yeah, alright," I muttered.

"Lead the inspirational charge, Captain Statue of Moral Certainty." I followed after him, along with the others, as we headed deeper into the dunes toward the place where something very large, very angry, and very underground was apparently waiting to say hello. We kept moving through the dunes, and honestly, "walking" felt like the wrong verb for what was happening. It was more like "slowly baking while pretending forward progress is a lifestyle choice."

The sun hammered down on us without mercy, turning the sand into something that felt personally offended by our existence. Every step sank just enough to remind you that the desert had no interest in efficiency. Or kindness. Or anything remotely aligned with good life decisions. I was halfway to complaining out loud when something felt off. Not the usual "this place is trying to kill me" vibe. This was sharper. Heavier. Like the ground itself had suddenly developed awareness and was now paying attention to us.

I stopped walking. My instincts didn't whisper this time. They grabbed me by the collar and shouted. Something was moving under us. But not like the Skulkers. Those things were erratic. Like angry underground popcorn. This was different. This had direction. Purpose. Weight behind it. The sand beneath my boots rippled in a way that made my skin tighten. Not subtle. Not hesitant. It was like something massive was swimming just under the surface, pushing through the dunes with confidence. I didn't think. I just moved.

My hands went to my weapons. The revolver came up first, solid and familiar. The flintlock followed right after, like an old argument that still knows how to finish a fight. Metal clicked into place, and suddenly the world felt a little more negotiable again. Around me, I saw the others react too. Dimitri shifted his stance immediately, shield angled forward. Fiona's body tensed like a coiled spring. Aiko looked startled but focused, like she was trying to decide whether fear or strategy should win first.

June's gaze sharpened instantly, already calculating angles and outcomes like she was mentally editing reality. I glanced at them, voice lowering.

"Yeah," I said, slow and steady, "this is not our friendly neighborhood bug problem." The sand exploded upward before I could finish the sentence. No warning. No polite introduction. Just pure aggression from below. A colossal shape burst through the dunes right in front of us, sand spraying outward in a violent wave. The ground split like it had lost an argument with something much stronger. A massive jaw opened wide, lined with jagged, glass-like teeth that caught the sunlight and threw it back in sharp flashes.

The whole thing looked like someone had taken a nightmare, given it a shovel, and taught it how to ambush people professionally. For a second, my brain did that thing where it politely refuses to accept what my eyes are reporting. Then it caught up.

"…Oh," I muttered, tightening my grip.

"So that's what we're doing today."