After spending about a month at the western shipyards of the liberated second continent, and somewhat getting familiar with using magic, the vanguard decided it was finally time to march to the third continent.

The transition from the lush coastline of the Second Continent to the scorching border of the Third Continent felt like walking directly into a furnace. The massive column of five hundred thousand soldiers and one hundred thousand kingdom knights marched in an expansive line, their feet kicking up fine golden dust that coated their polished armor.

At the entrance to the great dunes, two figures draped in sun-bleached linen stood waiting beside a sandstone path.

Iron-Scale led the march, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of an ambush. The wind from his core swirled around his boots, lifting the sand into tiny funnels that cleared his path.

"You must be the ones the Sovereign spoke of," the lead guide said, bowing his head. "I am Roal. My brother and I will lead this host through the Great Sea of Glass."

’They look like walking mud,’ Gulag thought, wiping sweat from her brow as she felt the earth magic spinning in her chest. ’I could flatten this entire desert if needed. The heat is definitely more annoying than fighting dragons.’

"We are ready to move," Iron-Scale replied, gesturing to the vast army stretching back for miles. "Our mission is to reach the far borders quickly."

Roal turned to start the walk into the dunes. "Speed is a dangerous luxury here, Commander. This desert has been a graveyard for decades. The Fourth Continent pushes into our borders constantly. They fight with hidden units and shadow-stalkers to bleed us dry."

"Decades of war?" Syra asked, merging with a shadow cast by a large rock. "The reports mentioned incursions. They missed the scope of a never-ending conflict."

"It is a war of attrition," the second guide added. "They want the artifacts buried beneath our sands. They build outposts inside the mesas and subterranean bases under the dunes. You only see them once you step into their kill zones."

He pointed toward a series of distant, craggy mountains shimmering in the heat.

"Stay close to the main path," Roal warned. "If a battalion drifts too far into the dunes, they vanish. Mirages and buried stones conceal their fortifications. We will take you through the safe corridors. Keep your soldiers in a compact formation."

’They are fighting a guerrilla war on a continental scale,’ Iron-Scale analyzed, resting his hand on his hilt. ’If the enemy has operated here for decades, they possess supply lines we cannot see. We are moving through a minefield.’

"We will stay on your heels," Iron-Scale told the guides. "Lead the way."

General Krax and his Blood-Mane Orcs marched directly behind Roal, their plated boots sinking slightly into the shifting dunes. Heat radiated from the ground to wave the distant mesas into shimmering pools of false water.

’We are completely exposed out here,’ Krax thought, gripping his greataxe. ’A terrible place to wage war.’

Roal raised a hand to signal a halt, his eyes darting across the seemingly empty expanse of sand ahead.

Before the guide could utter a warning, the terrain violently altered. The shimmering mirage directly beneath the leading Orc battalion dissolved to reveal a massive sinkhole. Dozens of Krax’s soldiers tumbled into the collapsing pit with startled roars.

From the concealed edges of the crater, a volley of arcane artillery fired outward. Searing beams of concentrated light lanced into the vanguard lines, entirely coordinated by Aethelgard mages hidden within a subterranean bunker.

"Ambush!" Krax bellowed, raising his axe to rally his stumbling troops.

Iron-Scale bypassed the General entirely and stepped forward. Drawing a single star-iron dagger, he channeled his emerald mana core to slash upward, sending a condensed crescent of howling wind across the battlefield. The elemental blade intercepted the incoming arcane beams, slicing the magical artillery strikes into harmless sparks.

"Secure the perimeter," Iron-Scale commanded.

Gulag bounded past the edge of the crater, slamming her fists directly into the shifting sand. Her amber core flared brightly as it surged deep into the unstable ground, forcing the earth to obey.

The collapsing sinkhole instantly solidified into impenetrable bedrock, catching the falling Orcs and providing them a secure foothold to climb out.

’Such profound elemental control,’ Krax observed, watching her casually rewrite the terrain. ’They do not even need weapons.’

With the trap stabilized, Syra went on the offensive. She melted entirely into the shadow cast by Krax’s broad shoulders. Slipping through the sunlight unseen, she traveled across the battlefield via the dark crevices inside the sinkhole and materialized directly behind the Aethelgard mages operating the artillery within their buried outpost.

"Intruder!" one of the human casters yelled, desperately raising a staff.

Syra severed his vocal cords with a blade of pure darkness. She moved through the enclosed bunker with lethal efficiency, painting the sandstone walls crimson. The coordinated magical barrage from the outpost ceased immediately.

Iron-Scale walked to the edge of the stabilized crater and looked down at the ruined bunker. The entire ambush had been dismantled in a matter of seconds. Krax lowered his greataxe, his expression shifting from combat readiness to absolute awe. He realized the Sovereign’s core commanders were playing on an entirely different level of warfare.

"Reform the lines, General," Iron-Scale instructed, sheathing his dagger. "We have a schedule to keep."

Iron-Scale watched the Orcs fall back into formation. He turned toward the guides waiting by the stabilized crater to verify their upcoming path.

"How long until we reach a secure staging point?" Iron-Scale asked, sliding his dagger back into its sheath. "We cannot leave six hundred thousand troops exposed in the open dunes indefinitely."

Roal dusted the golden sand from his linen robes. "Our first stop is a fortress city located exactly half a day’s march ahead. The local ruler received word of your arrival and is currently preparing a massive meal for the army."

Syra stepped out from the shade of a nearby transport wagon. She crossed her arms, her silver scales catching the intense desert sunlight.

"A single fortress city is preparing a meal for six hundred thousand soldiers?" Syra asked, her voice laced with obvious skepticism. "We brought five hundred thousand vassal troops and a hundred thousand kingdom knights. Feeding a force of this magnitude requires an agricultural infrastructure I severely doubt a besieged wasteland can support."