Thoren sat on the back of the undead Iron Roar Komodo, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

He had been traveling for over two hours, yet the sight of the ancient ruin was not in sight.

He creased his brow, and a slow, deep frown appeared on his face.

"Did I make a mistake?" he mused, looking down at the map in his hands.

He shook his head firmly. "I did not make any mistake. Is it possible the map is fake and there is no ancient ruin at all?"

He had his doubts but still chose to gamble. He could accept if the ruin was too dangerous for his current level.

But not finding the ruin at all was another thing entirely. That would mean he had been played completely by a mere Jackal Beastman.

Just thinking about that possibility made his blood boil in rage, but he took deep breaths to calm his raging heart.

"I cannot jump to conclusions. I need to keep searching," he whispered, trying to remain rational and focused.

"The location of the ruin is due south. There should be a dry oasis before the ruin," he mused, studying the map with deeper concentration.

Hmm?

He creased his brow again.

"Dry oasis?" he questioned aloud.

He raised his head and looked at the endless dunes around him, but he found no oasis at all.

"Is it possible the dry oasis was also fake?" he questioned himself.

He shook his head. Even if the ruin was going to be fake, all the details around it must be true, yet he had found none of them.

"My main priority should be finding the dry oasis. As long as I find the dry oasis, it will be easy to confirm if the ruin is real or not."

With that plan in mind, he controlled his mount to move toward higher dunes. From there, it would be easier for him to spot the dry oasis.

The undead Iron Roar Komodo raced through the desert sand, raising a thick cloud of dust behind it.

The three blood moons bore down on him, and the scorching, unforgiving heat dug deep into his body.

Thoren’s back was drenched in sweat, and beads of perspiration gathered on his forehead.

He had lost count of how many bottles of water he had consumed. He realized that without his stockpile of supplies, finding the ruins was nothing but a pipe dream.

The Bleeding Desert was more brutal than he had ever imagined. The further he went deeper into the desert, the hotter it became.

Additionally, the desert sand wind was getting harsher, like a cold blade pressed against his skin.

He searched for another hour but found nothing. Everywhere he looked was nothing but sand, with no traces of the dry oasis.

"Is it possible the oasis had been covered by sand over time?" he mused, and his face sorrowed.

The possibility of the dry oasis being covered by the shifting desert sand was too high to ignore.

He wiped off the beads of sweat from his forehead, lost in thought. He considered turning back but shook his head.

Going back would mean starting a senseless battle he was not ready for yet.

While Thoren was contemplating what to do, something caught his sight from the corner of his eyes.

Sand Hounds.

From the foot of a massive dune, dozens of Sand Hounds stepped out of hidden burrows.

They howled loudly, and their fiery eyes locked in the direction of the massive undead creature in the distance.

They had noticed that an intruder had entered their territory, and they were out to hunt.

Whoosh!

The dozens of Sand Hounds charged forward at breathtaking speed. The lowest among them was a Level 25 Sand Hound, while the highest was a Level 27.

Looking at the incoming Sand Hounds, Thoren tapped his mount to charge forward. The anger of failing to find the ruin was directed at the innocent Sand Hound.

Thus, the undead Iron Roar Komodo raced ahead, its hollow sockets burning with soul fire locked on the incoming Sand Hounds.

Dust rose to the sky behind them.

The Sand Hounds snarled continuously, their fangs out and filled with killing intent.

When there were less than twenty meters between them, Thoren prepared to summon his elite undead servants, but then he froze.

"This is not good," his heart skipped a beat.

Without hesitation, he commanded his mount to turn around and flee.

’Faster,’ he urged through the mental link.

Seeing their prey fleeing, the Sand Hounds howled fiercely and pursued with all their might.

Compared to the speed of the Sand Hounds, the speed of the undead Komodo was lacking.

Quickly, the distance was shortened, and there was less than five meters between them.

Yet Thoren did not look back. His mind was solely focused on escaping.

’How can my luck be this bad?’ he cried in his heart.

Just then, a terrifying, sharp wind howled behind him. The howling was frightening, as if the Bleeding Desert had come alive with rage.

Sand rose into the sky as if welcoming their deity.

Feeling the change in the atmosphere, the Sand Hounds halted their chase and turned around.

There, they saw it.

A sky reaching Sandstorm was rushing toward them, swallowing everything in its path. Quickly, the Sand Hounds began to burrow into the sand for safety.

Looking over his shoulder, Thoren realized the Sand Hounds were gone, but the grave expression on his face did not lessen.

The Sandstorm was fast approaching. It roared like a living, breathing beast of destruction.

’This will not work,’ he exclaimed in his heart.

Without any hesitation, he jumped down from the back of his mount and withdrew it back into his undead space. He then summoned another undead beast.

The Level 28 Undead Sanguine Vulture Spawn appeared before him.

He got onto its back and commanded it to fly high into the sky.

Whoosh!

The undead Sanguine Vulture cut through the air like a broken loose arrow, swift and powerful.

Seated on the back of the undead vulture, Thoren gripped its feathers firmly, trying desperately not to fall.

Looking back, he realized the distance between him and the Sandstorm was increasing with each passing second.

A few minutes later, he had escaped completely from the vicinity of the raging sandstorm.

"That was too close," he muttered under his breath.

He took out another bottle of water and drank it all in one motion. He sighed heavily and wiped off the bead of sweat from his forehead.

After waiting for another half hour, he returned in the direction of the Sand Hounds. However, he had barely flown for over five minutes when he saw something remarkable in the distance.

A dry oasis.

Its cracked, parched earth stretched across the desert floor, surrounded by the skeletons of ancient trees.

Thoren’s heart leaped with renewed hope. The map was real. The oasis existed.

And somewhere beyond it, the ancient ruin waited to be discovered.

He urged the undead vulture forward, flying toward the dry oasis with renewed determination.

The first clue had been found.

The rest of the journey was just beginning.

****

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