Chapter 253: Sand and Romance
"I didn’t agree to this."
Her voice came muffled against Kael’s shoulder, half complaint and half stubbornness, the kind people used when they wanted to sound like they still had control even while being carried like luggage across an ocean of sand.
"You lost voting privileges when you nearly passed out."
Kael didn’t turn his head when he answered. He couldn’t afford to. Not with the sun sitting directly above them like a judgmental eye, not with the air shimmering so hard that the horizon looked like it was melting, and not with a line of exhausted climbers ahead of him who kept throwing glances over their shoulders like envy could turn into a knife if it sharpened long enough.
The woman shifted on his back, trying to find a position that didn’t pull at whatever injury had turned her into dead weight.
Ahead, the group dragged themselves toward the first beacon, a thin spike in the distance that looked close until you stared at it too long and realized the desert was playing tricks. Heat haze made the thing wobble like it was breathing. Every step forward felt like the world slid two steps back.
Kael carried her anyway.
Not because he was kind by nature. He wasn’t. He was practical. A living person was a resource, even an annoying one. And it didn’t hurt that she weighed almost nothing compared to the absurd shit he’d carried in training. The iron rings on his wrists and ankles tugged with every stride, their mass a constant reminder that he wasn’t on some casual stroll.
Looking at the group ahead, everyone seemed rather... envious, or angry.
Envious because someone got to ride. Angry because the rider wasn’t pulling her weight. The kind of resentment that didn’t need words. You could see it in tightened jaws, in eyes that lingered too long.
They didn’t voice it out loud, but they didn’t keep their expression form showing it either.
"You think this’ll help you get some points?" she told Kael.
Kael snorted once, not amused, just tired of people always assuming everything was a transaction. He kept his eyes on the line ahead, on Garron’s broad back, on the old man staggering behind him, on the skinny guy who kept side-eyeing Kael like he was deciding whether to hate him or worship him. And finally on the shifty calm person who has yet to speak a single word.
"Nothing like that, we’re too slow, look up, that damn first beacon is still miles away. And so far any oasis would force us to take dangerous unknown territory full of monsters and it might just be a mirage for all we know..."
The woman went quiet for a bit, the kind of silence that wasn’t sulking so much as recalculating. Then she shifted her face closer to his ear and spoke softer, like she didn’t want the others to hear.
"Thank you."
The words came out like they cost her pride. Quietly, just for Kael’s ears. "I’m being serious, anyone else would have just left me for dead..." she looked up at the rest of the group, "Yeah, definitely be left for dead." She sighed as she hugged Kael’s back tighter.
Kael felt the squeeze through his leather jacket, felt her fingers dig in like she was holding onto the only solid thing in a world made of shifting sand. He didn’t respond with some heroic line. He just kept walking.
Compared to the giant tree logs he had to carry up a slope back in during his training with his master, this woman felt like she weighed like a feather. Not much to cause issues.
It was good to have at least one person alive.
And the fact that Kael was easily able to keep up with the group only made them sourer.
No matter how Garron tried to hurry his steps Kael was still there, right next to them. Not behind. Not struggling. Just present, like a shadow that didn’t get tired.
Even when everyone was sweating and getting exhausted, Kael had yet to break a sweat.
Apart from the sun’s blazing heat, his breathing stayed even. He didn’t heave, or breath fast. His posture didn’t sag. The rings dragged, but he moved like he’d already made peace with weight.
"Slow down god damn it!" the old man couldn’t handle the rapid pace. "We’ll die from exhaustion at this rate..."
The old man’s voice cracked at the end, more desperation than anger. His lips looked pale under the dust crusting his face. Every time he spoke, his tongue seemed to stick, like his mouth was turning into sand too.
"The beacon is only a bit away," Garron said, not even looking back. His tone carried that cheap confidence leaders used when they didn’t want to admit fear. "Once we’re there we’ll have our first meal. Just keep up and stop being a bitch." He said.
The old man grumbled something profane under his breath and continued moving.
Kael heard it anyway. Heard everything. The scrape of boots. The soft clink of someone’s belt buckle. The way desperation changed footsteps. He’d learned that on the mountain: you could tell who was about to collapse just by how their heel started dragging.
Her voice came again, not as strained now. Talking to kill the silence, or maybe talking to keep herself from thinking too hard about how quickly people abandoned dead weight in places like this.
"You never told me your name," the woman said, having conversation would be much less cumbersome than walking the desert in silence.
"Kael, name’s Kael."
"Christy..." she replied.
Kael nodded, "So what brought you to this tower, Christy?"
"The usual, fame, money, power... and a family back home to take care off. Until the twentieth floor that is..."
There was a bitterness in the way she said it, like she could taste the irony. Like she’d chased the tower for "power" and it had repaid her with a dagger in the back.
"You feel, experienced..."
It wasn’t praise. It was an assessment. Kael had heard too many people try to sound hard only to break the moment things got ugly. Christy’s exhaustion felt... practiced.
"I was, I was a member of the Sun Clan after all," she said.
Kael tensed up.
It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t stop moving. But something in his shoulders tightened, a micro-shift of muscle that would’ve meant nothing to the others and everything to someone who knew how to read bodies.
A Sun Clan member was on his back.
That’s like having a knife to your neck.
For half a heartbeat, his mind ran through options, drop her, abandon the group, disappear into the dunes. Then the words ’Was a member’ stuck with him like a hook.
"Problem?" she asked.
Kael exhaled through his nose. Hot air, dry and ugly.
"Not fond of them."
"Neither am I."
Kael’s eyes narrowed slightly at that. Not suspicion, interest.
"What do you mean by that? You stopped being a member?"
Christy didn’t hesitate, which told Kael it wasn’t a rehearsed sob story. It was something she’d already decided to carry as truth.
"Well, when a group you partied with tires to group rape you in a far away dungeon and you decide death was better than being humiliated like that you tend to not want to stay in that same circle of people..."
Kael didn’t stumble, but his grip under her legs tightened, knuckles whitening for a second.
"Ah..." Kael sighed, everyone had their own problems.
The desert didn’t care about your trauma. People did, but only in the way predators cared about a limp.
Christy was pretty, that’s for sure.
Even covered in dust, even with dried blood that didn’t belong to her streaked on sleeves and collar, Kael could tell. And when a group of men gather, alone, far away from civilization, in a place that does not reward nor punish anyone but for their own mistakes and actions,
People tend to become more attuned with their nature.
Human nature.
"You decided against joining the Sun Clan in the Reverse Tower I suppose?"
"Yes, once I got here... I wanted to do solo. However, the bastards at the second floor hijacked the only exit of that floor, forcing others to pay exorbitant fees, or join them to pass."
"I always wondered why the administrators didn’t do anything about that?"
Christy let out a humorless breath.
"Administrators? You’d be lucky to hear about them appearing in a higher floor, they don’t give a fuck about any of us... but, how do you know about them? Aren’t you new here?"
Kael’s mouth twitched in something that wanted to be a smile and came out as a grimace.
"Well... let’s just say we had an argument," Kael smiled.
Christy’s tone sharpened, not aggressive, just disbelieving.
"You’re a man of many mysteries, and charm isn’t one of them."
"What did I do?" Kael asked.
"How are you lying with that straight face, you mean you had an argument with an Administrator and you’re still alive?"
Kael shifted her weight again, stepping around a patch of sand that looked too smooth. He didn’t answer her question directly.
"Well, does it look like we’re alive?" Kael asked.
"Touché..."
Ahead, the skinny person craned his neck back like he’d been waiting for an excuse.
"You two lovebirds, are we gonna keep yapping or are we gonna move?" the skinny person said.
Christy’s eyes narrowed over Kael’s shoulder.
"Hey mind your business, we’re not slowing you down," Christy said.
The skinny guy scoffed like he’d been personally offended by the concept of kindness.
"Damn bitch, you get to ride for free, get your ass down and walk like the rest of us."
Kael blinked, not because the insult surprised him, but because it was so stupidly bold. People always got brave when they thought the bigger threat was somewhere else.
Christy didn’t even hesitate. She leaned forward as far as she could on Kael’s back and planted a kiss on his cheek, quick, loud enough to be seen, childish enough to be infuriating.
"Why you want to be carried? Sorry but I’m not letting you have this stud. He’s mine for the floor. So look away, and keep moving." She shooed the man with her hand.
Kael blinked again.
Heat wasn’t the reason his face felt warmer.
"Was that necessary?"
"Very."
"You know, that’s a good way to get killed..."
"I know," she replied. "I’m actually banking on it," she said in a low voice.
Kael’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes sharpened. That wasn’t flirting. That was chess.
"Oh, I see... You’d rather make yourself a target..."
"Yeah, you heard that old man, he was trying to get Garron to appear like some useless leader. And that kid is easy to sway. If they Kill Garron you never know who’ll be the leader next. Though I wouldn’t mind it being you, but I’d definitely don’t want to be extorted to eat and drink if you know what I mean."
Kael nodded slowly, tracking the group ahead with new attention. Garron’s shoulders were tense. The old man was loud. The skinny one was hungry in the eyes, not just in the stomach. The kind of people who’d push someone into a hole and call it "bad luck."
He looked up, the beacon still a cruel needle in the distance, then down at the sand. The desert was quiet in a way that felt wrong, too smooth, too still. He breathed in through his nose, careful, tasting the air like it was information.
Kael nodded and looked up, "Garron," he said.
Garron stopped, "What is it?"
"Worm, a few feet ahead, we need to turn."
Garron looked forward, there was nothing there.
The ground looked flat, boring, safe. Which was exactly how traps liked to look. The group shifted behind Garron, some stopping reluctantly, others bumping into each other and cursing under their breath. Everyone hated stopping in open desert. Stopping meant wasting distance. Stopping meant admitting you didn’t control the terrain.
Still Kael was more than capable of sniffing them out.
"You sure about that nose of yours? I say you’re full of bullshit, that’s as flat as it can get, or do you just want to slow us down? maybe once we’re exhausted you get to be the leader?" the old man said.
Kael didn’t even look at him. He looked ahead, then slightly to the side, measuring where the sand lay just a fraction too neat.
"Then go on ahead, step forward," Kael said, "I’m taking a detour."
He pivoted without waiting for permission, turning his body and Christy with a smooth shift of weight that made it look effortless. He stepped wide around the spot, boots sinking a little deeper where the sand was looser, safer.
The group hesitated, caught between pride and survival. No one wanted to be the first to admit Kael might be right. No one wanted to be the first to challenge him either.
Christy exhaled loudly, "You bunch of pussies,"
Kael felt her hand move behind his shoulder and realized what she was doing a split second too late. His jaw tightened, not because it was a bad move, but because it was loud, dramatic, and humans loved drama more than sense.
She pulled out a boot.
She wasn’t using them anyway, and then threw it toward the location Kael marked.
The boot spun through the air, a dumb, ordinary object against an extraordinary silence. It landed with a soft thump that should’ve meant nothing.
The ground erupted like it had been punched from below by a god. A pale, glistening maw burst out, ringed with hard mandibles that clacked as they snapped shut on leather. Sand exploded outward in a violent fan, peppering the group’s legs and faces. Someone yelped. Someone else fell back onto their ass and scrambled like a crab trying to stand.
The worm missed its prey, missed them, and that was the only reason anyone was still breathing.
The blind creature didn’t linger above ground. It couldn’t. It was built for ambush, not chasing. It swallowed, shuddering once, then slid back down with terrifying speed.
And as it disappeared, it did something that made Kael’s skin prickle: it used its long mandibles to brush the sand into a perfectly flat surface.
Like it was cleaning up after itself.
Like it wanted the next idiot to think the ground was safe.
Then it was gone, and the desert pretended nothing happened.
For a moment, nobody spoke. Even Garron looked like he’d swallowed his pride along with a mouthful of sand.
"Damn, you really have a good nose..." Christy said.
Kael didn’t answer with a smug grin. He just stared at the spot a second longer, making sure the red danger in his head stayed marked.
Then he shifted Christy on his back again, turned his feet into the detour he’d already chosen, and kept moving, because in the tower, proving you’re right only mattered if you lived long enough for it to matter twice.
