At this moment, Evelyn was explaining to O'Connor the process of mummification.
She gestured as she spoke, trying to help O'Connor better understand the complexity of the craft.
When Wes approached, O'Connor immediately pulled Evelyn behind him.
"Who exactly are you?"
Jonathan also stopped his complaining and stood beside O'Connor, a pistol firmly in his hand.
"How disheartening. I was the one who paid the gold to save your life." Wes felt his efforts were wasted, though he also meant it as a reminder to O'Connor that he wasn't their enemy.
"You have a very clear objective. You knew about Hamunaptra long before this, and you even knew there was something here you were looking for."
O'Connor cut straight to the point.
"If you don't reveal your true identity and purpose, then I think it's time we part ways. We don't need someone as unstable as you in this team." His tone was firm, leaving no room for compromise.
Just as Wes was about to respond, the sound of galloping hooves thundered in the distance.
Dozens of black-clad horsemen surged forward in formation, charging straight at them.
They were the Medjai warriors, mounted on towering steeds, sweeping across the sands like a black tidal wave, intent on killing every last intruder.
Clad in dark robes and brandishing curved scimitars that gleamed cold and sharp under the moonlight, they looked ready to reap lives at any moment.
Some carried muskets, and with a single command, they were prepared to unleash fiery death upon the foreigners.
The thunder of hooves, the storm of sand and dust, and the furious war cries of the Medjai echoed over the ruins of Hamunaptra, as though the desert itself was roaring in anger.
But O'Connor and his group were no amateurs. The Americans were heavily armed, and soon both sides clashed in a deadly battle across the desert sands.
Bullets streaked through the air like meteors, screaming as they flew. Steel clashed with steel in flashes of cold light.
Jonathan, O'Connor, and the others quickly found cover, relying on their years of combat experience to fight back fiercely.
Under the moonlight, bullets and blades wove a net of death. Both sides fought with everything they had, determined to crush the other.
Wes stood silently off to the side, arms crossed. He chose not to act against the Medjai warriors blessed by the Egyptian gods, for he knew well the mission and faith these men carried.
Despite the ferocity of the Medjai, O'Connor and the Americans' resistance took its toll.
Horses screamed in agony, warriors fell bleeding into the sand, and soon the desert was stained crimson.
At last, when the stalemate dragged on, the leader of the Medjai, Amir, stepped forward and roared:
"Invaders! You have trespassed upon forbidden ground and disturbed the dead! I will grant you one day to leave Hamunaptra—otherwise, you will suffer the curse of the evil spirits!"
His voice echoed into the night. After leaving this warning, Amir and his surviving warriors withdrew, their figures fading into the endless sands, leaving only silence in their wake.
"Do you think he's telling the truth? Is there really a curse?" a few of the Americans asked nervously.
But most dismissed Amir's warning.
"Who cares? They've been after us since the beginning. For all we know, they're just desert bandits looking to rob us blind."
After the battle, everyone began cleaning the battlefield, burying the dead beneath the dunes.
The desert's daytime heat was so intense, like a massive furnace, that before long the corpses would dry out into mummies. There was no need to worry about the stench of decay spreading.
Once the grim task was done, they gathered once more around the campfire.
Jonathan somehow produced a bottle of liquor from who-knows-where. He eagerly took a long swig, his cheeks flushing red like a ripe apple.
"Now that was exciting."
Evelyn, however, was troubled, her brow furrowed as she recalled Amir's warning.
"The curse… what if it's real?"
O'Connor dismissed it with a scoff.
"Curses don't exist. It's just Amir trying to scare—"
He was cut off mid-sentence by Wes's sudden voice.
"They do exist. Hamunaptra is indeed haunted by a terrible curse."
The three of them turned, startled to see Wes appear out of nowhere.
"You and your ghostly entrances," Jonathan complained, glaring. "You made me spill my drink!"
But O'Connor's expression turned serious.
"What do you mean by that?"
Wes sat down casually by the fire. He began recounting the tragic tale of High Priest Imhotep and Princess Anck-su-Namun.
"The queen betraying the pharaoh with the high priest—now that's scandalous!" Jonathan leaned forward, listening with fascination as though hearing the plot of a gripping novel, completely ignoring the darker implications.
Evelyn, on the other hand, was moved by the tragic romance, as though she herself had been swept into the story.
But O'Connor's suspicion deepened.
"How do you know all this? Who exactly are you?"
Faced with O'Connor's relentless questioning, Wes stopped pretending.
He opened his palm—suddenly, a ball of roaring flame appeared out of thin air, burning brightly against the night sky with an aura of raw, mysterious power.
"My God…" The three of them stared in shock.
Wes lifted his hand, and the fireball floated weightlessly in the air, defying all physical laws. Jonathan, driven by curiosity, poked it with a finger and yelped as the heat scorched him.
"Ahh!" He pulled back his hand and rubbed his finger, staring wide-eyed.
"As you can see," Wes said calmly, "I am a wizard."
"There must be some trick," Jonathan muttered, nervously checking the surroundings. Yet no matter where he looked, he found no wires, no devices, no hidden mechanisms.
"So you're really a wizard?" O'Connor was unwilling to believe it. He'd rather think Wes was a spy sent by some foreign power, or a schemer after treasure, than accept the existence of true sorcery.
Wes blew gently on the flame. Instantly, it froze into a crystal of solid ice, tumbling to the sand with a soft crack as it shattered into shards.
The three of them picked up the fragments, exchanging stunned glances—each seeing disbelief reflected in the other's eyes.
"You're really a wizard?" they asked again, their voices uncertain.
"That's right," Wes confirmed.
"Then how do you know of Hamunaptra?" O'Connor pressed further.
"An ancient book," Wes answered simply.
No matter how many more questions they asked, the truth became undeniable—Wes was indeed a wizard.
"Then… the curse Amir spoke of, it's real?" Evelyn asked anxiously.
Wes nodded gravely.
"Yes. The curse of Hamunaptra is real."
°°°
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