The convoy stopped fifty meters from the water's edge.
Kaelen stepped out of the lead crawler. The air here was radically different. The suffocating metallic taste of ash was replaced by the smells of damp earth, sulfurous water, and strange, spicy vegetation.
It looked like paradise compared to the dunes. Tall, twisted rock formations provided shade. Bioluminescent moss glowed faintly in the twilight shadows. A large pool of opaque green water sat in the center.
But Kaelen knew better.
"Paradise in the Wasteland," Kaelen murmured, adjusting his coat to hide the fresh lightning burns on his chest, "is just a prettier trap."
He scanned the rocks. His [Abyssal Sight], still crackling with residual storm energy, painted the landscape in heat signatures.
They were surrounded.
Hundreds of them. The Nomads. They didn't hide like assassins; they blended in like predators. They wore cloaks made of desert camouflage and chitin armor harvested from giant insects. They held bone bows with obsidian-tipped arrows, aimed directly at Kaelen's throat.
"Vex, Lyra. Stay in the vehicles," Kaelen ordered over the comms. "Keep the engines running. If I drop, level the place."
He walked forward alone, his boots crunching on gravel instead of ash. He stopped ten paces from the water.
"I want to speak to the Alpha," Kaelen announced, his voice calm.
A figure detached itself from the largest rock formation.
He was massive, nearly seven feet tall. His skin was a mottled grey, wrinkled like leather that had been left in the sun too long. He wore armor made from the carapace of a Dune-Scorpion, and he carried a hammer made from a truck engine block welded to a steel girder.
The Chief.
He walked toward Kaelen, his entourage of warriors fanning out behind him. They looked at the armored crawlers with a mix of fear and greed.
The Chief stopped three feet from Kaelen. He smelled of dried meat and dust.
"Soft-lander," the Chief grated, his voice like grinding stones. "You bring loud machines to the quiet place. You bring the storm smell."
"I bring business," Kaelen replied.
He reached into his inventory and pulled out the heavy sack containing 3,000 Platinum Coins—the remainder of the Bishop's bribe.
He tossed it at the Chief's feet. The sack hit the ground with a heavy metallic thud. Some coins spilled out, gleaming intensely against the dirt.
The Nomads muttered. It was more wealth than they had seen in a lifetime.
The Chief didn't look down. He stared right into Kaelen's violet eyes.
"Shiny rocks," the Chief scoffed. "Can't eat them. Can't kill with them. Useless."
"They buy the things that can," Kaelen countered.
He took a step forward, lowering his voice.
"The Iron City Church paid me that money to kill you. They want this Oasis for a surveillance tower. They are coming, Chief. With machines bigger than mine and fire hotter than the sun."
Kaelen kicked the sack of coins toward the Chief.
"Gold is just a tool. Like a knife. You can use it to defend yourself, or you can let your enemy use it to cut your throat. Take the money. Buy weapons from the smugglers. Prepare."
The Chief looked at the gold, then back at Kaelen. A cruel smile split his leathery face.
"The soft-landers think trade solves everything," the Chief spat on the ground near the coins. "You think you can buy safety."
He raised his massive hammer, resting it on his shoulder.
"Out here, we don't trade for tomorrow. Only blood buys tomorrow. You are trespassing, soft-lander. And you look bleedable."
Kaelen sighed.
'Pragmatism fails when faced with zealotry,' Kaelen thought. 'They value strength over survival.'
Behind him, he heard the turrets on the crawlers swivel. Lyra and her team were ready to open fire. It was going to be a massacre. Kaelen could win, but he would lose the potential alliance, and likely half his ammo.
"A waste," Kaelen whispered, his hand drifting toward his sword.
RUMBLE.
Suddenly, the ground lurched.
It wasn't a subtle vibration. It was a deep, resonant groan that seemed to come from the core of the planet. The water in the oasis pool rippled violently, splashing onto the banks.
The Nomads froze. Their aggression evaporated instantly, replaced by primal terror. They lowered their weapons, looking nervously at the ground.
Even the massive Chief took a step back, his eyes wide.
"The Queen..." one of the warriors whispered. "She wakes."
Kaelen's sensors flared. The massive, cold energy signature he had detected earlier was moving. Rapidly.
'The storm woke it up,' Kaelen realized. 'And the vibration of the crawlers drew it here.'
The ground fifty meters to the left of the Oasis exploded upward.
ROAR!
A geyser of sand and rock erupted into the twilight sky. From the depths emerged a nightmare.
It was a Sand-Worm. But not a common one. This thing was colossal, easily twenty meters wide. Its maw was a circular saw of crystalline teeth that spun wildly. Its armored hide was the color of dried blood, covered in jagged spikes.
[System Warning.]
[Boss Entity Detected: The Sand-Worm Queen (Rank B).]
[State: Enraged.]
The Queen roared again, a sound that created physical pressure waves. It slammed its body onto the ground, crushing several rock formations like Styrofoam.
The Nomads scrambled backward, screaming. They forgot about Kaelen. They forgot about the gold. In the face of an apex predator, they were just meat.
The Chief roared orders in their native tongue, trying to organize a retreat into the caves.
Kaelen didn't retreat.
He stood his ground as sand rained down around him. He looked at the massive beast, then back at the terrified Chief.
An opportunity. A violent, dangerous opportunity.
"You said only blood buys tomorrow!" Kaelen shouted over the roar of the monster, drawing his black Mithril Sword.
He turned his back on the Nomads and started walking toward the titanic worm.
"Watch closely, Chief," Kaelen called out, his [Abyssal Aura] flaring to match the beast's intensity.
"I'm about to pay the deposit."