Chapter 1: The Wanderer Among the Augria Dunes
The sun hung in the sky like a massive sphere of fire, scorching every gust of wind that swept across the sea of sand. The Augria Dunes, the wild expanse of the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica, stretched endlessly—nothing but sand and stone, a place where life seemed incapable of taking root. No greenery, no visible water sources, only towering cliffs, deep ravines, and massive dunes that constantly shifted shape with each desert wind.
During the day, the heat was so intense that it distorted the air, and the sunlight reflecting off the sand created distant mirages. At night, the land turned into a frigid wasteland, where the cutting desert winds slashed through flesh like blades. The creatures that survived in this land were all ferocious—giant scorpions with deadly venom, and desert behemoths capable of swallowing a human whole in a single bite.
And in this place, there was a wanderer.
He walked slowly across the burning sea of sand, his bare feet pressing into the scorching ground without hesitation.
His appearance was a strange contrast between the tattered look of a drifter and the dignified presence of an exiled warrior.
He was tall, at least over 1.9 meters, with a lean yet powerful build—his muscles were hard and defined beneath his sun-scorched skin, as if his body had been forged through countless battles. His collarbones jutted out, his shoulders were broad, and his long arms bore visible veins that pulsed whenever he clenched his fists.
His face was sharp, like a weathered sculpture worn down by time. High cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and a faint scar running from the corner of his mouth up to near his ear—silent proof of past battles. But his most striking feature was his eyes—golden amber, burning with a cold, distant loneliness, as if they had witnessed too much loss.
His hair was pure white, falling to the middle of his back, tangled with dust and sand yet still flowing with the wind. It shimmered strangely under the sunlight, as though it once belonged to someone of noble lineage, now merely a remnant of a buried past.
He wore tattered clothing, but it was far from ordinary. A black cloak, faded and torn in many places, its edges frayed like delicate blades. Beneath it was a light leather cuirass, once masterfully crafted, now scratched and cracked from the merciless sands and time.
A gray scarf was wrapped around his neck, shielding him from the desert winds. On his left arm, he wore a metal gauntlet, though most of its plating was broken, leaving only a few intact pieces, with the rest exposing layers of tightly wrapped fabric beneath.
At his waist hung an old sword. Its leather-wrapped hilt was worn and frayed, and its sheath was cracked from the relentless assault of sand and heat. The weapon seemed to have been with him for many years, a silent witness to his existence in this world.
This wanderer had no purpose, no place to return to.
Yet he continued walking, leaving footprints in the sand—only for the desert winds to erase them, as if he had never existed.
The desert is no place for the weak.
The wanderer stepped past a jagged rock jutting from the sand, tilting his head slightly as he felt an unusual gust of wind brush against his neck. He stopped. The silence around him was eerie. Under the scorching sun, heatwaves distorted his vision, but he could sense it—something was lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Then, without warning, the sand behind him swelled like a rising wave, and a massive shadow burst from beneath the ground.
GAAARRHHH!!
A colossal beast emerged—a Sandworm, but far larger than any he had ever seen. It was at least 20 meters long, its serpentine body coiling with immense power, covered in thick, hardened plates the color of ancient sunbaked stone. Its head bloomed open like a monstrous carnivorous flower, lined with rows upon rows of curved, dagger-like teeth, each as long as a sword. A thick, green, viscous fluid dripped from its fangs, sizzling as it touched the sand, releasing toxic fumes into the air.
The wanderer showed no fear. He merely raised an eyebrow, his left hand brushing against the hilt of his sword.
WHOOSH!
The beast lunged with terrifying speed, sending sand flying in every direction.
The wanderer bent his knees—then vanished just as the monstrous jaws snapped shut. In the blink of an eye, he was already perched atop a distant rock, gazing down at the predator that had just missed its prey. The desert wind caught his tattered cloak, making it billow like a battle-worn flag.
"Big, but not smart," he murmured.
The Sandworm let out a piercing screech. Its massive tail shot up into the air—then suddenly slammed down like a collapsing pillar, aiming to crush him under its sheer weight.
He leaped back, barely escaping as the impact shattered the rock beneath him into dust. A deep trench formed in the sand—had he been even a second slower, he would have been nothing but pulp.
SWISH!
The blade in his hand gleamed as it was drawn from its sheath. A weathered sword, worn by time, suddenly blazed with an eerie energy. Its silver light pierced through the dusty air, reflecting the scorching sun.
The beast roared again, recognizing a true threat.
BOOM!!
The sand erupted as the Sandworm twisted, preparing another assault. But this time, the wanderer did not retreat—he charged forward.
His steps were as light as a phantom's, yet impossibly fast. One moment he was on the ground, the next he was sprinting across the monster's armored body, gliding past razor-sharp plates.
GET OFF!
He swung his blade.
SLASH!!
A precise strike at the joint between the hardened plates. Green blood gushed out like a waterfall, staining the sand below.
The Sandworm howled in pain, thrashing to throw him off, but he had already disappeared from its back.
THUD!
He landed effortlessly on another rock, his sharp gaze locked onto the writhing beast.
Not dead yet?
The wound was severe, but it was still too strong. The creatures that thrived in the Augria Dunes did not die easily.
The Sandworm screeched again. The sands around them began to tremble.
The wanderer narrowed his eyes.
Not good.
It wasn't fighting alone.
Beneath the shifting sands, at least three more shadows were emerging. Smaller Sandworms, each still three times the size of a man, now surrounded him from all sides.
The desert wind howled.
Four monsters. One man.
His lips curled into a faint smile—one that could be amusement or disdain.
His grip on the sword tightened.
"Alright then… come at me."
The sand erupted once more.
The real battle had begun.
The desert wind howled like a wild beast.
Four colossal Sandworms roared, surrounding the wanderer from all sides. He stood firm, his sword gleaming with a cold, sharp light, yet his eyes remained calm—as if he did not consider them a threat.
The sand erupted.
Two of the monsters lunged at him simultaneously, one from the front, one from behind.
The wanderer moved.
WHOOSH!
His body glided like the wind, vanishing before the creatures' fanged jaws could snap shut. A second later, he was airborne, stepping onto the back of one Sandworm and using it as a springboard to propel himself even higher.
SWOOSH!
His sword spun through the air, reflecting the blazing sunlight. A silver flash streaked across the sky.
SLASH!
A massive head crashed onto the sand. Green blood sprayed in all directions.
The slain Sandworm let out a strangled roar before its enormous body collapsed.
But the wanderer had no time to savor victory.
BOOM!
A sudden attack came from below. Another Sandworm burst from the sand, its long, pillar-like tail whipping straight at him.
He raised his sword to block, but the sheer force was overwhelming—he was sent flying, crashing into a massive rock.
CRACK!
The rock shattered into pieces. Dust and sand filled the air.
The wanderer knelt on one knee, breathing lightly. That strike could have crushed an ordinary human, yet he only felt a sharp sting.
His eyes glinted with danger.
Not bad.
He rose to his feet.
The three remaining monsters roared, charging at him all at once.
He smirked.
Then let's end this.
His sword blazed with light.
A brilliant flash tore through the sandstorm.
The wanderer's figure disappeared, leaving only a swirling whirlwind in the desert.
"It's over."
SWISH! SWISH! SWISH!
Three silver arcs sliced through the air.
Three heads tumbled onto the sand—silent.
The wind calmed.
The wanderer stood amidst four fallen behemoths, his sword dripping with green blood.
He exhaled softly, flicking his blade to clear the remaining stains.
The desert returned to silence.
He gazed up at the sky, his expression distant.
"How many more of them are out there?"
No answer. Only wind, sand, and the lifeless bodies of his foes.
He turned away, resuming his journey, leaving behind another closed chapter of battle.
But… what he didn't know was…
SOMEONE WAS WATCHING.