Somewhere in the dunes
A camel-drawn caravan barreled madly across the desert, its wheels cutting deep tracks through the golden sands. Behind it, a swarm of more than a hundred Milos beetles surged in relentless pursuit.
Each beetle was the size of a hound, its sandy-yellow chitin blending perfectly with the desert terrain. Their carapaces reflected the blazing sunlight and served as natural camouflage against the dunes.
At the end of their thick, muscular legs were tufts of coarse black bristles that allowed them to sprint across the sand without sinking under their own weight.
Their massive pincers clicked open and shut with sharp clack-clack sounds, while their mouths emitted shrill, piercing screeches.
"Oil jar! Left cabinet!"
The woman driving the caravan barked the order in a terse voice. Inside the wagon, a young brother and sister reacted instantly. The boy, Ouran, darted to the cabinet, grabbed a bottle of lamp oil and a bundle of cloth.
Methodically, he soaked the cloth in oil and wrapped it around an arrowhead.
Once the fire arrow was lit, he handed it carefully to his sister Jama.
Jama pulled her longbow taut and loosed the flaming arrow toward the swarm.
The moment it struck, seven or eight Milos beetles went up in flames, their shells hissing as they burned.
Ouran grinned in triumph—only for his smile to freeze.
Every beetle suddenly opened its carapace, unfurling translucent wings. In the next instant, the entire swarm took flight, rising like a storm of sand.
Though Milos beetles couldn't fly long distances, short bursts were more than enough.
Within seconds, the flying swarm overtook the caravan, enveloping it like a living sandstorm.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The sound of impacts rained down from above. Inside the wagon, Ouran's face went pale as the wooden frame groaned under the assault.
"Hold on tight!"
Their mother didn't give up. She yanked the reins hard, steering the camels into a sharp left turn.
The wagon tilted violently. Beetles lost footing and slid from the roof, but the sound of scratching and scraping grew louder—more of them were landing.
Then, with a deafening crack, a massive beetle broke through the beams and crashed inside.
Jama lunged at it with her dagger, but the blade barely scratched its armor.
She shoved her brother behind her, brandishing the knife in a desperate attempt to drive it back.
More beetles tore through the roof, raining down with snapping pincers and gnashing jaws.
Ouran crawled beneath the cot, kicking away any mandibles that reached for him.
From his pocket, he pulled out a small, round wooden carving—a handmade talisman he'd whittled during quiet moments.
He gripped it tightly and whispered a prayer through trembling lips.
"Please, Rammus… I'm begging you. Help us, Rammus!"
The beetles' shadows blotted out the light. The entire wagon rocked violently, tossing them about like a boat caught in a hurricane.
Then came the worst—everything tilted sideways. The entire caravan flipped, crashing onto the sands and sliding helplessly across the dune.
Ouran shielded his head as debris rained down, the air thick with dust and the sound of splintering wood.
The impact slammed him against the wall. His ears rang, his vision blurred.
When at last everything fell still, he felt a hand clutch his arm—his mother dragging him out from the wreckage.
Blinding sunlight seared his eyes.
The three of them—mother, son, and daughter—huddled together amidst the ruins of their caravan, coughing through clouds of dust.
Around them, the Milos beetles slowly closed in, eyes glinting with hunger and bloodlust.
One lunged forward—only for Ouran's mother to thrust her weapon straight into the soft spot between its jaws.
"Come on then, you filthy pests!!"
She ripped her weapon free and drove it again into another beetle that lunged at Jama. Foul-smelling blood spattered across the sand.
A mother's strength—fragile in peace, fierce beyond measure in defense of her children.
But a third beetle leapt from the wreckage, landing behind them and cutting off their escape.
Jama screamed as its pincer clamped down on her leg.
"Aahhh!!"
And then—everything changed.
From the western horizon, a violent gust tore across the desert, carrying sand and grit. Within that storm, a faint shadow streaked toward them—fast, heavy, unstoppable.
The swarm froze.
Every beetle flattened itself against the sand, antennae curling tightly as though facing a natural predator.
They trembled. None dared move.
Ouran blinked in confusion, following their gaze.
Something yellow—a spinning blur—rushed toward them, crashing straight into the swarm.
Jama and her mother raised their weapons, ready to face this new threat.
Born of the desert, they were unyielding; even at death's door, they would not surrender.
But then, to their astonishment, the figure tore through the swarm like a rolling boulder, crushing every beetle in its path.
Left and right it weaved, a blur of destruction. In mere seconds, the swarm was gone—nothing left but mangled shells and twitching limbs.
Only then did they see the creature clearly.
It was round and armored, covered in sharp spikes. Intricate patterns and spiral scales etched its shell, and beneath a pair of gentle eyes was a small, calm smile. Its claws gleamed like blades.
Jama and her mother exchanged stunned glances.
"Could it be…"
"Rammus!!" Ouran cried out, joy bursting in his chest as he sprinted toward his hero.
Rammus didn't answer. He simply picked up a beetle leg, stuffed it into his mouth, and began chewing contentedly.
At that moment, a strange vehicle rolled up beside them—a four-wheeled car, moving without any camels to pull it. Three women and one man stepped out.
"That speed…"
Duke looked at the dashboard—the numbers had peaked at eight hundred kilometers per hour, nearly the speed of a passenger jet.
And still, they couldn't catch up to that armored turtle.
"What the hell is this thing made of?" he muttered. "Six pairs of speed boots equipped?"
He activated his camera to record Rammus and stepped out. Taliyah and Sivir followed, their faces pale.
Sivir, who had prided herself on her driving, felt weak at the knees. After Duke had taken control, the car's acceleration had gone beyond reason—she felt dizzy, nauseous, and utterly drained.
Taliyah fared no better. The little sparrow dropped to her knees the moment she got out, retching into the sand.
"You are…?"
Ouran's mother looked from Rammus to the strangers who had suddenly appeared.
"Water and shade to you," she greeted them cautiously, then turned to Taliyah after a brief assessment.
Taliyah forced a weak smile. "Water and shade to you."
"Are you pilgrims of Rammus?" the woman asked softly.
Taliyah glanced at Duke—busy circling Rammus—and replied gently, "No, we're travelers. We met Rammus on the road and followed him here."
The woman frowned. "You don't look well."
"Just car sickness," Taliyah said, waving it off. "I'll be fine after some rest."
"Kai'Sa, grab me a cold drink," she called.
A moment later, a chilled bottle flew from the car into her hands. She cracked it open, took a sip, and sighed in relief.
Noticing the woman and her daughter eyeing the bottle curiously, Taliyah smiled and gestured for Kai'Sa to fetch a few more, handing them over.
They began to talk.
Meanwhile, Duke crouched beside Rammus, studying him intently.
Ouran stood nearby, eyes wide in awe—three steps away, trembling like a fan before his idol.
Duke, on the other hand, felt no fear. Rammus might look intimidating, but his calm eyes and patient stillness reminded Duke of an old farm ox—steady, enduring, immovable as the earth itself.
He could bear anything. Endure everything.
Crunch, crunch—
Rammus continued munching on a beetle leg, glancing at Duke before losing interest.
Duke circled him, analyzing every detail. His divine prosthetic eye glowed faintly, scanning and recording as his camera whirred beside him.
Running his hand along the turtle's spiked shell, Duke felt the sharpness of the barbs and the rough spiral texture beneath.
"Fascinating," he murmured.
The armored dragon turtle's internal structure was extraordinary. Even setting aside the magical aura pulsing within, the shell alone could occupy Duke's research for months.
"Kid," Duke called to Ouran without looking up, "want a picture with him?"
Ouran froze mid-step, hesitant but eager.
Duke, after slipping a data chip discreetly between Rammus's shell plates, turned and smiled.
"Go on, ask him yourself."
Ouran glanced up nervously. "Is… is it okay?"
Duke raised his camera. "He didn't say no. That's a yes in my book."
He waved the boy over, snapped the photo, and Rammus—utterly unbothered—picked up another beetle leg and kept chewing.
Just then, Taliyah called out, "Duke! Mrs. Maggie says she's seen your friend before!"
Duke's head whipped around. "You mean Viktor?"
"Yes. I showed her Viktor's photo, and she said she's met him!"
End of chapter....
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