Alex followed Arte reluctantly, his footsteps echoing through the hollow tunnels of the abandoned factory. Every sound bounced off the metal walls like the building was personally mocking him for being here.
The air was stale and thick, filled with the scent of rust and ancient dust. Broken machines loomed in the darkness like metallic skeletons, twisted and forgotten. Shadows clung to the corners like they were waiting for an excuse to jump-scare him.
"Why here?" Alex muttered, hugging his arms tightly to his body.
Arte trotted ahead with the confidence of someone who owned the place. His tail swayed from side to side like a metronome of judgment.
"Because it's empty," Arte replied. "Quiet. And no one will see what happens next."
Alex stiffened.
"Next?" he repeated, voice pitching into the nervous zone.
Arte stopped in the center of a wide, cracked concrete floor. Oil stains formed misshapen circles under Alex's boots, like the ground itself was warning him to turn back.
Then—
Arte raised one paw…
…and tapped the ground.
Just a tap.
But somehow that tiny cat paw held more destructive power than Alex's entire life.
A ripple of black light burst from the point of contact, racing outward like a shockwave. Tiles cracked, the air warped, and a swirling shape clawed its way into existence from the broken floor—twisting upward like black silk being shredded by invisible hands.
A portal.
Dark.
Silent.
Uninviting.
Filled with the exact kind of energy that said: Welcome to your doom.
Alex immediately took three steps back.
"Nope. Nope. NOPE. Absolutely not," he said, shaking his head so fast he nearly got whiplash.
Arte glanced back at him, unimpressed.
"You have to go in."
"No," Alex said firmly, raising a hand like he was stopping traffic. "I'm not stepping into… into that doom hole! That is a certified horror-movie entrance! I will not die in 4K!"
Arte sighed dramatically, the kind of sigh that said he was seconds away from requesting a refund on Alex's existence.
"Humans," he muttered, "are so dramatic."
Alex jabbed a finger at the portal.
"That thing is literally glowing with dark energy!"
"It's a basic training gate."
"Basic for WHO?! Satan?!"
Arte blinked slowly.
"…Honestly, compared to you, he'd be easier to teach."
"HEY!" Alex shouted, voice cracking like shattered glass.
But the cat just turned back to the portal like this was all perfectly reasonable.
Meanwhile, Alex mentally wrote his will.
Alex backed up even farther, hands raised like he was defending himself from a wild animal instead of a smug housecat.
"I'm serious! You said I needed training—not teleportation into a death trap!"
"You will be fine," Arte said calmly. Too calmly. Suspiciously calmly.
Then added, "Probably."
"Probably?!" Alex's voice cracked so hard it ricocheted off the factory walls.
Arte swished his tail with the dramatic flair of someone who had absolutely run out of patience. "Okay. You leave me no choice."
Alex blinked. "Wait—what do you mean by no choi—"
He didn't get to finish.
Arte darted behind him like a tiny furry missile and shoved him with an impossible amount of force. Alex made a sound that was half-yelp, half-betrayed gasp as his arms pinwheeled wildly.
"No—NO—ARTE, YOU LITTLE—!"
He fell forward, straight into the swirling darkness.
Reality vanished.
For a moment, there was nothing.
No sound.
No air.
No sensation.
Just cold emptiness swallowing him like a giant cosmic mouth.
Then—
Gravity returned with violent enthusiasm.
Alex shot out of the air and crashed face-first into sand.
"Ugh—!" he sputtered, spitting out half a beach. "Ptooi—blegh—why does the universe hate me?!"
He lay there for a moment, limbs spread like a tragic starfish, wondering if this was a good time to fake his own death—again, but more convincingly.
Behind him, the portal snapped shut with a fwoop.
Arte landed lightly on the sand beside him, completely unharmed, looking like a cat who just stepped off a luxury elevator.
"Congratulations," Arte said. "You survived your first portal."
Alex groaned into the sand, muffled and miserable.
"Arte," he said weakly, "I swear when I regain my strength, I'm going to gently push you off a table."
Arte blinked.
"You say that as if I don't push myself off tables on purpose."
Alex whimpered into the ground.
He was definitely not built for this.
He spat out gray grains, coughing violently as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. The sand tasted like sadness and old charcoal.
When he finally pushed himself up and lifted his head, the sight before him snatched the rest of his breath away.
A vast desert stretched endlessly in every direction.
But it wasn't gold.
It wasn't warm.
It wasn't even alive.
The sand was gray—dull, lifeless, like powdered stone from a world that had already given up. The wind brushed past him gently, but instead of warmth, it carried more gray dust that immediately coated his hair, his clothes, his soul, and probably his future.
Above him, the sky wasn't blue or bright.
It was a sheet of pale gray clouds, swirling slowly, heavy and suffocating, with no sunlight, no warmth, not even the tiniest hint of hope.
Alex stood slowly, turning in a full circle as though checking to see if color existed somewhere behind him.
"What is this place…?" he whispered, voice small.
In the far distance, barely visible through the drifting haze, he saw the faint silhouette of a city. Tall structures. Crooked towers. Some leaning like they'd given up halfway. A place that once stood proud—but now looked drained of its color, its life, its hope.
Arte stepped beside him, emerging from the fading portal with the smug grace of someone stepping off a private jet.
"Welcome to the Ashen Dunes," Arte announced.
Alex glared at him—weakly, because he was currently ninety percent disbelief and ten percent sand.
"You pushed me."
"You weren't going to jump," Arte replied with absolute confidence. "Training requires commitment."
"I would've committed eventually!" Alex shot back. "With a countdown! And maybe a blindfold! And emotional support!"
Arte flicked his tail dismissively. "Humans require too many accessories."
Alex threw his arms out toward the gray wasteland.
"This looks like hell's waiting room!"
Arte didn't even blink. "It used to be a golden oasis, with crystal water and warm sands. A paradise… before the gods abandoned the world."
His voice softened—just slightly—with something almost like sorrow.
"When they left, the life drained out. The color died first. Then the sun. Now it is one of many gray lands."
Alex stared at the sand, horrified.
"So the gods rage-quit the world and this is what happens?!"
Arte sighed.
"Please do not make it sound like a video game."
Alex pointed at the sky.
"A desert with no sunlight IS a video game level!"
Arte's tail curled irritably.
"You are being dramatic again."
"YES," Alex snapped, "BECAUSE I'M IN A POST-APOCALYPTIC COLORLESS DESERT AFTER BEING ASSAULTED BY A PORTAL!"
Arte blinked.
"…This is going to be a long day."
Alex groaned into his hands.
This training was already killing him.
Emotionally.
Spiritually.
And possibly literally.
Alex stared down at the sand beneath his boots, watching the gray grains shift and slide like lifeless ashes.
"This whole world is dying," he whispered.
"There are still places preserved," Arte replied calmly. "But you're not ready for those."
Alex frowned, torn between confusion and rising terror.
"Ready for what?"
The ground answered for him.
A faint tremor rolled under his feet.
The sand vibrated.
Alex stumbled backward.
"What now—? Why is everything in this place shaking?!"
A deep, rumbling growl rose from beneath the sand, so loud the air itself seemed to tighten.
Then—
CRACK!
The ground split open like a gigantic zipper, and a monstrous creature exploded upward, flinging sand everywhere.
Alex screamed.
A scorpion—no, a nightmare pretending to be a scorpion—rose from the earth. It was easily twice the size of a car. Its exoskeleton looked like cracked gray stone, jagged and sharp enough to slice steel. Sickly white light glowed from its empty, hollow eyes.
Its pincers clamped open and shut with a metallic scrape, each snap sounding like a guillotine deciding someone's fate.
But worst of all—
It had three tails.
Each one dripping thick, dark venom that sizzled when it hit the sand.
Alex's blood evaporated.
"NOPE. NOPE. NOOOOOPE. ARTE, YOU BETTER—YOU BETTER FIX THIS!"
Arte, with the emotional concern of a cat watching a bug, calmly hopped onto a nearby rock.
He then lay down, crossed his front paws, and looked perfectly comfortable.
"Your training begins now," Arte said.
Alex pointed frantically at the monster.
"THAT?! THAT THING?! FOR TRAINING?!"
Arte nodded.
"Yes."
"I DON'T EVEN HAVE A WEAPON!"
"You have your instincts," Arte replied smoothly.
"My instincts are telling me to RUN!"
"Well," Arte said with a yawn, "run in a circle. The creature enjoys a chase."
"ARTE, I SWEAR—!"
But the scorpion raised its three tails, venom dripping like nightmare sweat…
…and Alex realized this desert was absolutely committed to killing him first thing in the morning.
This was, officially, the worst day of his entire life.
Alex's jaw dropped so far it almost hit the sand.
"WHAT KIND OF TRAINING IS THIS?!"
"The kind that will keep you alive," Arte replied calmly. "Don't die."
"That's NOT helpful!"
The giant scorpion screeched, the sound like metal grinding against metal. All three tails lifted high, dripping venom that hissed angrily when it touched the air.
Alex did the only thing his brain could manage—
He ran.
He didn't think.
He didn't plan.
He didn't even breathe properly.
He just spun around in a wide, panicked circle, kicking up huge clouds of gray sand behind him as the monster lunged after him like a very enthusiastic murder machine.
The ground trembled with every step of the creature. Its tails stabbed the sand in rapid-fire strikes, thunk-thunk-THUNK, each one a near-death experience.
One tail slammed into the ground an inch from Alex's boot, launching sand straight up into his face.
"BLEGH—PHAAH—NO FAIR!" he gagged, wiping his mouth as he ran for dear life.
"ARTE, DO SOMETHING!" Alex screamed, voice cracking into high-pitched despair.
Arte, meanwhile, was grooming his paw like he was on vacation.
"This is important," the cat said, licking between his toes. "You must learn how to survive. Your instincts will awaken."
"MY INSTINCT IS TO RUN!"
"Good," Arte replied, utterly unbothered. "Then run faster."
"FASTER?! HOW MUCH FASTER DO YOU THINK I CAN GO?! I'M NOT A Cheetah—I don't have—WHOA—!"
Alex swerved left at the last second, nearly face-planting into a small dune.
The scorpion lunged, snapping its giant pincers so close he felt the wind brush his shirt.
"OH COME ON!" Alex shrieked, kicking at the sand as he scrambled away.
He flailed his arms as he ran, looking less like a warrior and more like a man who had just been dropped into a nightmare-themed treadmill.
Behind him, the monster screeched again and charged, tails whipping violently.
Arte watched it all with half-lidded eyes and a quiet sigh.
"This," Arte muttered to himself, "is exactly why my master told me to be patient."
Meanwhile, Alex was busy discovering new levels of panic he didn't know were humanly possible.
"ARTEEEEE!"
Another tail stabbed into the ground behind him—another explosion of sand blasting him forward like a sad, terrified rocket.
Alex stumbled, nearly kissed the ground, but somehow managed to keep running. His lungs burned. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it was trying to escape his chest and leave his body behind to die alone.
"You're doing well," Arte called out cheerfully. "Don't let it poke you. The venom will melt your insides."
"CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK, PLEASE!" Alex screamed, voice hitting frequencies only dogs should hear.
Arte flicked his tail.
"Try not to die. That's constructive."
"THAT IS NOT—!"
Before he could finish, one of the scorpion's three tails whipped over his head with a sharp, slicing whistle.
Alex yelped, ducked, and rolled across the sand in a dramatic tumble that looked more like he tripped on his own fear. Gray dust filled his mouth again.
He popped back onto his feet, wobbling like a freshly born deer.
The creature lunged again, claws clamping shut with a metallic CLANG that echoed across the empty dunes.
Sweat rolled down Alex's face.
His legs trembled like they were about to file for retirement.
He couldn't keep running forever.
He could barely keep running for another thirty seconds.
On his rock, Arte watched with the enthusiasm of someone enjoying a front-row seat at a chaotic comedy show.
"Come on, Alex! Feel your power! Reach deep! A Soul Harvester must learn how to summon strength under pressure!"
"I DON'T KNOW HOW!" Alex wheezed.
"You will. Keep going!"
The scorpion slammed a pincer into the sand, releasing a shockwave that rippled under Alex's feet.
He stumbled, dropped to one knee—
" Nononono—!"
—and threw himself sideways just as another tail stabbed into the spot where his head had been.
The impact rattled the ground, rattled the air, and rattled Alex's bones like they were loose dice inside his body.
He gasped and looked up—
And found himself directly beneath the towering creature.
Its three tails rose slowly.
All aimed at him.
All dripping venom.
All ready to turn him into a tragic desert stain.
Alex's vision blurred around the edges.
His heartbeat warped, the rhythm shifting—
Thump.
Thump-thump.
Thump.
Heat built in his chest, rising like a second heartbeat—hotter, heavier, more powerful.
Not human.
Not normal.
Something… ancient.
Strength pulsed through him, crawling down his arms, buzzing beneath his skin.
Far away, Arte's eyes narrowed with satisfaction.
"Good," he murmured. "There it is."
Alex didn't know what "it" was.
But he hoped—desperately—that whatever it was…
could punch a three-tailed scorpion in the face.
Xxxxxx
The air around Alex vibrated—a deep, thrumming pulse that crawled across his skin like static electricity waking up. The sound wasn't loud, but it felt huge, spreading from his chest down into the ground beneath his feet.
His breath hitched.
"Wh—what is—?"
Something cold stirred inside him…
Like fingers breaking the surface of dark water.
Slow. Heavy.
Rising.
The scorpion screeched and lunged again, all three venomous tails slicing through the air with deadly precision.
Alex lifted his hand.
Not confidently.
Not heroically.
Not because he had a plan.
He lifted it because instinct—and pure panic—grabbed his arm and yanked it upward like, Do something, idiot!
And then—
The sand around his feet shifted, spiraling outward.
The shadows behind him twisted, stretching as if pulled by invisible strings. They rose like dark smoke, curling up his legs, coiling around his arms, flickering like flames made of night.
Alex stared at himself.
"Okay, okay, WHAT IS THIS—AM I SUMMONING A DEMON OR HAVING A PANIC ATTACK?!"
The scorpion didn't care.
It kept charging.
Arte, still lying on his rock like a bored emperor, flicked an ear.
"Finally," he said. "Took you long enough."
Alex shot him a hysterical glare.
"NOT HELPING!"
But the shadows didn't care about his emotional state.
They surged.
They lifted.
They coiled up Alex's back and snapped forward in a wave of dark energy just as the three tails came crashing down toward him—
And Alex felt something inside him click, like a lock turning for the first time in his life.
And then—
A shape erupted from the ground beside him, kicking up a swirl of gray dust.
Alex nearly screamed.
A pale, ghost-like figure rose from the sand—stretching upward like it was pulled from the earth by invisible strings.
It wasn't human.
It wasn't a Soul Walker.
It looked like something caught in between.
A faceless, translucent being formed from dust and faint white light. Its body was tall and skeletal, its arms long and wispy—ending in claws made of curved smoke. Its entire figure flickered like it was only half in this world.
Alex's knees almost collapsed under him.
He definitely did not summon this consciously, but the thing stood right beside him…
waiting.
Breathing.
Hovering.
Like it was listening for his command.
"W-What… what is that?!" Alex gasped, voice breaking like cheap glass.
On his rock, Arte's eyes widened—just slightly, which for him was the equivalent of a full gasp.
"A Wraith Servant…?" he hummed. "Huh. You're awakening fast."
"THAT DOESN'T HELP ME RIGHT NOW!" Alex squeaked.
The scorpion screeched, its three tails whipping behind it like angry ropes.
Alex didn't know what else to do. He didn't know any spells, battle commands, or instructions. But panic shoved a word out of him anyway:
"Attack!"
The Wraith moved the instant the word left his mouth.
It launched forward, gliding across the sand with unnatural speed, its clawed arms stretching wide. The ghost lunged straight for the scorpion—
But the scorpion reacted fast.
Too fast.
It jerked left with startling agility, the Wraith's claws slicing nothing but empty air. Its massive body twisted away, sand spraying behind it as it dodged the strike.
One of its tails lashed out, stabbing toward the ghost.
The stinger passed straight through the Wraith's body—harmless—but the Wraith flickered violently, like static on a broken TV screen.
Alex's eyes widened.
"It missed…!"
Arte clicked his tongue in pure disappointment.
"Of course it missed. You're not controlling it properly yet."
"What does that even mean?!"
Arte lifted a paw and pointed at Alex dramatically.
"The summon mirrors your fear. And right now, Alex…" His golden eyes narrowed. "You're terrified."
"I AM terrified!" Alex yelled back. "IT'S TRYING TO KILL ME!"
"Yes," Arte said calmly. "And your ghost will keep missing until you direct it properly."
Alex stared at the Wraith, which was now hovering awkwardly in place like a confused intern waiting for instructions.
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DIRECT IT?!" he cried.
Arte shrugged.
"You're the Harvester. Figure it out."
"ARTE, THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR SPIRITUAL SELF-DISCOVERY!"
But the cat simply settled more comfortably on his rock, tail curled, eyes sharp.
"Then learn fast," Arte said. "Because it's coming again."
Alex turned—
The scorpion was already lunging.
All three tails aimed straight at him.
And his Wraith flickered, waiting.
Depending completely on him.
Whether that was hopeful—or a terrible mistake—was still up for debate.
Alex's chest rose and fell in fast, shaky breaths. His heart hammered in his ears, but he forced himself to look—really look—at the monster trying to kill him.
He had to focus.
He needed a plan.
He needed… something other than running in circles and screaming.
The scorpion screeched and charged again, gray sand flying everywhere. All three tails rose above its body, glowing faintly with deadly venom.
Alex backed up so fast he nearly tripped.
"I can't outrun it forever!"
Arte scratched behind his ear, looking like he was watching a mildly interesting cooking show.
"You won't need to if you use your brain. Think. The scorpion is fast. But not everywhere."
Alex blinked through the dust, slapping sand off his face.
"What do you mean—not everywhere?! It looks fast in ALL directions!"
Arte flicked his tail toward the monster.
"Look at it. Really look."
Alex hesitated… then forced his panic to shut up for three whole seconds.
He stared at the creature as it lunged, circled, snapped its pincers, and whipped its three tails.
Its front pincers—fast.
Its tails—deadly and unpredictable.
Its legs—quick and sharp.
But its abdomen…
Alex squinted.
"That part barely moves…" he whispered.
It was the only section that stayed mostly still, weighed down like heavy stone. The giant scorpion's agility came from its front half—its back half dragged slightly, slower, clunkier.
Arte nodded approvingly.
"Good. You've located its weakness. Now aim for it."
"Aim what?!" Alex sputtered. "My hopes and dreams?!"
"The ghost, you fool," Arte said bluntly.
Alex looked at his Wraith Servant, which was floating beside him like a confused jellyfish waiting for orders.
He pointed at the scorpion's slow-moving abdomen.
"O-Okay! Wraith—there! Attack the back!"
The ghost tilted its head—if it even had one—then turned sharply toward the scorpion.
Alex swallowed hard.
Here goes nothing.
Or… hopefully not his life.
The scorpion screeched again, rearing its front half—
—and the Wraith launched forward.
"Go behind it. Aim for the lower body!"
The Wraith shimmered—its form rippling like disturbed water.
And then it obeyed.
It shot across the sand again, but this time it didn't charge straight for the monster's face. It swerved—circling wide, gliding with unnatural speed, its body bending with the wind like living smoke.
The scorpion whipped its glowing white eyes toward the movement, screeching in frustration. Two of its tails lashed out—
SHHHHKK!
They sliced through air where the Wraith had been.
But the ghost flickered, vanishing into the sand like a shadow melting into the ground—
—and reappearing behind the scorpion's back, right where Alex had told it to go.
Alex's eyes widened.
"It worked!"
Arte smirked, tail flicking with smug approval.
"See? Not useless."
The scorpion shrieked and twisted its entire body, pincers snapping wildly, tails flailing in a frantic attempt to guard its unprotected rear—
But it couldn't move fast enough.
The Wraith lifted both elongated hands—
Its claws stretched—
Twisted—
Then fused into a single massive blade of pale mist.
Alex's breath caught.
And then the Wraith struck downward.
The blow didn't kill the scorpion—not even close—but the mist blade pierced through its armored gray abdomen. The creature screeched in agony, its entire body convulsing violently. Sand exploded in every direction as it thrashed.
Alex stumbled backward, heart trying to escape through his ribcage.
Arte stretched lazily like a housecat waking from a nap, completely unfazed by the skyscraper-sized death insect having a meltdown in front of them.
"That's a start," Arte said with a casual shrug. "But clearly…"
The ground trembled beneath them as the scorpion's rage grew.
"…you'll need a lot more life-and-death scenarios."
Alex's face drained of all color.
"A-Arte—don't you dare—"
But Arte hopped off his rock, tail flicking as he pointed directly at the monster.
"You heard me!" Arte yelled at the beast. "Try harder!"
The scorpion turned sharply, venom dripping, rage renewed—
and focused its entire murderous attention on Alex.
Alex screamed, voice gone shrill,
"ARTE, STOP HELPING THE MONSTER!"
Arte sat back down, tucking his paws neatly under him like he was about to enjoy a dessert.
"Keep thinking, Alex. You're figuring it out."
The scorpion lunged—faster, angrier, deadlier than ever.
The scorpion screeched so loudly the air itself vibrated. Its jagged stone-like legs carved deep trenches into the sand as it braced to strike, venom dripping from all three tails in thick, steaming drops.
Then—
Another roar answered it.
Alex froze mid-breath.
Out of the sand to his left, the ground ruptured like something inside was punching its way out.
A second scorpion burst upward, flinging sand everywhere. It was smaller than the first—but only in the way a shark is "smaller" than a whale. Its tails clicked together like sharpened bones knocking in rhythm, and its gray armor gleamed with dust as it hauled itself fully onto the surface.
Alex stared.
Then stared harder.
Then felt his soul quietly attempt to eject itself.
TWO.
There were two of them.
His heart didn't just sink.
It plummeted.
It bailed out of his ribcage and hitchhiked to another galaxy.
He stumbled backward, three shaky, horrified steps.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" he screamed at Arte. "THERE ARE TWO NOW?!"
Arte, looking like this was the most boring thing in the world, calmly licked his paw.
"Deserts like these always have more than one," he said casually. "Scorpions are territorial. They come when another roars."
Alex pointed wildly at the monsters.
"THAT'S EXACTLY THE INFORMATION YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME BEFORE WE CAME HERE!"
Arte shrugged.
"You didn't ask earlier."
Alex's left eye twitched violently.
The first scorpion lifted all three tails, casting a massive shadow over Alex.
Sand trembled.
Alex's pulse thundered.
Instinctively, he dropped into a low stance, breath shuddering, sweat dripping down his temples. The second scorpion skittered sideways, pincers clicking like a countdown to his funeral.
He needed another ghost.
Another Wraith.
Another anything.
He needed that surge—
the cold current rising from deep inside—
the pull that had dragged the first Wraith from the shadows.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Focused.
Reached inward, trying to drag that power up from the very bottom of his gut.
…
…
Nothing.
No surge.
No chill.
No whisper of power.
Just pure, unfiltered panic.
Alex's eyes snapped open.
"No—no, no, NO—COME ON! Work! Do the thing! DO THE THING!"
Arte hopped down from his rock and sat closer—still completely relaxed.
"You're too unfocused," Arte said. "You're panicking."
"OF COURSE I'M PANICKING!" Alex shouted. "THERE ARE TWO GIANT MURDER SCORPIONS TRYING TO TURN ME INTO A GRAY PUDDLE!"
Arte nodded like this was very reasonable.
"Yes. And panic makes your power scatter. Calm down."
"CALM—DOWN?!"
Alex shrieked, gesturing at the monsters.
"WITH THAT IN FRONT OF ME?!"
The first scorpion screeched again, tails raised high in a deadly arc.
Alex gulped.
The second scorpion tensed, preparing to pounce.
He clenched his fists harder—so tight his knuckles went white.
The air around him trembled, a faint vibration like something was trying to wake up.
But it only lasted a second.
Then the pressure fizzled out like a dying candle flame, leaving nothing.
"No… no, no, no—" Alex whispered, breath speeding up. "Come on… come ON—!"
He thrust his hand outward, trying to command the world through sheer desperation.
Nothing happened.
Not a spark.
Not a flicker.
Not even a dramatic breeze.
He dug his nails into his palm, hard enough to sting, trying to force the sensation, force the connection, force anything—
Still nothing.
His chest tightened in painful, crushing waves.
Fear drowned out instinct.
Panic smothered every thought.
The ground trembled again—
louder.
Heavier.
Closer.
He opened his eyes—
And the first scorpion was already on top of him.
Its massive shadow swallowed him whole.
All three venomous tails curved above its body and aimed straight at Alex's heart—
poised, trembling, ready to strike like three spears of pure death.
The second scorpion skittered to his right, pincers clacking like sharpened bones, positioning itself perfectly.
It waited, coiled, ready to tear him apart the moment he moved.
Alex stood frozen between them—
two monsters closing in.
Powerless.
Alone.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
His lungs locked.
His power wasn't coming.
His Wraith flickered uncertainly behind him, unsure without guidance.
For one terrifying moment…
Alex realized—
This time…
He might really die.
His heart hammered.
His throat tightened.
His power wouldn't come.
And he had two monsters barreling toward him now.
This was it.
This was how he died.
Not dramatically.
Not heroically.
But in a gray desert, eaten by scorpions the size of SUVs, while a talking cat criticized his emotions.
He was so done.
Xxxxxx
Alex tripped backward and hit the ground hard, sand exploding around him like a gray firework.
His back slammed into the dunes, knocking the air straight out of his lungs.
"—ngh!"
His vision blurred.
His ears rang.
He sucked in a desperate breath—
Just in time to see the first scorpion tail thrust downward, so close he could feel the venom burning the air.
Alex squeezed his eyes shut.
This was it.
This was how he died.
Stabbed by a desert nightmare while a cat judged him.
But—
A roar split the desert.
Not from the scorpions.
From Arte.
Alex's eyes flew open.
The small cat stood on the rock above, fur bristling, tail puffed to twice its size. His eyes glowed with a fierce, unnatural light—nothing soft or cat-like about it.
Then his mouth opened—
far too wide, wider than any normal cat's anatomy should allow.
And a sound exploded out of him.
A roar.
A deep, monstrous, world-shaking roar that made Alex's bones quiver.
A roar that vibrated through the desert.
A roar that did not belong to a small black cat, but something ancient—something powerful—something terrifying.
Both scorpions froze instantly.
Their tails trembled.
Their legs buckled like they'd forgotten how to stand.
The first scorpion screeched in terror, recoiling.
The second twitched violently, claws shaking.
Then—
Both slammed their tails into the sand and burrowed down with frantic speed.
Sand erupted upward like geysers as they fled.
Within seconds, they vanished beneath the desert, scrambling into the depths like something far worse than Alex was chasing them.
Silence fell hard.
Only the dry wind whispered across the dunes now.
Alex lay on his back, gasping for breath, chest heaving so hard he thought it might pop out. Sweat soaked his clothes. His hands trembled uncontrollably.
He stared up at the dull gray sky, completely stunned.
Arte hopped gracefully off the rock and trotted toward him as if nothing dramatic had just happened.
The cat sat beside Alex's head, flicked his tail, and tapped it against Alex's cheek.
"You failed," Arte said bluntly. "Spectacularly."
Alex rolled his eyes and slapped both hands over his face.
"I know," he groaned. "I KNOW."
"There were two scorpions," Arte added brightly. "You could have died twice."
"STOP ENCOURAGING THE NIGHTMARES!"
Arte shrugged.
"Fear builds instinct. Instinct summons Wraiths. Wraiths bring victory."
Alex dragged himself upright, still panting like he'd run a marathon while being chased by two SUVs with claws.
"Your training method is insane."
"It's effective," Arte replied. "And you were seconds away from becoming dessert. So I intervened."
Alex squinted at him, still shaken.
"You… roared."
Arte's tail lifted proudly.
"Of course. Even desert monsters know not to challenge my voice."
Alex's eyes widened.
"What ARE you?"
Arte's whiskers twitched with amusement.
"You'll learn soon."
He turned and began walking toward the horizon, the gray dunes stretching endlessly around them. He glanced back once.
"Get up. Your training isn't over."
Alex groaned as he pushed to his feet.
"You're trying to kill me…"
"No," Arte said, eyes gleaming like twin golden flames. "I'm trying to make sure nothing else can."
Alex swallowed hard.
His legs felt like wet noodles, but he pushed himself up anyway—only for his knees to buckle and send him face-first back into the gray sand.
He groaned into the ground. "I hate this place…"
Arte padded closer, tail swishing lazily. "Pitiful."
Alex pushed himself onto his elbows, glaring weakly. "What are you looking at?!"
Arte tilted his head, the picture of calm judgment. "You, obviously. And what I see is someone who has survived two whole years in the apocalypse… without learning a single battle skill."
Alex's nose wrinkled. "Wow. Thanks for the support."
"It's not support," Arte corrected. "It's disappointment."
Alex spluttered. "D-disappointment? I survived two years by myself! I scavenged, hid, ran, and dealt with people like Blade Boy! That's survival! Not… not whatever this is!"
Arte hopped onto a rock and sat with one paw lifted elegantly. "Survival skills keep you breathing. Battle skills keep you from looking pathetic while you do it."
Alex threw his hands into the air. "I'm sorry I didn't know I was supposed to be training for some mythical warrior Olympics!"
"You should have," Arte said flatly.
"How?! Who was supposed to tell me?" Alex shouted. "There weren't any pamphlets that said: 'Welcome to the Apocalypse! You may suddenly become a soul-eating monster—please train responsibly!'"
Arte blinked. "That would have been useful."
Alex glared harder. "You think?!"
Arte flicked his tail. "Your sarcasm is improving. Good. You'll need it."
Alex dragged himself to his feet again, legs wobbling like a newborn deer. He clenched his fists.
"You're acting like I should've known I'd get some… some… soul-sucking superpower!"
Arte's whiskers twitched. "Yes."
"No!" Alex jabbed a finger at him. "Nobody told me I'd turn into a walking vacuum for people's souls! Nobody said, 'Hey Alex, don't worry about aging, you'll someday become a judgment machine with death magic!'"
Arte watched him calmly.
Alex continued ranting, voice shaking with a mix of exhaustion and frustration."I didn't know I would awaken anything! I didn't know I'd be hunted by Reptile cannibals ! I didn't know Soul Walkers would suddenly think I'm something special! I didn't know—"
Arte cut in sharply, "Exactly. You didn't know. And ignorance always kills humans."
Alex's mouth snapped shut.
Arte hopped down from the rock, landing softly in the sand. He circled Alex once, tail brushing the ground.
"You survived two years," Arte said, "because you're stubborn and lucky. Not because you're skilled."
Alex swallowed, his throat tight. "So… I'm useless."
"No," Arte said simply. "You're untrained. There's a difference."
Alex looked down at the sand beneath his feet, his shadow trembling.
Arte continued, "You have power now. Real, dangerous power. But without guidance, you'll hurt yourself before you hurt an enemy."
Alex grit his teeth. "Then teach me."
Arte's golden eyes gleamed as the wind stirred the dunes.
"That's why we're here," he said. "In this wasteland. In this place where surviving is harder than breathing."
Alex stood straighter—still trembling, still terrified, but no longer backing down.
"Good," Arte added with a flick of his tail. "Now stop crying in the sand like a dramatic toddler and get ready."
Alex breathed out slowly and nodded.
"Fine," he muttered."But next time a giant scorpion shows up—you fight it."
Arte smirked. "No promises."