The brief, hard-won peace following the "blood and sweat" hell-missions lasted a mere two days before the tranquility of dawn was shattered by a piercing alarm. In the canteen, utensils were still mid-air when Ester stumbled in, her face pale with terror.
"Everyone... it's bad! 'That thing' in South Sector 2... it's back!"
The air froze instantly.
The original residents of the South Sector—the cunning C-Rank sand-beast Shadow Shifters known as Sand Maulers—were currently surging across the wasteland like a golden torrent from the depths of hell. They had once vanished, suppressed by the absolute martial might of the Steel General, but now they were emboldened by the return of their leader. The very one who had once "fled" to avoid the General's blade was back to wash away its humiliation: the dread-inducing B Plus-Rank Domain Lord, Desert Tyrant.
As the warriors gathered in the Command Center with grim expressions, their phones vibrated in unison. A pale blue mission list flickered onto their screens:
[B PLUS-RANK AREA LIBERATION MISSION: NOVA STAR TOWN, SOUTH SECTOR 2]
[Objective: Slain the Domain Lord Desert Tyrant (0/1)]
Rewards:
16,000 LP
Enhancement Core B x7
Power Core B x7,
Tyrant's Hardened Carapace x2
Tyrant's Venomous Fang x2
Tyrant's Venom Sac x1
Tyrant's Giant Severed Foot x2
{Mystic Summoner} Armor Blueprint x1
{Firm Soul} Armor Blueprint x1
Ester's slender hands were clenched tightly against her chest, her knuckles white. On the main screen, real-time satellite footage played silently, sending chills down the spines of everyone present. There were no crumbling ruins or tragic battle remains. As far as the eye could see, there was only a deathly, barren, lifeless golden desert. Compared to the recognizable street outlines of a few days ago, South Sector 2 now looked as if an entire segment of civilization had been wiped away by a god and buried under the sand.
"It's only been two days... and it already looks like this?" Dodge stared at the screen, a vein throbbing in his temple. "When we fought the Steel General, we could at least see the pavement. Now? Aside from wind and sand, there isn't even a blade of grass left!"
"Because it is a walking disaster in itself." Ester swiped her fingers across the console, pulling up a high-energy warning clip. "That thing carries a 'Powerful Sandification Domain.' Look!"
The footage zoomed in. Suddenly, several meters of sand erupted from beneath the solid asphalt like a whale breaching water. A suffocatingly massive shadow glided at high speed beneath the surface; everywhere it passed, grand buildings crumbled like fragile sandcastles, weathering instantly before being torn apart by the gale. Once the monster claimed an area, the raging dust settled into a deathly still, endless wasteland.
Emma idly twirled her fiery red ponytail, though her voice carried a chill. "Hey, that 'Big Sand Whale' underground... that's our target? If we walk in there, won't we turn into exquisite sand sculptures instantly?"
"Exactly," Victor nodded like a bobblehead, laughing bitterly. "I think my {Furious Shark} would turn into 'Swift Sand' and blow away before I even reached its feet."
Valerie, ever the supportive partner, clenched her fists in front of her chest. "My {Blaze Punch} would probably turn into 'Sand-Pot Soup' before I could even take a swing."
"Dammit! The monster hasn't even shown its face and you guys are already preparing the 'funeral service'?" Dodge clutched his blonde hair, ranting like a madman.
Phyllis, who had been silent, focused her gaze and added, "Um... Mr. Dodge, seeing your confident expression, perhaps you already have a strategy? Or does your armor come with a high-end anti-sand coating?"
Dodge snorted, giving a magnificent, theatrical turn to show his broad back to the group. He struck a pose worthy of a light novel cover, looking as if he were about to utter a world-saving declaration.
"Of course—"
The Command Center fell silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the tactical miracle that would turn the tide. However, the "cool factor" lasted less than three seconds. Under everyone's gaze, Dodge naturally transitioned into a "cool" crouch in the corner, drawing circles on the floor while muttering in a tiny, mosquito-like voice:
"—I don't."
The deathly silence was broken by a cacophony of angry roars and the sound of a beating. Dodge, having successfully taunted the entire room, was pummeled and tossed out the door.
On the edge of the chaos, George and Luther—the long-range specialists—remained mysteriously silent. They leaned against the wall like they were watching a farcical play. To them, it didn't matter if the Desert Tyrant could turn into sand; from the perspective of long-range armor, it was just a "giant target too big to miss."
Ester shook her aching hands and looked at the remaining "elites." "Alright, the nuisance has been cleared out. So—do you have any actual plans?"
The response was a unified wall of silence. The warriors spread their hands simultaneously, wearing the classic "Who am I? Where am I? What do I do?" expressions. Whenever they entered this collective "system crash" state, their minds instinctively triggered a passive skill: summoning that familiar figure—the Ten-Year Veteran who never loses.
Meanwhile, in the hallway outside.
Lawson was striding toward them, his hair a bird's nest of tangles, accompanied by Katie. Though his posture was upright, his expression was that of a "degenerate uncle" on the verge of a breakdown after being woken up too early. He scrambled to put on his signature white coat as he walked, his collar askew from the haste.
Suddenly, a golden blur streaked toward them—the "Dodge-brand" human heavy truck was flying right at them.
"Danger!"
Katie's eyes narrowed as she instantly activated her [Eye of Omnipotence]. Predicting the trajectory with pinpoint accuracy, she shoved Lawson to the side with one hand, leaped lightly, and snatched the "offender" out of the air like an eagle catching a chick. She followed up with a textbook-perfect spin and landed steadily. Lawson, having narrowly escaped death, curled up in the corner like a traumatized small animal, peeking out with half a head and clapping his hands in relief.
The Command Center doors slid open. Katie dragged Dodge across the floor like a sack of rags. Lawson finally caught his breath and stepped inside, the hem of his white coat fluttering in the draft. Despite his messy hair, he carried a strange, holy aura of irritation. Ester stared at his disheveled state for half a second before she finally burst out laughing.
"Is this our spirited Lawson? Why do you look like a middle-aged loser today? Is 'Uncle-Core' the new fashion trend at the base?"
Lawson's face fell instantly. He let out a massive yawn, his eyes dark enough to drip ink.
"Don't even start... those goddamn Maulers. From the night before last until last night, those brutes have been scurrying underground like they're renovating a basement. My cursed passive skill, [Steel Instinct of the Armor God], automatically triggers an error every time it senses the metal components in their carapaces... I spent the whole night with red coordinate dots flashing in my brain!"
His expression suddenly surged with energy. He clenched his fist and slammed it against the metal wall, creating an ear-splitting boom.
"I am going to tear down their nest today! I'm wiping out every single one of those hateful red dots!"