Crystals dotted the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the sandy ground.
Peculiar, oval-shaped trees grew from the sand; from a distance, they looked like giant radishes sprouting from the earth.
“Croak!”
A muffled croak echoed.
The sand bulged, and a massive figure burst out, kicking up a cloud of dust.
It was a giant frog the size of a water buffalo. Its brown, mottled skin allowed it to blend almost perfectly with the sand.
Opening its wide mouth, its fleshy red tongue shot out like lightning. Whipping through the air with a damp whoosh, it aimed straight for the dwarf's face.
Dodging purely on instinct, the dwarf lunged aside as the tongue whipped past his cheek.
A wet squelch echoed.
A flash of cold steel.
Rosie had somehow already lunged to the side of the giant frog. Her meteoric iron sword pierced straight through its eye socket, penetrating its brain before she dragged the blade sideways.
The giant frog's body convulsed violently before collapsing heavily onto the sand, its limbs splayed out, completely still.
Panting, the dwarf walked over and kicked the giant frog's corpse. Once he was sure it was dead, he turned to Rosie.
“Nice job. But make it quicker next time. I almost got eaten.”
“It wouldn't matter if you did. This thing has no teeth; it couldn't chew you anyway,” Rosie replied.
As she spoke, she turned her blade over to inspect it.
The blade was covered in tiny pits, with shallow grooves worn into some sections and several noticeable chips along the edge.
She lightly ran her thumb along the edge, feeling the rough, uneven burrs.
“What's wrong?”
The dwarf walked over, leaning in to take a look.
“The sword is badly worn,” Rosie said, pulling her thumb back.
The dwarf studied the blade. “With all the corrosion and impacts this sword has taken, it's already a miracle it has held up this long. It's top-quality stuff.”
“Once we get back to the surface, come with me to the Dwarven Kingdom. I'll introduce you to a master blacksmith. He'll definitely be able to fix it.”
Rosie wiped the sword in the sand a couple of times and sheathed it. “I hope it lasts until then.”
She drew her dagger from her waist and sliced into the base of the giant frog's thigh, beginning to butcher the fresh ingredients that had practically delivered themselves.
These giant frogs were accustomed to hiding in the sand to ambush passing prey, but they didn't seem particularly sensitive to the smell of metal. Consequently, the lucky dwarf was always the one targeted.
However, the giant frog's meat was quite good, especially when roasted. Its two thick hind legs had firm muscle and a thin layer of fat.
Rosie really enjoyed the texture of roasted frog legs—tender and incredibly flavorful.
The dwarf ran over to a nearby radish tree and swung his axe to chop off some branches.
A moment later, he returned with a bundle of branches, tossed them onto the ground, and expertly built a campfire, setting up a simple roasting rack over it.
“This underground world is actually pretty interesting.”
The dwarf sat by the fire, watching the flames slowly grow, a touch of satisfaction in his voice.
Rosie nodded. “It is, but it's also very dangerous.”
“What's danger to a dwarf?” He puffed out his chest. “Dwarves never fear danger or challenges!”
Rosie smiled but didn't reply.
She skinned the two severed frog legs, exposing the pinkish-white meat underneath. Using her dagger, she scored the meat with a few cuts so it would cook through, then placed them on the simple rack above the campfire.
The flames licked the surface of the meat, making a sizzling sound.
Just as she flipped the frog legs, a long, thin, white creature wriggled out of the meat. It squirmed in the firelight, trying to crawl out.
Quick as lightning, Rosie grabbed the parasite and threw it into the fire.
The worm's body made a small pop in the flames, quickly curling up and turning black.
The dwarf stared at the fire, his mouth twitching. “No wonder you never eat raw meat... I'm not eating it either from now on. That's disgusting.”
“I didn't think a dwarf could get disgusted,” Rosie teased, flipping the frog leg over.
“Anyone would find that disgusting,” the dwarf muttered.
“By the way, how much longer until we reach this core area you mentioned?”
Rosie glanced into the distance, her gaze resting on the blurry line where the dark ceiling met the sand.
“It should be soon. The map isn't in my hands, after all, so relying entirely on memory isn't perfectly accurate.”
No sooner had she spoken than a rustling sound echoed from the surrounding sand.
It sounded like countless tiny things crawling rapidly through the dry grains of sand.
Beneath her helmet, Rosie's face paled. “Those damn caterpillars... not again...”
“It must be the smell of the giant frog,” the dwarf said, standing up. “I'll lead them away. You keep roasting.”
Before Rosie could say a word, the dwarf sprinted over to the giant frog's carcass, grabbed the bloody, half-butchered body, and dragged it toward where the rustling was loudest.
A moment later, the dwarf saw a swarm of black caterpillars, each as thick as an adult's arm, surging toward him.
They were pitch-black, their plump bodies covered in dense bristles. Their mouthparts opened and closed, revealing tiny, serrated teeth. Thousands of them wriggled in unison, forming a flowing black tide across the sand.
With a loud shout, the dwarf swung his arms and hurled the giant frog's carcass toward the caterpillars.
The carcass arched through the air, landing right in the middle of the swarm and kicking up a small cloud of sand.
The swarm of black caterpillars instantly converged, crawling over one another until they completely blanketed the carcass.
Usually, frogs ate bugs. Now, the bugs were eating the frog.
Rustle, rustle, rustle...
The relentless sound of thousands of tiny jaws chewing filled the air.
The dwarf clapped his hands and turned back.
Those black caterpillars moved painfully slow; he could easily outpace them even at a leisurely stroll.
“Alright, that big guy should keep them busy for a while.”
The dwarf sat back down by the fire, his eyes landing on the roasting frog legs. The outer skin had turned a golden-brown, sizzling with oil and releasing a rich aroma.
Rosie nodded. “Thanks.”
“Don't mention it,” the dwarf said, scratching his head.
He couldn't understand how Rosie, who dared to slay a sandworm alone and didn't even flinch in the face of a swarm of metal spiders, could be afraid of caterpillars that couldn't even dent her iron armor.
In his eyes, wearing that plate armor, she could probably stomp a whole colony of them to death even without a weapon.
He opened his mouth but ultimately swallowed his words, sitting quietly as they waited for the meat to cook.
Before long, the frog legs were fully roasted.
Rosie placed one of the frog legs near the edge of the fire, slowly smoking it to evaporate the moisture so it would keep for a while.
She used her dagger to slice a large piece of meat from the other leg and handed it to the dwarf, then cut a piece for herself and popped it into her mouth.
The frog leg meat was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, incredibly delicious.
The two ate in silence, the only sounds being their chewing and the crackle of the campfire.
After finishing their meal, they sliced up the other smoked frog leg, packed it into their bags as rations, and resumed their journey.
Time passed.
The sandy ground gradually grew drier and harder, the grains coarsening and crunching loudly beneath their boots.
Soon, the scent of grass began to drift through the air, accompanied by the fresh aroma of dry earth and vegetation.
Finally, the view opened up.
The desert had ended.
Beneath the glow of the crystals, a lush green plain stretched out before them.
The crisp, distinct scent of plants rushed through the ventilation holes of Rosie's helmet, prompting her to take a deep, involuntary breath.
Looking ahead, at the far end of the plain, massive clusters of grayish-white buildings rose from the sea of green.
“We're finally here,” the dwarf marveled.
“Yeah, finally,” Rosie agreed, letting out a sigh of relief.
After walking on sand for so long, seeing this green plain was a sight for sore eyes.
“Where do you think the mage and the others are right now?” the dwarf asked.
Rosie shook her head. “I don't know. But they shouldn't be as fast as us. Having a smaller group has its advantages.”
“Then we'd better find whatever it is they're looking for quickly, get out of here, and leave them to rot in regret!” the dwarf said excitedly, spinning his axe.
“My thoughts exactly.” Rosie patted the dwarf's shoulder. “Let's go. Hopefully, luck is on our side.”
The two stepped onto the green plain side by side.
The blades of grass bent beneath their boots and sprang back, leaving a winding trail behind them.
...
Meanwhile, a group was advancing through the sand.
“O Light of Wisdom, grant me the source of truth, and let me perceive all mysteries!”
Anna's wand traced an arc in the air, a brilliant red light condensing at its tip.
“Wall of Fire!”
Boom!
Flames erupted into the sky, forming a wall of fire that swallowed thousands of black caterpillars.
The air filled with a burnt stench, accompanied by the constant crackling of burning insect shells.
“Be careful not to get too close. These caterpillars are highly toxic,” Anna's voice rang out.
The group didn't halt, continuing their march.
At the very front, several hounds were sniffing the ground.
Their noses were glued to the sand, tails wagging rapidly. Occasionally, they would stop to dig with their front paws before moving on.
Suddenly, they stopped and began barking in unison.
The group slightly adjusted their course.
Led by the hounds, they arrived at a clearing.
The campfire on the ground had long since gone out, leaving only a ring of dry white ash.
A man dressed as a hunter walked over to the campfire, knelt down, brushed aside the ashes, and sifted through them.
Anna walked up to his side. “Did they leave this?”
The hunter nodded, placing a piece of charred wood back into the pile. “It should be theirs.”
“How long ago?” Anna's gaze fell on the pile of ash.
The hunter looked down at the ashes and the surroundings once more before standing up. “At least three days.”
Anna's brow furrowed. “That long? It seems her goal is very clear. I hope we're not too late.”
The hunter continued, “Lady Anna, the Count has personally returned to guard the portal. No one can escape.”
“This place is too vast. If Rosie beats us to it, it will be extremely difficult to find her again,” Anna said.
The hunter glanced at her. “My lady, how about we head out first? We can see if we can stall them.”
Anna didn't reply immediately, her gaze drifting across the sand as she fell into thought.
The Count's hunting squad was expert at tracking—a deadly tool the Count used to hunt down traitors and fugitives.
“Very well,” she said. “Remember, do not engage unless absolutely necessary. They are not like the nobodies you used to hunt.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The hunter bowed and turned to leave.
Shortly after, a five-man squad left in a hurry, taking the hounds with them.
Watching the hunting squad depart, Anna commanded, “Pick up the pace! Time is of the essence!”
The group accelerated, their footsteps blending into a steady rustle across the sand.
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