The rest lasted barely five minutes.

  When Bash stood, everyone followed. There was no chatter, no bravado, only the quiet readiness that

  came after a hard fight. The desert wind pressed against them, hot and dry, whispering through armor

  seams.

  They fell into formation automatically. Boots sank slightly in the fine sand, each step crunching with

  mechanical rhythm. The landscape stretched endless and pale, dunes rolling in slow waves that seemed

  to move when you looked too long. Heat shimmered across the horizon, warping the line between earth

  and sky.

  No one spoke. They didn’t need to. Every one of them felt the pressure of fatigue and the pull of

  expectation, another portal, another battle, another chance to find what still eluded Bash.

  After nearly forty minutes of trudging through the shimmering heat, movement appeared ahead, faint at

  first, like mirages made solid.

  “Visuals,” Calen murmured, lifting his bow slightly. “Multiple signatures. Two dozen maybe.”

  Through the wavering air, the shapes grew sharper, lean, canine silhouettes darting through the dunes.

  At first they seemed harmless. A pack of large, dog-like creature, long-limbed, muscular, running and

  bounding through the sand. They yipped and barked, chasing each other in circles like wild hounds at

  play. The scene might almost have been peaceful.

  Then one of them stopped. It raised its head and howled, a long, shrill sound that made the sand

  vibrate.

  The others froze instantly. Then, one by one, they turned toward the team.

  Their playfulness vanished.

  “Dogs?” Liora asked cautiously.

  “Not dogs,” Bash answered.

  Five of the beasts rolled suddenly into tight balls, their spines snapping upright with a metallic clack.

  Each was covered in jagged quills, barbed ridges that shimmered under the sunlight. The rest formed a

  line behind them, low and ready.

  “Desert Spine Devils,” Taren muttered. “Saw records of them once. Defense specialists.”

  “Thorns type?” Bash asked.

  “Almost certainly,” she said, reloading. “And that means reflected damage. Great.”

  The team spread into their usual attack formation, Bash and Taren slightly back, the melee trio front

  and center, ranged to the flanks.

  At the first sign of movement, the air erupted with sound. Nyra’s rifle barked sharp and clean. Calen’s

  arrows split through the air, slicing trails of faint blue light.

  But every round that hit one of the balled-up Devils sparked and bounced away, ricocheting harmlessly

  into the sand.

  “They’re shielding the others!” Calen shouted, frustration bleeding into his tone.

  “Then move forward,” Bash ordered. “Break through before they regroup!”

  Rixor grinned under his visor and charged. “My kind of problem!”

  The first unshielded beast leapt to meet him, and his hammer met it mid-air with a bone-crunching

  impact. The creature folded into the ground. But as Rixor pulled his hammer free, he winced, chest

  tightening.

  “Reflected hit,” he grunted.

  Liora and Darik were already beside him, blades whirling in synchronized precision. Each strike drew

  black ichor, and each sent faint jolts of backlash through their suits.

  Taren’s pistols blazed. “Stay inside my range!” she called, releasing alternating waves of green-white

  essence fire. The shimmering pulses of her healing field radiated outward, dulling the reflection effects

  before they could stack.

  “Keep left and right arcs separate!” Bash shouted. “Taren, rotate your fire pattern! Two targets per side,

  spread the healing field!”

  “Copy that!”

  She pivoted, alternating between flanks, the rhythmic bursts keeping the formation alive. Even so, the

  reflected pain built like static in the air, each blow answering back with invisible retaliation.

  Bash hurled two knives in rapid succession. The first struck deep into a Devil’s side. Half a heartbeat

  later, the same wound flared again, a second, phantom impact following the first, then a third faint

  shimmer of air punching the same spot.

  The creature spasmed and dropped.

  A hard pulse slammed through Bash’s chest, sharp enough to make him falter a step.

  “S-C” he hissed.

  Confirmed, she replied instantly. Essence surge detected. Tier One Greater classification, Thorns-type

  resonance.

  The ache faded as fast as it came, leaving only a faint tremor in his hands.

  He blinked hard. “You saw the wound open up multiple times after the blade, right?”

  Affirmative. Echo manifestation confirmed. Impact replication frequency irregular, current activation

  probability 8.4 percent. Observed previously during the manticore engagement.

  “So it wasn’t a fluke.”

  Negative. Correlation high with relic resonance. Echo strikes consistent with weapon-enhancement

  sub-type.

  Bash exhaled through clenched teeth. Finally, he thought, something that works in my favor.

  He launched another volley. Each knife hit with clean precision, and though not every strike triggered

  the echo, when it did, the effects were devastating. A single throw became a cascade of impacts,

  shredding armor and breaking formation lines.

  “Nice throw!” Rixor bellowed, slamming his hammer through two advancing beasts. “Whatever you’re

  doing, keep doing it!”

  Bash didn’t answer. He just kept moving, blade-after-blade, letting the rhythm consume him.

  The Spine Devils howled as the fight grew desperate. The air rippled with distortion, not from heat this

  time, but from the resonance of reflected pain. Every cut, every hit sent shockwaves both ways.

  “Three left in formation!” Taren yelled.

  “Push!” Bash ordered. “Group target, single focus!”

  They collapsed on the remaining front-line defenders, striking fast and hard. One fell under combined

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  blows from Liora and Darik. The reflected pulse rippled through Bash’s chest, harder than before.

  “Tier One Apex confirmed”, S-C said. “Thorns alignment, still no unlock.”

  He steadied himself, jaw tight.

  Seconds later, Taren’s pistols cracked twice, precise and unrelenting. The second shot hit a Devil dead

  center, dropping it mid-charge.

  She gasped, one hand on her chest.

  Bash turned immediately. “Taren!”

  Her eyes widened for a moment, then softened into a bright smile. “I’m okay. I just, unlocked.”

  The team broke into brief shouts and cheers, half from joy, half from relief.

  “Thorns, huh?” Rixor said, shaking his head. “Figures. You heal everyone else and now you get to

  punish anyone dumb enough to hit you.”

  Taren grinned. “Guess it’s fitting.”

  Even Nyra laughed, exhaustion fading for just a moment.

  When the final Spine Devil fell, the silence that followed was absolute. The desert stretched empty

  again, only the team’s ragged breathing and the hiss of cooling armor vents filling the void.

  The battle had lasted less than twenty minutes, but it felt longer, relentless, grinding, every strike a

  trade in blood or essence.

  They regrouped at the center of the field, Taren walking slowly between them, her healing aura dim but

  steady. Each pulse closed bruises, sealed cuts, and dulled the burn from reflected feedback.

  Rixor dropped onto one knee, wiping sand from his visor. “Never thought I’d say it, but I miss the

  swarms. At least those died fast.”

  Nyra holstered her rifle. “Yeah, and didn’t make us fight ourselves to do it.”

  Calen stood off to the side, cleaning his bowstring. “Well,” he muttered, voice flat, “we got what we

  came for. Let’s leave before the sun decides to kill us too.”

  The comment hung in the air. No one answered.

  Bash finally gave a curt nod. “Pack it up. We’re done here.”

  They gathered the Beast Fragments, slender, translucent spines that shimmered faintly with residual

  energy. There were dozens scattered across the sand. Bash kept count automatically while S-C

  processed readings in the background.

  Total yield: two thousand nine hundred ninety-two Beast Fragments, S-C reported quietly. Absorption

  ratio consistent with prior engagement. You personally absorbed two thousand five hundred fifteen

  units of Wind essence, Tier One Greater; one Tier One Apex Life Steal essence; and nineteen Thorns

  signatures, eighteen Greater, one Apex.

  Collected fragments total: two thousand nine hundred seventy-one Wind T1G, one Life Steal T1A,

  eighteen Thorns T1G, and two Thorns T1A.

  Noted, he replied. Let’s keep tracking the relic effects too.

  Already doing so.

  They started the long walk back. The sun was sinking lower, the horizon bleeding from gold into rust.

  Their shadows stretched long and thin over the dunes.

  By the time they reached the portal, fatigue had replaced adrenaline. Even Rixor, normally restless,

  moved in silence.

  One by one they stepped through the white light, the heat collapsing away into the chill of polished

  metal.

  The Ark’s air felt sterile after the desert, cool, filtered, lifeless. They went through the standard

  procedures: Nexus sync, debrief, medical scans. S-C dampened the relic’s signature seamlessly. Bash

  felt tension crawl across his spine until the technician gave the all-clear.

  He exhaled for the first time since entering the chamber.

  After the debrief, Bash divided the haul evenly, 1,285 fragments each. The number looked decent on

  paper, though everyone knew the quality mattered more than the count.

  Rixor accepted his share with a short nod. “Finally, something that sounds reasonable,” he said, turning

  one of the shards over in his hand. The faint red gleam reflected off his visor. “Shame they’re all Tier

  One grade, though. Would’ve been nice to get something with bite.”

  Bash gave a faint shrug. “We take what the portals give.”

  The cafeteria afterward was quiet. The smell of hot protein rations hung in the air, the low hum of

  voices from other squads echoing distantly. Their table was nearly silent. Rixor sat with his arms

  crossed. Calen picked at his food without touching it.

  Liora tried to lighten the mood once, but no one followed.

  By the end of the meal, the exhaustion wasn’t just physical, it was emotional, stretching between them

  like an invisible thread about to snap.

  Back in the dorms, the atmosphere stayed thick. Rixor paced near his bunk, muttering under his breath.

  “That archer’s gonna get someone killed,” he said finally. “I’m serious. He’s too far out, too slow to

  react, too wrapped up in himself.”

  Bash didn’t look up from unfastening his gauntlets. “He’s still adapting. Let it go.”

  Rixor grunted, jaw tight. For a moment, it looked like he might argue, but he exhaled hard and dropped

  it, sitting heavily on the edge of his bunk.

  After a few seconds, he glanced toward Taren. “Did I hear you right? You only absorbed one Thorns

  essence? You were right there the whole time. What’s going on? Every time there’s multiple kills,

  we’re not getting all the essence.”

  Taren set her pistol aside and turned toward him. “Relax,” she said softly, resting a hand on his arm.

  “Be happy things are going as well as they are.”

  The tension drained from Rixor almost instantly. He gave a slow nod, the fire fading from his

  expression. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

  S-C’s voice came softly in Bash’s mind. Portal 415 shows 3% probability for Blink Step or Still Veil.

  Both stealth-class enhancements. Low yield, but potential synergy with your relic.

  Bash leaned back against the wall. Three percent’s low.

  Still better than zero. You might call it… incremental progress.

  He almost smiled. Then we’ll take it. Start data prep. We’ll go soon.