Chương 166: Grave Of A Goliath

Vale and Eskar both took a moment to stretch before leaving, rolling their shoulders and loosening stiff muscles dulled by exhaustion and cold sand. The desert had a way of draining strength quietly, stealing it one ache at a time. Drago, meanwhile, sat down heavily in the warm sand, his posture hunched and seemingly indifferent to their preparations. He appeared still, almost inert, like a weathered statue half-buried by the dunes. Yet his attention had shifted. Not to Vale. Not to Eskar. To the ravens.

All three of them. Drago's ruby eyes lingered on the birds far longer than comfort allowed, his expression tightening into something complex, part calculation, part unease, part something older that Vale couldn't immediately name. Eventually, Vale noticed.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, curiosity threading through his voice as he followed Drago's gaze. Drago turned slowly toward him.

"You'd be wise to release those ravens," he said evenly.

"Keeping them with you only increases the chance they'll die." Vale blinked. He glanced at the birds, calm, alert, perfectly fine, then back at Drago, confusion clear on his face.

"I… don't think I understand," Vale said carefully. Eskar watched from the side, arms crossed, saying nothing but missing nothing. Drago exhaled, a tired, regretful sound.

"What world do you come from?" he asked bluntly. Both Vale and Eskar stiffened. Eskar reacted first.

"How do you know we don't belong here?" he demanded, surprise and suspicion bleeding into his tone. Drago didn't flinch.

"Nobody belongs here, boy," he said coldly.

"This place isn't something you belong to. It's something that consumes." His gaze hardened, sharp as broken glass, and for a moment Vale felt like he was being weighed, measured not by strength, but by how long he might last. Vale swallowed.

"So… you came from another world too?" he asked. Drago looked at him for a long moment.

"I did," he said simply. Using his cane, he pushed himself back to his feet. His back remained hunched, but there was nothing weak about the way he stood. Without another word, he began moving toward a massive dune to the south.

"But we move now," he added.

"Talking won't save you."

"Wait!" Vale called out before he could stop himself. Drago paused and turned slightly, glancing back over his shoulder. Vale hesitated. His instincts screamed at him to stay quiet, but louder still was the feeling that this mattered.

"Do you know about the Black Lion?" Vale asked. Drago froze. Slowly, he turned fully toward Vale. His ruby eyes narrowed, sharp interest flaring within them.

"Now that," he said quietly, stepping closer, "is interesting." He studied Vale with renewed intensity.

"How does someone like you know the Black Lion exists?" Vale's mouth felt dry. He hesitated, then decided lying would be worse. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Zellion told me," he said. The name hung in the air. Drago raised an eyebrow, then, without warning, turned away, waving a dismissive hand as he resumed walking.

"Very well," he said.

"Follow me." Just like that, the suspicion vanished. Vale stood frozen for a heartbeat, stunned by the abrupt shift, before hurrying after him alongside Eskar. He suppressed the urge to ask more questions, something told him answers would come on Drago's terms, or not at all. They hadn't gone far when Drago spoke again.

"I'll explain now," he said, "why those ravens are safer without you." He didn't slow as he spoke, his cane tapping a steady rhythm into the sand.

"This place doesn't function like other worlds," Drago continued.

"In truth, it isn't even a world. Realm is more accurate." Vale listened intently.

"Each region here is connected through what we call bridges, passages linking different sections of the realm. This region is known as the Scorched Sands." He paused briefly.

"More commonly, it's called Goliath's Grave." Vale's eyes widened slightly. Drago gestured toward the horizon.

"You see those massive stone structures scattered across the desert?" Vale followed his gaze. Towering shapes pierced the sky, immense, rib-like formations reaching heavenward.

"…Yeah," Vale said quietly.

"Those," Drago said, "are ribs." Vale's breath caught.

"The ribs of an Unhallowed," Drago continued.

"It died during apotheosis, while attempting to ascend into a Goliath of Uncreation. Its body failed. Its death fed the birth of this place." He let that sink in.

"The sand was once flesh. The stone was once bone. And the power lingering here attracts predators." Drago's voice grew colder.

"They kill each other. Grow stronger. Kill again. Over and over. An eternal cycle where only the strongest remain." Vale felt his stomach twist.

"Your ravens," Drago said, glancing at them again, "are not prey here. They're too weak." Vale relaxed slightly, until Drago continued.

"But they won't stay weak." He stopped walking.

"If anything other than a human enters this realm," Drago said slowly, "it begins to mutate. Not like spawn, but similarly. The realm's atum is unstable. Foreign life adapts." Eskar stiffened.

"They keep their minds," Drago added.

"And their connection to their original plane." Vale's heart sank.

"In short," Drago said, turning back toward them, "those ravens won't stay small. And once they grow, once they change, the target on your backs becomes infinitely larger." He resumed walking.

"That is how this place works. The strong fall to the stronger. And the strongest don't care whether you wish to fight or not." His voice was flat, merciless.

"They will kill you regardless." Vale slowly turned his head, looking at the three ravens perched across his shoulders. They were unusually still, their dark eyes fixed on him with an unsettling awareness. Soft, mournful caws escaped their beaks, low and restrained, as if they already understood what was coming. Yet something still didn't add up.

"Wait," Vale said suddenly, breaking the moment.

"There's something missing. You said anything other than humans mutates in this place, but you talk about the scorpions as if they're a natural species." Drago stopped. He turned toward Vale, irritation flashing openly across his face.

"Did you not listen, boy?" he snapped.

"I said anything not from this realm mutates. Not anything currently living here." He gestured sharply toward the dunes.

"The creatures you see here now are locals. Many of them were once spawn. Others were ordinary animals dragged in long ago. Over time, they regressed, shed higher cognition, and adapted." His voice grew colder.

"They didn't just mutate. They stabilized. They bred. They became species." Drago's eyes returned to the ravens.

"Your birds won't have that luxury." Vale's breath hitched.

"They'll keep their minds," Drago continued, unyielding.

"They'll keep their foreign atum. And they'll grow." He paused.

"Those ravens might become giants within weeks." Vale's eyes widened as he slowly looked at Illu, Hurricane, and August. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding as the reality finally settled in. This wasn't speculation. It wasn't a warning meant to scare him. It was inevitability. He swallowed hard and turned back to Drago.

"Where do they need to go to be safe?" Vale asked quietly. Drago studied him for a moment, then answered.

"South," he said.

"Irea lies there, but they won't be allowed inside. Not like that." Vale's shoulders sank slightly.

"The Great Forest," Drago continued.

"That's their best chance. If they survive, you may see them again when we arrive." Vale stopped walking. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his arms, letting the ravens step down onto them. They shifted their weight, talons light against his sleeves, watching him closely. For a long moment, none of them moved. They had been with him from the beginning. Through blood, fire, and fear. They were more than companions, more than familiars. Letting them go felt wrong. Deeply, viscerally wrong.

Vale forced a smile onto his face. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Well," he said softly, voice tight,"you heard him. Go on. Get to safety." He hesitated, then added, almost pleading,"And… try to find Ember while you're at it." Illu cawed once and leaned in, brushing his feathers gently against Vale's cheek before spreading his wings and taking flight. August followed, doing the same. Hurricane lingered the longest. For a heartbeat, he pressed his beak against Vale's forehead, then launched himself into the air. Vale watched them fly.

Watched until they became specks on the horizon. Watched until they vanished entirely. Only then did it hit him. A hollow ache opened in his chest, sudden and sharp, as if something vital had been torn away. His heart stuttered for a moment, refusing to beat, and in that silence he understood just how much he hated this decision. Even if it was the right one. Even if it saved them. A single tear slipped free, cutting a faint line through the dust on his cheek.

Vale turned back toward Drago and Eskár, his voice low and steady despite the ache.

"…Let's go."