Lune woke up to a sudden, heavy tremble.
The entire platform shook beneath him, a deep, rumbling tremor that jolted his body like a struck drum.
His eyes flew open.
"What again…" he muttered hoarsely, dragging himself up on shaking arms. His throat was dry, his chest aching with every breath. The exhaustion from last night clung to him like chains.
As he looked up, he saw a ray of sun pierce through the dark sky.
He lifted his hand to shield his eyes, blinking furiously against the glare.
Sunrise.
"It's morning already…" he murmured, the words escaping half in wonder, half in dread.
Slowly and against his drained body, he got up to his feet and turned his gaze outward.
His eyes widened as a sudden realisation dawned on him.
The sand monster, the endless, shifting mountain of crimson, had taken the shape of a beast when the sun fell, and the moon rose.
But not, with the return of the sun, its titanic body unravelled, collapsing into a massive tide of sand that poured outward in all directions.
Waves of crushing, crimson grit began swallowing the ruins, flowing over the shattered walls and toppled towers. The ground trembled beneath the advancing flood of sand, and one of those very waves was rushing straight at him.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
He staggered back from the edge of the broken platform, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Lune's eyes darted wildly over the ruined city, searching for salvation. But the horizon was nothing but wreckage, countless shattered buildings, gutted shells of what once might have been a city. No high ground, no safe refuge. Nothing to save him.
Until he saw it.
A single structure stood untouched among the ruins.
A squat, obsidian-colored building of black brick, its surface unbroken, its form whole amidst devastation.
"The temple…" His breath hitched as he uttered the words. "The quest… It's right there!"
Hope flared up, sharp and wild, only to wither away as the reality of his situation crushed in.
He would never reach it in time. The tide was already here.
The first wave of crimson sand struck the base of the tower with a roar like thunder, surging upward. Dust exploded through the hollowed chamber, making him cough. He turned and scrambled higher, climbing the jagged wall like a cornered rat. His boots slipped, palms tearing on sharp edges, but fear drove him forward.
The sand followed relentlessly.
It filled the platform below, rising with terrifying speed, devouring the tower's lower floors.
He climbed higher and higher, until he reached the last stretch of wall, a crumbling, leaning fragment stabbing toward the sky.
There was nowhere else to go.
Balancing on the knife-edge of stone, he clung desperately to the ruin.
But the tide had reached him.
It surged around his boots, swallowing them in an instant. Then his knees. Then his waist.
The weight was immense, like being wrapped in chains made of stone dust. He gasped as it crushed against his chest, pinning his ribs.
The sand continued to climb higher, sliding up to his throat.
Just as the first grains brushed his chin, the sand had stopped.
"…Hah." A broken laugh escaped his lips, half-mad relief spilling out. "Close one, huh?"
The chuckle, however, didn't last long as he tried to move and realised the truth of his situation.
The sand did not simply rest against him. It held onto him. He strained, muscles screaming, and managed to shift his arm a few centimetres before the pressure forced it back.
He was trapped.
Minutes dragged on. Sweat ran down his brow. His breaths came shallow and sharp, each one harder than the last as panic began to claw at his chest.
Fifteen or so minutes later, with a desperate, grinding effort, he wrenched one arm free. The victory, however, tasted hollow as his body was still buried, his legs completely bound to the sand.
Then, before he had a chance to continue his escape, a sudden shriek cut through the silence.
It split the air above, driving a shiver down his spine.
Lune's head flicked up.
There, a Crimson Vulture circled above him.
"Dammit!" he cursed.
He grit his teeth and dug frantically at the sand. It was a slow and torturous effort. Every handful of sand was barely. He freed his second arm just as the vulture dove.
With a screech like tearing metal, it plummeted toward him.
Lune summoned his glaive in a flash of pale light, barely in time. The weapon shivered in his grip, the familiar weight a lifeline. He thrust it upward, catching the bird's beak on the shaft. The impact jolted through his arms, nearly dislocating his shoulders.
The vulture pulled back, wings beating furiously. Lune snarled, swinging the glaive wide. The movement was sluggish, strangled by the sand. The blade caught the creature's chest, carving a shallow line that spilt a dark, oily blood.
The bird shrieked again, more enraged than wounded. It circled, then dove once more, talons extended.
Lune exhaled slowly.
Compared to the scorpion… this was nothing.
The vulture's speed was almost pitiful.
He waited, muscles tense. At the last moment, he angled the glaive and thrust. The blade pierced the creature's torso, punching through feathers and flesh.
The vulture screamed, body twisting mid-air. Its momentum carried it into the tower's crumbling wall, where it flailed once before crashing to the stone, dead.
[You have slain a White Stage Monster: Crimson Vulture.]
The message flickered in his vision.
Lune let out a long, shaky breath and dropped the glaive, its point sinking slightly into the sand.
"...Good riddance."
He bent again to the gruelling work of freeing himself. The sand resisted stubbornly, but the death of the bird had stoked his will. Inch by inch, he pried his legs loose until finally, with a ragged groan, he stumbled free.
Panting, he leaned on his glaive and looked down at the lifeless bird. Its crimson-stained feathers ruffled weakly in the morning breeze.
But his thoughts were already elsewhere.
He closed his eyes, recalling the last image before the sand had risen: the lone building of black brick, whole and untouched, where all else lay shattered.
The Temple of the Hollow God.
It was there, waiting hidden beneath the sea of sand, but it would rise again with the coming night.
And when it did, he would reach it.
He turned toward the direction he had seen it, steadying his breath. His legs still trembled, his body screamed for rest, but his heart beat steadily with new determination.
"Just hold on," he muttered, voice rough. "Once the sand retracts… I'll get there. I'll finally get there."
He tightened his grip on the glaive and began walking, slow but steady, across the sand-swept ruin.
He wasn't alone.
Far behind him, from within the drowned city, something else was stirring—something that had survived the crushing tide just like him.
And soon, Lune would discover what it was.