The dust kept crashing against Akram's face, even getting into his eyes, and yet he didn't flinch, didn't even blink.
He silently stared at the livid body of his companion, doing nothing, his eyes once again completely empty — stripped of any soul.
Then, after several minutes of silence, he took back his tunic from his friend's body and buried her beneath a pile of stones, under which Maora would rest forever.
He then resumed walking, silently, head lowered. But after only a few steps, he slowed down… and finally stopped completely.
He trembled, clenched his teeth, his fist, then...
A tear fell.
Then a second.
Then a third.
They kept coming, without stopping. He couldn't hold them back anymore.
He cried, without restraint. But after sorrow came anger, then resentment… then hatred.
He screamed with all his strength, his voice echoing through the canyon, his vocal cords tearing under the sheer force of his rage.
It was Akram's voice — the voice of a man shattered by everything he had just lived through, and everything he had just lost.
And yet, despite that, after a few minutes, he started walking again.
Vulkania was still there. He hadn't lost everything yet. Not yet.
So he walked toward the colony, painfully, the sun beating down on his forehead, the sand slowing his already heavy steps.
Along the way, he came across skeletons and fresh corpses — Rushers, recently massacred by he-didn't-know-what kind of entity from this cursed world.
He hesitated for a few moments, then began looting them, one by one. The first thing he took was a katana whose guard was missing, replaced by a simple bandage.
His best find came from the body of a one-armed Rusher, just like him. He recovered a metallic prosthetic, thin, rusted, almost useless… but enough for now.
He painfully installed it where his lost arm had been, then activated the mechanism that connected the nerves to the prosthetic.
He pulled the lever.
The nerves connected with a sharp snap, without warning.
Akram screamed for a few seconds, then forced himself to suppress the pain, afraid that whatever had slaughtered the Rusher horde might come after him next.
***
After several hours of walking, as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, Akram finally saw his home. His roof. His colony.
Vulkania.
The sight jolted him awake instantly. The strength that had left him hours ago suddenly came rushing back, and he began to run — to run like he never had before — toward home.
But the illusion shattered quickly. Very quickly.
"COME ON, BITCH! LET IT HAPPEN, FUCKING HELL!"
The shout came from the colony.
Akram slowed down, then noticed the absence of guards at the watchtowers… the bolts and arrows embedded in the walls… then the bodies scattered across the ground .... clearly not Rushers.
Vulkania was under full raid.
Without a second of hesitation, he grabbed his weapon and slipped inside the camp through the entrance.
"Come on, bitch !"
A man was there, straddling a Vulkania woman. They seemed isolated.
Akram instantly understood the man's intentions. Without waiting — as if all the doubt still lingering in his body had left this world along with Maora — he lunged at him.
He drove his blade deep into the man's neck, the tip bursting out through his throat.
The man jolted upright, trying to scream, but only the sound of blood gurgling from his open throat came out. He slowly collapsed to the ground, drowning in his own blood, and died seconds later.
A sand bandit — an experienced raider, known for attacking caravans and isolated settlements.
It was Akram's very first human kill. He had never taken a life before… and strangely, he felt no remorse at all.
The young woman he had just saved slowly raised her eyes, gradually taking in the appearance of her savior.
"A-Akram?! You're alive? You're alive!" she cried out.
Akram crouched down beside her and gestured for her to lower her voice.
"Yes… No one else made it back? What's going on? Why the hell is he here?!" Akram asked, stunned.
"Those bastards… They took advantage of your absence! They attacked the day after you left… They killed all the warriors… They've been here for three days now, turning us into nothing but objects… They…" the young woman sobbed.
"Shh… You don't need to say more, I understand… But I need information. How many are there? Where are they? How well-armed are they?"
The woman gave him a brief rundown of the situation. Around thirty sand bandits were present, led by a notorious chief named Kravash the Heart-Ripper.
Kravash was an old enemy of Barid, but he had never dared attack Vulkania — even when Barid was away.
The Vulkans' defeat at the hands of Varog must have pushed him to strike.
"Leyla… She's locked inside the research center?!" Akram exclaimed.
"Yes… She barricaded herself after killing one of them… They've been trying to force her out for the last three days… I don't know how much longer she can hold on…"
Akram didn't answer. He simply lowered his gaze, thinking of Kra.
He hadn't kept his promise to Leyla. He hadn't managed to protect her son.
Guilt crushed him.
I won't let her die. Not her, he thought.
Akram looked down at the bandit's corpse, stared at it for a few seconds, then bent down and lifted it.
"What are you doing, Akram?!" the young woman shouted.
"I have a plan," he replied calmly.
Akram dragged the body outside the colony with difficulty, then stripped it completely.
He took the man's clothes, armor, and bandana, tying it around his face. He then dumped the body into a pit near the colony before heading back inside.
"W-What? What are you playing at?!" the girl asked.
"Let me handle this, please," Akram replied flatly.
Moments later, the HQ door opened and a bandit stepped outside.
"Hey, Blazro, you done with that one yet?! Kravash wants to see us about the slut locked inside!" the bandit shouted.
Disguised, Akram simply raised his thumb in response.
The bandit went back inside without another word.
Akram followed him, ready to put his plan into motion — and ready to save Leyla.