Sand Bandits HQ, 3 km northeast of Vulkania.
The sand bandits' headquarters looked far more agitated than Vulkania had been. The bandits moved in a disorganized and hurried manner, as if time itself was working against them.
Discussions broke out everywhere. Two distinct groups had formed among the bandits. On one side were those demanding immediate revenge and the total destruction of Vulkania, made up of the most aggressive and unstable members of the militia.
On the other side stood the higher-ranking leaders, promoting a much more cautious approach toward the colony. To them, Vulkania had become a real threat, far more dangerous than it had been in the past.
The leaders eventually gathered to decide on a course of action, and how it should be carried out.
Of the six known chiefs, five were present. The sixth, Kravash, was no longer able to attend, due to the loss of his head and its advanced state of decomposition.
Gathered around a small campfire, opinions flew from every direction.
"We slaughter them all. It's simple. There's not even a need for discussion, why are we even talking?" declared Balgrid the Reckless, leader of the eastern sand bandits, whose grotesque appearance—like a cross between a bear and an ogre—perfectly matched his words.
"Yes, but not without thinking first. Didn't you see the state Kravash's men came back in? We need to be smart." replied Koard the Vicious, leader of the west, far more scrawny in appearance, yet noticeably more cunning, which fit his reasoning disturbingly well.
"There's only one man we need to catch and butcher to bring their whole group down. Their new leader, that A-… Ak… Aw… I don't even remember his name, that son of a bitch, anyway."
added Vipin the Simple, leader of the southern sand bandits, strangely commanding the largest and most disciplined group despite his limited intellect.
"For once, I agree with the big piece of shit. We really need to deal with this so-called Akram. He's the one who smoked Kravash, after all." cut in Simeon Heart-Eater, leader of the north, whose filthy appearance and stench were unmistakable.
"Who are you calling a big piece of shit? That Akram guy? Yeah, he's a piece of sh— w-… Wait, are you talking about me, you son of a bitch? You wanna get gutted?" Vipin growled.
"Yeah, try it, son of a bitch." Simeon snapped, ready to leap at Vipin.
As Balgrid restrained the two hotheads to prevent an internal war, holding each of them back without the slightest effort, another individual sitting at the chiefs' table remained noticeably quiet.
"Shit… anyway, you stink so bad even the cannibals wouldn't want your fresh corpse, asshole." Vipin finished, lowering his arm and sheathing his blade.
A few laughs broke out, but were quickly cut short by Koard.
"Enough, you're pissing everyone off talking all the time. What does he think about it?" Koard said, turning his gaze toward the quiet individual.
The man lifted his head, revealing himself from the shadows.
He looked imposing without being terrifying. Medium-length hair, a poorly shaved three-day beard, and clothing made of animal fur still clearly marked his social status, even in this broken world.
"Uh… well, could you focus on the discussion?" Koard added, almost timidly.
"No." the man replied flatly.
"Well, still, we have to avenge Kravash, s—" Koard tried to add, before being cut off.
"No."
"At least you don't want to… you know, leave this for later…?" Koard asked carefully, his eyes drifting toward the man's hands.
The man was openly groping a woman's chest, one hand occupied by a different woman, completely indifferent to the situation.
"Looks like you already decided on your own, didn't you? Unless you shut your mouths properly, I've got nothing to add." the man said simply.
All the chiefs fell silent. Not a single sound escaped them.
With just a few words, the atmosphere grew heavy. Fear filled the hearts of the leaders. Despite being seasoned and feared fighters, they had completely lost any desire to argue.
It was understandable. The man who had silenced them so easily was none other than Zarod of the Dunes,
the Warlord of the sand bandits, their founder and supreme leader.
Zarod stood up, leaning on his two concubines, gently stroking their hair as he did so.
"There is no plan. No opinions. No discussion." he said firmly.
"Kravash is dead, and he died like a dog. We will avenge him. Simply and directly."
"I don't know who this Akram you're talking about is, nor why he terrifies you so much."
"Kravash may have seemed strong to you, but he was far from the most dangerous one here. Not even among you."
As he spoke, the sand bandits gradually gathered around him, listening with absolute devotion, his charisma doing all the work.
"I already have someone who will take care of it. And it will be quick." he continued, with almost insulting confidence.
"We march toward their settlement in two days. Sharpen your blades and get ready. Blood will be spilled for Kravash."
Zarod sat back down and returned to his business with his concubines.
All his men began to howl after his speech, chanting his name again and again, like followers of a cult.
Meanwhile, a few dozen meters away, hidden deep in the shadows…
Baron, the Vulkan scout, had witnessed the entire discussion.
At the sight of the massive bandit force, Baron felt his blood turn cold and sweat bead on his forehead. Yet despite this, he did not flee, nor did he doubt Akram.
For reasons that Elliot and the older inhabitants of Vulkania could not explain, Baron had never doubted Akram. Not once. Even after witnessing the sand bandits' overwhelming strength with his own eyes, he did not despair.
He pulled himself together and retreated, determined to warn the Vulkans of what he had seen and heard—and of what awaited them in the final battle.
***
Vulkania, D-2 before the attack.
Runa, Elliot, and Baron—fresh from his mission—were digging countless trenches around Vulkania.
The turrets had been rearmed. Although half of them had been dismantled due to the small number of Vulkans left, it was crucial to preserve as many resources as possible to allow Akram to build his traps and carry out his plan.
At the same time, Akram was surprisingly not involved in those preparations.
While his people worked on the defenses, Akram spent much of his days taking care of Leyla at the headquarters.
He fed her, washed her, put her to bed, and watched over her almost constantly.
Each day, he despaired at not seeing her return to herself, but he never abandoned her.
"Akram !" a voice shouted from outside the HQ door.
"Come in, I'm here." Akram replied simply, as he fed Leyla.
Elliot entered the building, covered in sweat and mud, breathing heavily.
"It's ready… huh… we're done…" he said, out of breath.
Akram stood up and wiped Leyla's mouth before turning to Elliot.
"Good. Then we finish those traps and get rid of the horde of sons of bitches that's coming."
Akram followed Elliot outside the HQ, ready to finalize his plan, more determined than ever to face the greatest challenge of his life—at least, for now.