The sandstorm roared around them, the haze thickening as the winds grew stronger, forcing Chester and Clara to brace against the gusts. The cloaked figure stood a mere few steps away, their hands raised in a gesture of submission, their stance calm yet firm.
"Identify yourself!" Chester shouted over the howling winds, his rifle steady but his voice betraying his unease.
The figure remained silent for a moment, as if considering their response. The storm intensified, whipping loose sand into the air. Finally, a calm, steady voice emerged from beneath the hood.
"I'm not your enemy," the figure said. "There's no need to be wary of me."
Clara scoffed, lowering her rifle slightly but keeping her finger near the trigger. "Then prove it," she snapped. "Take off the hood and show us your face."
The figure let out a reluctant sigh, the sound laced with exasperation, as though Clara's demand was a minor inconvenience. Slowly, they reached up and pulled back the makeshift hood of their cloak.
Both Chester and Clara froze, their reactions starkly different.
Chester's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the individual before him. Beneath the tattered cloak was a boy—no, a young man, barely old enough to be considered an adult. His glossy brown hair shimmered faintly despite the dim light of the storm, and his eyes were a piercing amber, glowing like twin suns amidst the haze. His expression was calm yet carried a weight far beyond his apparent years.
Chester's grip on his rifle faltered. He's a kid. A damn kid… and he took down a Slitborn Ravager.
Clara's reaction, however, was far less subdued. "Oh, my God!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the storm like a whip. "He's just a boy! And—wait—he's handsome!" Her rifle wavered as she pointed wildly at him, her incredulous tone shifting to something akin to admiration.
The young man—Lucius, as they would later learn—sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as if Clara's outburst drained what little patience he had left. "I'd appreciate it if you kept your voice down," he said flatly, glancing over his shoulder at the swirling storm.
Chester shot Clara a look, his own nerves still on edge. "Clara, for the love of God, get it together!"
"Get it together? He's a literal kid!" Clara retorted, gesturing dramatically toward Lucius.
Lucius cut in before Chester could respond, his voice calm but firm. "We need to move. The storm is getting worse, and it's only a matter of time before something else shows up. There's a safe place nearby where we can talk."
Chester clenched his jaw, reluctant to follow a stranger—even one who had just saved their lives. "Not so fast. You've got a lot of explaining to do, kid. Like how the hell someone your age managed to—"
Lucius glanced over his shoulder, his amber eyes narrowing slightly. The intensity of his gaze silenced Chester mid-sentence. "Stay quiet," he said, his tone dismissive. "Follow me, and I'll answer your questions once we're safe."
Chester flinched, his grip tightening on his rifle. There was something unnervingly commanding about the boy's presence—something that made him hesitate to push further.
Clara, however, was less easily cowed. "Oh, no, you don't!" she snapped, stepping forward. "You still haven't told us who you are or why we should trust you! For all we know, you could be leading us into a trap!"
Lucius sighed again, clearly unimpressed by her persistence. As he turned to walk ahead, he called back over his shoulder in the same calm, dismissive tone, "Lucius. That's all you need to know for now."
Chester and Clara exchanged a glance, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and frustration.
"Lucius?" Clara repeated, her tone dripping with skepticism. "That's it? No last name? No explanation? Just Lucius?"
Lucius didn't respond. Instead, he continued walking, his movements confident and unhurried despite the storm swirling around him.
Chester groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced nervously at the sandstorm's shifting haze. "Great. Just great. We're supposed to trust a kid named Lucius who refuses to give us straight answers."
Before Clara could retort, Lucius's voice cut through the storm again, sharper this time. "Hurry up. Unless you want to meet another Siltborn Ravager—or worse."
Chester and Clara froze at the implication, their gazes darting toward the swirling sands around them.
"Worse?!" Clara exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. "What the hell could be worse than that thing?"
Lucius paused, glancing over his shoulder with an unreadable expression. "Trust me," he said simply, his tone carrying a hint of dry humor. "You don't want to find out."
Despite themselves, Chester and Clara hurried after him, their bickering momentarily forgotten.