The man wearing a cape, whose edges were torn from wear, spoke without lifting the veil covering his mouth. Only his eyes were visible, and within seconds they roamed over the eleven people in front of him before returning to the burly orc among them.
"So, what is the price for passing through here?"
Wind of Death couldn't stop her voice from trembling as she spoke; the others, who had been dealing with the changing temperatures of the desert and sandstorms for days, didn't look any better than she did.
"You will hand over whatever you have."
Removing his black veil, the man answered by showing his teeth, half of which were rotten and the other half stained the color of desert sand. After not encountering anyone for so long, their path was blocked by desert bandits just when they had managed to see the place they wanted to reach.
"Is it that easy?"
The eyes of the giant orc warrior welled up; she looked like she would cry if touched. Seeing this, the bandit grew a bit more delighted and wanted to show his unique smile by taking another step closer.
"Of course, once you hand over what you have, you can pass...!"
The bandit was about to finish his sentence when the sharp edge of the massive axe that suddenly appeared in front of his eye embedded itself in his head. When the weapon, as large as his own body, made contact with his brain, his feet left the ground, and he flew ten paces before mixing into the desert sands.
"Come out, you degenerate bandits!"
When the member of the Elite Ten, who carried out an attack using shockwaves, slammed both his hands on the ground, he released a roar that drowned out the sound into the winds of the endless desert. His call wouldn't go unanswered; twenty people hiding in the sands were bursting out along with the weapons in their hands.
"I gave you whatever I had. Can I pass now? Or do you want some more?"
Wind of Death spoke as she drew her other axe, which she hadn't used in a long time, and her message was clear: You want to rob us? You must have a death wish.
"Kill them. When we sell the ring on her hand, I'll give you all a hundred gold pieces!"
The bandit, who didn't even turn around to take a single look at his friend's corpse, had recognized the ring from which Wind of Death pulled out her second axe at a single glance, despite being ten paces away. Judging by the fact that the others carried out his order without questioning it, this person was the leader, and he stepped back to watch his men's attack.
"You handle these, I'll take this worthless piece of trash!"
Ignoring the two people coming at her, the Commander-in-Chief of the Orc Empire Armies slipped past them and suddenly appeared three paces in front of the bandits' leader. Judging by his eyes growing twice their normal size, the man who hadn't lowered the veil on his face wasn't expecting this, and he hastily threw the two round balls he pulled out of his pocket onto the ground.
When the purple clouds rising from the sands drew a curtain of smoke between her and her enemy, Wind of Death didn't stop. Holding her axe with both hands, she brought it in front of her body and started spinning it. She was so fast, so fierce that the purple smoke curtain dispersed along with the blades shooting out from within it, vanishing as if it had never existed.
"You're one of the leftovers of the Mercenaries, aren't you? I'd recognize this treacherous combat style anywhere!"
Realizing that her target had turned his back and started running away, Wind of Death stopped where she was instead of going after him, and spat on the ground after finishing her words. When she turned around, she found her ten subordinates waiting for orders from her, having laid the twenty people on the bosom of the desert to rot.
"It's clear that from this moment on, our real struggle begins. We will always be on alert, always ready for battle, and when we get the opportunity to kill the enemy, we will not miss it!"
Wind of Death, the veins on her arm gripping the axe becoming prominent, pulled back slightly and hurled the giant weapon as if it were a feather. There wasn't a single sound; the weapon, cleaving through the air, advanced easily as if experiencing no friction at all, and embedded itself into the nape of the neck of the man who slowed his steps thinking he had escaped.
"We can continue advancing!"
It was hard for them to deal with nature, they couldn't defeat it, they could only grit their teeth and keep moving forward; but when it came to humans, the orcs in the eleven-person team had been doing this for years. While the Elite Ten walked carrying the severed heads of their enemies in their two hands, the female orc, the leader of the team that would conquer the central region, had also taken the lifeless heads of the people she killed with her.
Their actions might have seemed barbaric, even murderous, but it had ensured no one crossed their path until they arrived in front of massive stone blocks stacked shapelessly on top of one another. The wall formed by rocks whose surfaces were eroded by the desert sands was about twenty paces long, stretching from one end to the other of the mountainous terrain that was rare throughout the desert.
"Entry to the Heart of the Sand is ten gold pieces per person!"
An old man sitting cross-legged in front of the gate, which was only wide enough for one person to pass through at a time, extended the worn-out bowl in his hand to Wind of Death. His condition was at least as ruined as the gate to be entered, and he was breathing as if he would die the next moment.
"Is this pouch enough?"
Dropping the red velvet pouch bearing a green orc fist into the rusted bowl, Wind of Death watched the old man without moving from her spot.
"A hundred and twenty gold pieces, you may pass!"
Bowing his head slightly, the man knocked on the door with one hand—three long strikes, one short, and then four more long strikes. The door, on the verge of coming off its hinges, cried out as it opened a crack, but the burly orc warrior preferred to wait until it opened completely.
"Ten gold pieces are for you. Take care of yourself, old man!"
Taking a large step and placing her foot inside, Wind of Death began to smile along with the mechanical sounds coming from her right and left sides. Someone who didn't know what they were might have turned their gaze toward them in panic, but the female orc, knowing thanks to her brother that this decrepit gate was surrounded by dozens of war machines, calmly continued walking.
"If we had tried to force our way in, the area we stepped on wouldn't have just blown up; we would have been riddled with holes by the weapons pointed at us from between the massive stone blocks. Even if we somehow managed to pass them and step inside, it would be impossible for us to escape the other weapons whose barrels aren't pointed at us right now!"
Wind of Death had shared the information belonging to the City of the Heart of the Sand as their destination with the Elite Ten, but she started explaining the details now that she managed to get inside.
"I assume you all remember the former state of the Orc Steppes; you know how things were before the Two-Year Wars, even before the Great War. This place is nothing like the Orc Steppes of that time; Heart of the Sand is an even worse place than that.
The terrain we've been walking on for days was the place called the Forsaken Realm on the Mercenaries' Lodge continent, and the city we're in now is the only settlement in these lands. It has walls high enough to withstand sandstorms and mountains surrounding three sides, but most importantly, it is controlled by a group calling themselves the Sand Army.
Just because I said it's controlled, don't you dare think this place has any order. Every rule you've heard, seen, or even had to obey up until today has lost its validity from this moment on. Someone with enough power and influence can do whatever they want, become whoever they want to be.
If you are robbed, raped, or killed in broad daylight, it is solely your problem. There are hundreds of those guys whose heads we carried for a while in every corner, every hole, and every shadow of the city.
This is the Capital of the Forsaken Realm; the city of those outcast from their societies, fugitive criminals, psychopaths, thrill-seekers, and those who couldn't hold on to power anywhere else. The Heart of the Sand is full of dangers for some, and opportunities for others; let's see what falls to our share!"
Wind of Death put an end to the explanations she had been making along the way when they arrived in front of a two-story stone house. The structure, lacking glass in its windows, made of the same material as the walls protecting the Heart of the Sand, and bearing dozens of conflict marks on it, was obviously going to be the first place they would stay.