BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!...
A succession of explosions thundered in the far distance, throwing up clouds of dust as bursts of white light flashed across the horizon.
EeDechi raised her telescope and saw someone under siege in the distance—row after row of gaunt skeleton soldiers surging like a tidal wave toward a lone figure.
"Let's go check it out." EeDechi decided at once, setting the yacht in motion and issuing the order without hesitation.
"No harm in taking a quick look," Barrett said, peering through his brass telescope at the battle with some concern. "But we should avoid any detours. If we're heading deep into the desert, we'll need to ration the water in our tanks."
...
Antilene hovered in the air, her black-and-white dress torn to shreds, both hands clutching a massive cross-shaped scythe. A trickle of blood spilled from the corner of her mouth. A huge fireball shell whistled toward her like a blazing meteor.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!...
From behind a sand dune, several thick, dark steel cannons opened fire, launching more fiery magic projectiles that arced across the sky toward Antilene. After firing, the black iron barrels withdrew behind the dune.
Wave after wave of battered-looking skeleton soldiers staggered toward Antilene in a clumsy charge, gripping rusted iron blades.
Directly beneath her, a man with his left hand wrapped in bandages leaned against a corner of the ruins. A terrified camel crouched trembling beside him.
Antilene clenched her jaw as she hovered in the air, her eyes blazing like the sun and her black-and-white hair streaming like seaweed in a current. To protect her last companion below, she had already activated her Innate Talent Blood Requiem and chosen to fight to the death.
That was right—her escort was down to one. When they first entered the Eight Greed Kings desert, the elite warriors of the Black Scripture had accompanied her, numerous enough to form a full caravan.
In the treacherous, monster-riddled wastes of the Eight Greed Kings desert, humans were nothing—fragile as flowers in a sandstorm, crushed without mercy.
Even the Slane Theocracy's top fighters fell one by one beneath the endless assaults, their lives reaped like tender shoots beneath the scything sands.
Those snarling beasts, together with the undead soldiers howling, "Offer your flesh and blood to the Skeleton Queen," dragged her comrades deep into the desert, tore flesh from bone, and devoured it. Their screams were swallowed by the shifting sands.
When she encountered EeDechi, Antilene had only three warriors left with her. Now, only one remained.
"Do not concern yourself with me! Please, go!" The man leaning against the corner shouted until his voice was hoarse. Blood seeped through his bandages, and his once-pristine white cloak was caked in dust.
Antilene turned a deaf ear to him and continued swinging her cross-shaped great scythe, shattering the fireballs hurtling down from the sky. Each sweep raised a fierce gale that smashed through the relentless waves of skeleton soldiers.
"Antilene, you are the hope of our Slane Theocracy. I am not permitted to know why you entered the Eight Greed Kings desert, but I believe you can save our nation. Please leave. Do not trouble yourself with saving me any longer." The man forced out the words with great effort, his head resting against the camel's back. He then coughed up a mouthful of crimson blood.
Antilene said nothing. Words had never come easily to her. Yet she did not leave and continued her futile resistance against the unending onslaught. If she could not save even this one person, what right did she have—and what power—to save the masses of the Slane Theocracy?
Through the smoke of the explosions, Antilene caught a vague glimpse of a dull yellow skeleton standing atop the crest of a sand dune. It was bizarrely dressed in a red silk gown, its hem trailing across the sand.
With no flesh on its frame, the dull yellow skeleton in the red gown resembled a coat rack draped with a garment.
Could that be the Skeleton Queen? An absurd notion flashed through Antilene's mind. She wanted to rush over and hack the skeleton to pieces, but the barrage of cannon fire detonating before her forced her to halt.
The distant gown-clad skeleton raised one arm as though tugged by unseen strings, and more skeleton soldiers clawed their way out of the desert, swarming toward Antilene's position.
Antilene let out a bitter laugh. She was no reef that could stand forever against the crashing tide of skeleton soldiers. Beneath her, the man had already drawn his dagger and was preparing to slit his own throat, unwilling to remain a burden to her any longer.
Is this how it ends? I really am worthless. I can't even protect my final companion.
Antilene slowly closed her eyes. She had no strength left to stop him.
BOOM!
Like a gleaming silver blade cleaving the heavens, a streamlined white yacht burst onto the battlefield and plowed through the horde of skeleton soldiers, splitting their formation apart.
The figure at the yacht's bow, wielding her giant sword, was EeDechi—the Divine Envoy Antilene had once despised. Antilene's eyes lit up, her heart suddenly overflowing with gratitude and joy. The one from the prophecy who could save the Slane Theocracy had come to save her.
EeDechi planted her feet as though rooted to the yacht's bow. She leveled her giant sword and cleaved through the horde of skeleton soldiers with overwhelming force, sending severed limbs and shards of bone scattering in every direction.
In the distance, the cannons concealed behind the sand dunes trained their muzzles on EeDechi and the others.
Bang bang bang bang bang!
The blasts rang out without pause, and seven or eight fireballs traced parabolic arcs through the air as they hurtled toward them.
"Franco!"
EeDechi's face darkened. She turned and called into the cabin several times but received no answer. Barrett emerged from the cabin, pushing the trembling Franco toward the bow.
Franco tried to retreat into the cabin, but EeDechi seized him, hoisted him up, and held him out in front as a human shield.
The massive fireballs were seconds from striking them. Franco hurriedly chanted his spells and waved his magic wand. Mana coalesced into a cyan shield of light at the bow. The incoming fireballs crashed against it, unleashing an earth-shaking explosion as flames roared skyward.
Through the dense smoke, the yacht drove on through the dust-choked air, its white hull completely unharmed. It raced toward the ruins, where Barrett reached out, seized the bandaged man, and hauled him aboard.
...
At the crest of the distant sand dune, the skeleton in the red gown lowered its arm, stepped backward, and vanished into the desert. The nearby skeleton soldiers ceased crawling out from beneath the ground. Those already present dragged their mangled frames away, scattering in every direction.
Yellow sand blotted out the sun. Antilene summoned a fierce wind and scattered the dust. She landed slowly, pressed one hand to her chest, and inclined her head to EeDechi.
"My thanks for coming to our aid, Divine Envoy."
The bandaged man, slumped on the yacht, stared in shock. It was the first time he had ever seen Antilene bow. After all, back in the Slane Theocracy, she had never lowered her head even to the Pope or the Black Scripture commander. She had always been proud and distant.
"You're welcome," EeDechi answered with easy confidence. "Where are you headed? I might be willing to take you part of the way. After all, it looks as though you've come to the Eight Greed Kings desert to oppose Ainz as well."
"We are going to..." Antilene raised her head. "No. I am going to the Sevenfold Heavens."