The desert sun beat down, stinging his skin, but Yul simply adjusted his face cover without complaint. Mounted on his black stallion, he moved in sync with the animal’s steady pace. His long black hair, tied back low, swayed gently against his dusty dark cloak. Amidst the dry sand and dust, his sharp, sky-blue eyes scanned the landscape.

  He had been wandering for months, moving from one oasis to the next. He honed his senses under the desert sky, searching for the strength needed to achieve his goal.

  His horse came to a halt when Yul’s ears caught an unfamiliar sound. It was not just the hiss of the wind, but the clashing of metal and the panicked neighing of horses. He directed his gaze behind the sand dune ahead.

  A few hundred meters below, a merchant caravan was trapped. A group of bandits had them surrounded, flying black flags decorated with skulls.

  It was the symbol of the desert bandits.

  "Damn it," Yul muttered, a thin smirk appearing on his lips. He disliked unnecessary violence, but he could not stand by and watch injustice unfold.

  Without hesitation, he dismounted. Yul took a position at the top of the dune, kneeling on one knee as he observed the flow of the battle.

  The fight was chaotic. The mercenaries guarding the caravan were fighting desperately, but the bandits outnumbered them nearly two to one and fought with brutal ferocity.

  The leader of the mercenaries, a burly man with a scar running across his face, shouted orders. His sword spun, cutting down any enemy who drew near. However, their defenses were beginning to falter.

  Yul checked the remaining arrows in his quiver. Twenty-one arrows. Enough.

  He wasted no time. His right hand skillfully reached for the bow slung across his back, while his left hand pulled an arrow from the quiver.

  From a safe distance, he released his shot.

  Whizz!

  The first arrow flew, hitting a weak point behind the neck guard of a bandit who had just raised an axe, sending him crashing down. Without waiting, Yul took a second arrow.

  Whizz! Whizz!

  The next two arrows followed, finding targets in the chests and shoulders of the enemy. They fell before they even realized where the attack was coming from. Every one of Yul's movements was mechanical and efficient. There was no hesitation or overflowing rage, only the calculation of distance and wind speed.

  "Who is that?!" the mercenary leader shouted, his eyes searching for the mysterious figure providing sudden aid.

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  "There's a marksman on the hill!" a bandit screamed, but it was too late.

  Yul mounted his horse again. He spurred the animal down the steep sandy slope. When he was only a few meters from the crowd, he let go of his bow and leaped from the galloping horse.

  He landed with his knees slightly bent to absorb the shock, his hand immediately drawing the longsword from his waist.

  Shiing!

  The blade gleamed, reflecting the harsh sunlight. A bandit lunged with a curved sword, but Yul simply shifted slightly to the side.

  In a split second, he swung his sword in a swift, circular motion toward his opponent's leg tendons. The bandit fell to his knees, groaning in pain.

  With the same momentum, the tip of his sword pierced the chest of another bandit.

  His fighting style involved no shouting or unnecessary movements. He focused on anatomy. He moved like a skilled butcher, swift and lethal.

  A large bandit with a giant axe swung his weapon at Yul. He ducked low, and the axe blade passed over his head with a whoosh.

  When the bandit left himself open, Yul nimbly used the hilt of his sword to strike the opponent's jaw. Crack. The bone creaked and snapped.

  The mercenary leader, pinned down by three bandits at once, witnessed the scene. His eyes widened.

  This person... he is no ordinary soldier. He is a silent storm.

  The battle ended quickly after Yul joined. The bandits' morale crumbled in the face of Yul’s unmatched skill. Within minutes, the surviving bandits chose to retreat and fled toward the horizon.

  A sudden silence fell, leaving only the heavy breathing of the surviving mercenaries.

  Yul flicked his sword with a sharp snap. He walked toward the nearest bandit corpse, tearing off a clean piece of cloth to wipe the blood from his blade. Once satisfied the weapon was clean, he sheathed it.

  He ignored the stunned and admiring gazes of the remaining mercenaries. He spared a brief glance at the caravan to ensure everyone was safe, then turned, preparing to leave.

  "Wait, young man!" the mercenary leader called out.

  The large man with the scar across his cheek walked over. He wiped sweat and blood from his forehead with the back of his hand, looking at Yul with both scrutiny and respect. "That fight... that was clean work. What is your name?"

  "Yul," he answered shortly without turning around.

  "Just Yul? I am Fazad of the Desert Wolves. We are mercenaries." Fazad chuckled, then extended his hand. "You fight like a trained soldier. It is rare to see a youth your age with such composure in the middle of chaos. Are you a wanderer?"

  Yul stopped and stared at Fazad’s hand for a moment before shaking it with a firm grip. "You could say that."

  "Listen, Yul. We lost four men today. This caravan needs an escort to the next city, and I need someone who knows how to use a sword without talking too much," Fazad offered seriously. "The pay is fair, the food is guaranteed, and you will have connections in our guild. How about joining us?"

  Yul remained silent for a moment. Living alone in the desert had trained his endurance, but joining a guild meant access to information, better weapons, and greater power.

  This was the opportunity he had been looking for. He looked toward the setting sun, and Entya’s image flashed through his mind.

  He had only one goal. Becoming strong enough to bring Entya back.

  "I agree," Yul said with a firm nod. His gaze was now filled with a burning determination. "I will join."

  "Welcome to the Desert Wolves, Yul. You won't regret it." He clapped Yul loudly on the shoulder, sending dust flying from the young man’s cloak. "Get your things. We leave in ten minutes before it gets dark."

  Fazad grinned widely. "Once we reach the city, we will celebrate the victory and our new member."

  Yul simply nodded, his sharp gaze fixed straight ahead as he thought of his next move. There was no more doubt. the path to becoming stronger had just opened.