Jax leaned back, crossing his arms as he watched the man hyperventilate. The panic rolling off the stranger was palpable, but Jax felt nothing but cool detachment.

“So, you’re with War-Tower Aegis,” Jax said flatly. “You guys have a functional Defense Tower. Why are you running around the wasteland begging for help?”

The man swallowed hard, sweat carving clean tracks through the grime on his face. “That’s the problem! The Sentry Tower is failing. We’re being overrun. If we don’t get support now, the entire guild is finished!”

Jax nodded slowly. That explained the desperation. But something didn’t add up. The sun was high overhead—dead noon. In his experience, Sandworms were nocturnal hunters. They hated the heat.

“You said you’re under attack,” Jax said, eyes narrowing. “Right now?”

“Yes! I’ve been running to every nearby Outpost for help.” The man wiped his forehead with a trembling hand. “The swarm is massive. Look, friend, I can see you haven’t been hit yet. Please. Come help us. Save the Syndicate.”

“Who are you, exactly?”

“I’m an investor!” the man blurted out. “I own equity in that tower! Look, I’m not asking for charity. Anyone who helps us exterminate the swarm gets one Core. Per person.”

Jax almost laughed. One Core? That wasn’t even enough to buy a bottle of water. It held zero appeal for him now.

However, the intel was worth more than the pay. If Sandworms were swarming in broad daylight, the patterns of the wasteland were changing. That was a threat he needed to understand.

But he wasn’t going to leave his base unguarded. This could be a classic ‘lure the tiger from the mountain’ strategy—draw him out with a sob story, then circle back to seize his fortress and Level 1 Tower.

“You go ahead,” Jax told him. “I need to grab my gear. I’ll meet you there.”

Relief washed over the investor’s face. He bowed repeatedly, hands clasped. “Thank you! Thank you, friend! I still need to hit Sector 32, so I’ll see you there!”

The man sprinted off. Jax watched him disappear over the ridge before turning back to the cliff.

Barney was trudging through the sand, hauling a massive tree trunk on his shoulder, sweat pouring down his face like rain.

“Barney, that’s enough wood for now,” Jax called out. “Take a break.”

Barney grinned, a wide, innocent expression that didn’t match his hulking frame. “Hehe, Jax! I’m not tired!”

“You will be when you get heatstroke. Get up top. Now.” Jax’s tone left no room for argument. “I have to go out for a bit.”

Barney’s smile vanished instantly. He dropped the log with a thud.

“Jax… where are you going? I want to come!”

“No. Listen to me, big guy.” Jax gripped the giant’s arm. “This rock is our home. I need you to guard it. If anyone tries to climb up and take our home, you smash them. Understand?”

Barney looked torn, his eyes wet, but the seriousness in Jax’s voice anchored him. He nodded slowly.

“I understand. Come back fast, okay?”

“I will. Now go up and pull the rope. Do not lower it for anyone but me.”

Jax waited until Barney had hauled himself up and retracted the rope. Just to be safe, Jax spent a few minutes hauling extra timber up the side, ensuring the giant had ammunition to throw down if things got ugly.

Secure in the knowledge that his base was now an impregnable fortress, Jax set off toward Sector 34.

It was a short trek, maybe thirty minutes across the scorching dunes. As Jax crested the final dune overlooking Sector 34’s central camp, the sounds of chaotic combat drifted on the wind.

Below, a ragged group of survivors was fighting a losing battle against a swarm of Sandworms beneath a raised platform.

The scene was a mess. The Sandworms were aggressive, thrashing and snapping in the sunlight. The defenders were terrified, engaging in hit-and-run tactics, kiting the monsters but failing to land killing blows. No one dared to commit to a real fight.

Jax scanned the crowd, assessing the tactical situation. Then, his gaze locked onto a figure near the rear.

His blood ran cold.

Butch.

The scar-faced thug was standing there, watching the chaos with a smirk.

Jax froze. Before he could decide whether to retreat or attack, the investor from earlier spotted him and waved frantically.

“Friend! Over here! Where’s your team?”

Jax kept his face neutral, forcing himself to walk over. “Just me.”

“Huh?” The investor’s face fell. “Just… you? One guy?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Jax asked, his voice hardening. “If you don’t want the help, I’m walking.”

Jax was already looking for an excuse to bail. He wasn’t afraid of Butch, but fighting him now, surrounded by unknown variables, was suicide. He needed to pick his moment.

“No, no, stay!” The investor waved his hands apologetically. “Every gun counts. Come with me.”

Jax didn’t move. “Hold on. I have a question first. Why are the worms attacking at noon? They’re nocturnal.”

The investor sighed, casting a nervous glance at the battlefield. “You haven’t heard? There are rumors of a higher-tier insectoid migration. Apex predators are moving into the underground networks.”

“Apex predators?”

“Yeah. Something big is pushing the Sandworms out of their nests. They have nowhere to go, so they’re surfacing in the day, desperate and hungry.”

Jax nodded slowly, filing that terrifying piece of information away. He knew nothing about insectoid hierarchy, but displacement migration made sense.

BANG.

A sharp crack echoed across the valley.

The crowd erupted into cheers.

“A gun!” the investor shouted, eyes wide with delight. “Someone has a firearm! The tower is saved!”

Jax looked toward the source of the noise.

Butch stood on a crate, a smoking rifle in his hands. He looked like a king surveying his subjects.

Jax recognized the weapon immediately. It was a standard-issue military rifle—the same kind carried by the guards who had been escorting the prisoners before the crash. Butch must have looted it from the bodies.

“Alright, listen up!” Butch bellowed, his voice carrying over the dying screeches of the worms. “The Iron Spear Syndicate is claiming this commission! The rest of you lot can piss off!”

The gathered mercenaries grumbled, clenching their makeshift weapons. But as Butch leveled the rifle toward the swarm, casually blasting another Sandworm into green paste, they fell silent.

Angry, but cowed. Nobody argued with a gun in the wasteland.

Butch barked orders to his lackeys. Bang. Bang. Bang.

The rifle barked rhythmically. Sandworms attempting to scale the platform were picked off one by one, their bodies tumbling back into the dust. The crisis evaporated in seconds.

The investor beside Jax let out a whoop of joy and sprinted toward Butch, eager to kiss the ring of his savior.

Within minutes, the other mercenaries began shouting, demanding compensation for their travel time. They had come to fight, but Butch had stolen the kill and the contract.

The argument quickly devolved into a shouting match. Jax watched from the periphery, shaking his head. This was a mess, and he had seen enough.

He turned to leave.

“Hey! Friend!”

The investor jogged back over, looking apologetic but relieved. He was surrounded by a few sycophants now.

“Sorry about that,” the man said, offering a hasty salute. “Looks like we don’t need extra hands after all. Thanks for coming out, though.”

Jax shrugged. “No worries. Quick question before I go—that guy with the gun. Which guild is he with?”

The investor glanced back at Butch with a mix of fear and admiration.

“Him? That’s Butch. His crew is from Sector 17. They’re with the Iron Spear Syndicate.”

“Sector 17?” Jax frowned. “That’s a logistics zone. There are no worm routes there.”

“Exactly,” the man nodded. “They’re mercenaries. They come out here to handle ‘problems’ for a fee. Expensive as hell, though. Usually, we wouldn’t hire them unless a Sentry Tower was at risk.”

In the distance, a few more of Butch’s men arrived, dragging a cart loaded with crates of ammunition—specifically, heavy bolts for a Sentry Tower.

“Ah! The ammo is here!” The investor’s eyes lit up. He brushed past Jax without another word. “Great! Get those loaded! And for god’s sake, do the daily inspections next time! Anyone who screws up again is getting kicked out of War-Tower Aegis!”

Jax stood alone in the dust for a moment, watching Butch laugh with his men.

“Iron Spear Syndicate,” Jax whispered, testing the name on his tongue. It tasted like blood.

“I’ll remember that.”