The storm outside raged wildly. The wind roared like a thousand wild beasts and carried desert sand that battered the translucent blue shield Louis had created. Yet the shield remained firm, trembling gently but not breaking.
William sat quietly in the open carriage and sensed something more disturbing than just the wind. The silver butterflies he had released were restless, fluttering their tiny wings erratically and flying in circles as if lost. His red eyes caught a faint glimpse of light behind the swirling storm. Something was hiding there—and the butterflies knew it.
Then, a soft cracking sound could be heard. A thin line of cracks slowly spread from the surface of the blue dome. The people inside the caravan immediately panicked, and anxious whispers filled the stormy air.
"What is this?!" Sir Roster shouted from the carriage window, his face flushed with fear. "Why is the shield cracking? Are you incapable of protecting me? I didn't pay you to see it shatter!"
William let out a long snort, restraining himself from shooting the fat man a murderous glare. He lazily glanced at the fat man. "Then why don't you go out and deal with it? Or better yet, we'll leave you here. It would be fun to watch you argue with the storm."
Sir Roster glared, his face reddening further as he spat and pointed a trembling finger at William. "You damn brat! You dare speak to me like that? I still hold a grudge against you!"
William stood slowly, a faint smile on his face. His tone was casual, but his words cut like thin blades. "Grudge? Please keep it to yourself. But listen to this: You two." He turned to Louis and Elizabeth—are honorable nobles and sentinels of the Royal Order. "Are you willing to be treated like lackeys by someone like that? I won't. I still have my pride. I know there are civilized people out there who are more deserving of my help than a foul-mouthed merchant."
The words were light, but they shook the atmosphere. Louis and Elizabeth immediately turned to Sir Roster. They did not glare angrily at him, but rather, they looked at him with unfathomable calm and almost defiant expressions. For a mere merchant, the gaze of two Royal Order nobles was enough to paralyze his courage.
Sir Roster suddenly paled. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He knew his position well: he was merely a wealthy merchant without royal blood or political power. In front of Louis and Elizabeth, he was too lowly to dare be arrogant.
"I'm sorry, Young Master Louis. I'm sorry, Miss Elizabeth. Please don't take it to heart," he stammered as he hastily exited the carriage and bowed deeply.
Louis stared at him coldly, his voice calm yet sharp. "You should stay in the carriage, Sir Roster. Leaving the safety of the carriage will only invite harm. Don't repeat this foolishness again."
Sir Roster fell silent, his face tense with fear and shame. He quickly re-entered the carriage without another word.
The storm outside continued to roar and spin relentlessly, as if it were swallowing the entire desert into a vortex of darkness. There was no sign of the wind abating or shifting from its path. It was as if the storm were deliberately hovering above them, waiting for the right moment to destroy everything.
William could only release five silver butterflies to sneak out of the protective dome. However, the tiny creatures seemed unsettled. Their wings trembled and they flew erratically before shattering into motes of light. They returned with no clear information. This alone was enough to make William furrow his brow.
"There's something unnatural about this storm," he murmured softly, his red eyes gleaming.
But he wasn't the only one who had noticed. Louis stepped forward, his face solemn. The young nobleman's hands moved slowly, first waving sideways and then upwards as if feeling the air. A pale blue mana aura seeped out from his body, enveloping his surroundings before breaking into fine streams that spread outward.
William narrowed his eyes. "What is he doing?"
Elizabeth answered calmly but tensely. "Louis is releasing his mana aura outward. It's a method of detecting mana disturbances in the surroundings. If I'm not mistaken, this storm isn't purely natural. There's a magical domain mixed within it."
Elizabeth's words only confirmed what William had been feeling. Strange storms had indeed begun appearing in the Golden Triangle Route over the past four years, something that had never happened before. Although he had been in a deep sleep for fifteen years, the Silver Butterfly had never stopped gathering information. From all the reports he had kept, this kind of storm phenomenon did not fit into the normal cycles of nature.
The more he thought about it, the clearer it became that this was no mere coincidence.
Then, without warning, two small objects fell directly in front of them, slipping through the protective dome silently. Grains of sand scattered when they hit the ground. Louis, who was standing closest, immediately ducked, reaching out with his hand before stopping abruptly. His face tensed.
William turned, his eyes immediately fixed on the objects. They were two small dice, one showing a three and the other showing a five.
They were just dice—but not ordinary ones.
William could feel the magical pressure emanating from them. A distinct magical aura pressed against the air around him, sending a chill down his spine. Elizabeth and Jones both tensed as if they had sensed what was coming.
"Intermediate magical dice," William thought, a faint smile crossing his face. "Interesting..."
At that moment, a deep, cold voice echoed in their ears, seemingly piercing their minds.
"Domain, Sandstorm."
The ground beneath their feet trembled. The sand that had been firmly planted suddenly rose and flew into the air, forming a new vortex. A gale wind mixed with thousands of grains of sand, shooting them out like sharp needles.
The storm-generated sand didn't penetrate the magic shield; it merely swirled around them like a caged beast. However, no one suspected that the storm was anything other than a natural phenomenon. Two faintly gleaming dice appeared on the ground and rolled slowly until they came to a stop right in front of William and his entourage.
Instantly, the air filled with a faint, shrill sound like a woman's voice. The sound echoed from all directions, carrying with it a piercing floral scent. It was both sweet and intoxicating, making his chest feel tight.
William was stunned. He recognized the scent all too clearly. It was the same fragrant powder that the purple-robed woman—his mysterious attacker who had nearly killed him earlier—had used. Now, the sand beneath his feet was floating and swirling wildly, like the storm outside.
"What the hell?!" Sir Roster shouted, his voice breaking and his face pale. "How did the sandstorm get inside the shield?"
The plump man immediately closed the carriage window tightly. Inside, his family screamed and took cover. They ignored their men, who were struggling desperately outside. Some held down the tarp to keep their goods from being swept away. Others tried to restrain the horses, which were neighing in panic. The animals were trapped in fear, jumping wildly with nowhere to go.
Attacks from both inside and outside were wearing down Louis's shield. Cracks appeared and spread rapidly, like shattered glass, until the shield finally shattered with a crash.
"Hold on!" Louis shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the storm.
A wave of sand attacked them mercilessly. The entire caravan was swept away: the horses, the carriage, the goods, and the Roster family, who were screaming hysterically from behind the carriage.
William was swept away by the terrifying maelstrom. His body was lifted up and separated from his companions, who were mere shadows visible beyond the wall of sand. The storm swirled madly, spinning like a hellish, bottomless funnel.
Panicking, William released his silver butterfly. Its glowing wings immediately circled around him, enveloping him in a sparkling cocoon. The sandstorm raged on, but the cocoon held back every grain of sand that threatened to tear his skin.
The sounds vanished; only the howling wind remained. William didn't know what had happened to the others—if they were still alive or had vanished into the vortex.
His body continued to float. He felt like a dry leaf, helplessly carried by the wind. Then, slowly, the force weakened. He was no longer swaying but falling peacefully.
Without his silver butterfly cocoon, he would have fallen to the ground. Now, however, his body landed lightly, as if lowered by an invisible hand. He remained tightly wrapped in the soft, silver cocoon—silent, dark, and unfamiliar.