SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 516: Final Trial [VII]

Before Trafalgar stretched the mini desert, resembling a patch of earth long abandoned by life itself. Behind him rose the final withered trees, their trunks ghostly white and branches devoid of leaves, while ahead waited only blistering heat, gusting winds, and endless sands pierced by shadowy stones and protruding veins of fractured soil. The mana here carried an altered essence. In the forest, it flowed vibrant and humid, restless amid roots and foliage.

Here, it seemed parched, concealed beneath the earth like a presence lurking in anticipation rather than flourishing.

Trafalgar advanced steadily without haste, his boots dipping gently into the sand with every stride. Grains murmured softly around his feet, their faint rustle lost whenever breezes strengthened. His eyes scanned the terrain ceaselessly, absorbing the rolling dunes, protruding rock structures, and subtle dips hinting at a massive entity's recent traverse.

’I’ve reached the desert, but what kind of monsters are in a place like this?’

That query lingered as he pressed onward. The forest dangers had been direct enough—claws, fangs, shells, swarms. Threats there struck openly and urgently, challenging if your sword outpaced their rush. This area already felt distinct. Too exposed for arboreal traps, too hushed for herds, too vacant for feeble quarry. Regions like this served a single purpose.

It concealed a dread worth fearing.

His eyes sharpened as he peered deeper ahead.

Earth's rising shimmer warped the far horizon, twisting distant outlines. Jagged stone columns dotted the dunes like fractured relics. Beside one lay half-submerged bones of some ancient beast, scoured bare and burnished by gales. That stillness held more significance than any racket.

’And from what Zafira said, Alfons and she seem to be aiming high as well. I suppose I need to find something on that level.’

The notion failed to vex him. Instead, it honed his edge. He understood this trial surpassed simple passage now. Zafira scorned mediocrity in such a realm, and Alfons—despite Trafalgar's grievances—boasted pride enough to hunt a mark that stunned. With them reaching for peaks, securing top rank via some trivial sand fiend carried zero impact.

He sought a prize whose carcass would resonate upon his return.

The wind shifted.

This time it blew from the left, fiercer than prior gusts, laden with abrasive particles slicing the air. Trafalgar paused, cocking his head faintly. No motion stirred the surface. Merely sand. Still, primal senses coursing through him had ignited. His hand eased downward, fingers lax, stance supple.

He resumed walking, pace now deliberate and measured.

A modest sand embankment lay before him, rising no taller than chest height, bending around a grouping of ebony boulders. Trafalgar scaled it leisurely and halted at the crest. Beyond, the landscape sprawled wider, appearing at first glance unchanged from the surrounds.

Dunes.

Stone.

Barren scorch.

The sand stirred, defying the breeze.

Far off, the anomaly commenced as a subtle subsurface ripple, initially mere unease in the grains' drift. A track advanced below the desert's skin, parting sands with innate command. Trafalgar's focus snapped to it instantly.

The entity barreled toward him.

The ripple expanded relentlessly each instant. Grains heaved and tumbled from the rising bulge, as if the wasteland bulged from underworld forces. The track swelled to a heap. The heap surged to a crest. By its arrival at the embankment's foot, vibrations thrummed beneath Trafalgar's stance.

Then it burst forth.

The head exploded from the sands in savage fury, flinging sheets of gold dust skyward. What ascended from the desert's depths was no mere tunneling brute. A worm, certainly, though the term paled for such a colossus. Its girth dwarfed a standing man against one mere segment. Layered bands of armored hide sheathed its form in ridges of rusted iron and bleached bone tones, every band fringed with razor ridges primed to shred rock to dust. It ascended further, ever taller, allowing Trafalgar to finally assess its magnitude.

Fifteen meters at least.

Perhaps nearing twenty.

Its maw gaped in spiraling rings, bordered by tiers of recurved fangs funneling to an abyssal core that devoured all light. Sands cascaded in rivulets from its bulk. Its advance bore a gravity rare in beasts—not the swift savagery of a lunge, but colossal, as though the ground itself had risen in rebellion.

Trafalgar regarded it, the edge of his lip curling upward.

’Looks like it’s my lucky day. It came right to me.’

The desert worm suspended itself in the air just long enough to declare its arrival. Its enormous, hideous body coiled once through the sky before slamming back into the dunes. A surge of sand blasted outward like a tidal wave. As the dust haze started to dissipate, it had already burrowed beneath the ground once more, bequeathing a vast crater and a faint rumble vibrating through the earth.

Maledicta instantly formed in his grasp, as dark-blue mana gathered into the sword’s recognizable outline before its solid mass filled his hand. Simultaneously, obsidian armor started emerging across his frame, forged from mana and snapping into position piece by piece with flawless precision that made it seem less like putting on gear and more like a concealed form unveiling itself. Black panels encased him in a sleek, predatory flow, each part connecting to the next until the full suit devoured the light nearby rather than bouncing it back. No polish shone on its exterior. Illumination itself got consumed by it. Only the slim golden lines along the helmet stayed visible after the last segment locked over his features, throbbing once before settling into quiet.

High above the hunting grounds, one projection swung completely onto him.

Selara leaned in first. "Well. That’s no small prey."

Eryndor let out a low rumble that might’ve been a chuckle or a nod of respect. "Now that’s more like prey worth slicing."

Althea’s focus intensified. "A sand worm."

Kaelen observed the projection silently for a moment, his face shifting subtly to reveal even he hadn’t anticipated Trafalgar spotting something of that caliber so fast. When he spoke at last, his tone held steady, yet the gravity in it was unmistakable.

"So that’s what he’s found."

His gaze stayed fixed on the projection, taking in the black armor, the unsheathed sword, and the desert rippling beneath Trafalgar’s boots.

"Good," Kaelen murmured softly. "Let’s see if he truly lives up to the hype everyone’s buzzing about."