All Brothers, Assemble
“All brothers who have not departed on the hunt—assemble at the barracks immediately.”
His single command threw the tribe into an uproar.
The Ulan tribe's territory wasn't limited to just the central camp where Hien's barracks stood. From Biman Gorge to Akla Oasis, all the way to Jinton's Swamp... the Ulan tribe's vast dominion encompassed most of the southern desert.
“What the hell is going on? Father himself summoning us like this?”
“Haven't you heard? We've got an eighth brother now.”
“Is that really such a big deal? He didn't call us all together like this when he took in the seventh.”
“True.”
“With Merka hyung there, we'll find out why soon enough.”
The order from headquarters had prompted the second son, Syrin, along with the fourth, Yoran, and the sixth, Bin, who had been stationed at the outposts, to hurry back. Sandstorms whipped up fiercely in the wake of their racing procession across the desert.
It looked for all the world like they were marching off to war.
And that was only natural. Each of the three was followed by five hundred riders, forming a force of over a thousand strong.
Not a huge number, but more than enough to topple a small kingdom if they put their power to use.
That was why the brothers had taken charge of separate territories—to avoid any friction among themselves.
“What the hell is Merka doing? If something's come up, he should've told us first. That goody-two-shoes face of his, shoving us out to the boonies while he slyly sticks right by Father's side...”
“Hyung. Even so, with the eldest not here, you should still show some respect...”
“Bin, shut your mouth. Syrin hyung is talking.”
“...Sorry.”
Yoran's sharp rebuke silenced Bin.
“Hyung, my ass. He's the same age as me. You really think some bastard we don't even know came from the same womb makes him one of us?”
Unlike the direct heirs, Bin was one Hien had adopted, so he seemed wary of their moods.
“Yoran, didn't you hear anything? You were the closest to the village, even with Nest graduation coming up.”
“I was out on the final sweep...”
“Useless.”
“Sorry, hyung.”
Yoran looked troubled at Syrin's jab. Unlike how he'd just snapped at his younger brother Bin, he couldn't stand up to Syrin at all.
“Still, Father summoning us personally means it's something big, no doubt.”
“Yeah. Let's hurry.”
It would take days of nonstop riding from their territories to reach headquarters, but there was no time for rest.
Haien Temir, master of the Ten Thousand Arrows. They knew it well: they were merely single arrows in his quiver.
Thus, even the pettiest order demanded they stake their lives on it.
“We pay respects to the Desert Lord.”
“We pay respects to the Desert Lord.”
The three who had returned to headquarters stood at once to either side of the barracks entrance without pause. Merka awaited them there.
“Enter.”
The heavy voice from within made their legs tremble, though it was just three words.
“What the hell's going on?”
“A kid passed the ritual. One Father picked up in the desert.”
Bin nodded eagerly at Merka's words—a new brother in the same boat as him.
“He called us back for that? We dropped everything, left the frontier crawling with monsters...”
Syrin growled at Merka like he might lunge.
“And?”
“...What?”
“Are monsters more important than Father's command?”
Syrin blinked, caught off guard by this side of Merka. Normally, he'd brush off provocations with a laugh.
But now, even he seemed tense.
The atmosphere feels off,Syrin thought, sharp enough to sense it was best not to push further.
“The eighth broke Father's record in the ritual. A record unbroken for fifty years.”
“...!!!”
“...!!!”
“And if that wasn't enough, he took down a basilisk on Hunt Day—all by himself. Thanks to him, I ended up looking like a sack of straw.”
Merka's words hit like a thunderbolt. Hien's sons exchanged baffled glances.
“Syrin. You'd best watch yourself. If you're after the Ulan throne, your rival might not be me—but the eighth.”
“Wh-what the hell? I would never...”
“Everyone in the tribe knows you want to best me. I don't care who takes the throne, so long as your ambition revives the tribe.”
Merka patted Syrin's shoulder.
“That's why I'm telling you. I felt it the first time I saw him. He might even devour your greed.”
He jerked his head.
“Look.”
A lone figure stood where his gaze landed.
“There's the eighth.”
All eyes snapped to him at Merka's words.
What? That little squirt broke Father's record...? Doesn't look like much.
Syrin eyed Adel, who had entered the barracks. Far smaller than him, barely looking thirteen—hard to see him as any threat despite Merka's warning.
“So you're the one.”
Adel met their stares.
Excluding Merka hyung who was already here, three brothers gathered... More than I expected.
Such a turnout for a brother's ritual was rare.
I see. Got it.
Adel grasped Hien's intent.
Father's using me to stir up the brothers.
To Hien, one heir was enough. An exceptional hunter to inherit his throne.
They say he adopts sons to fuel that competition.
But his motives didn't matter—whether out of pity for orphans or as bait for his blood sons' rivalry.
One truth stood clear.
Only one among us can become the desert's overlord.
Bloodline be damned.
And that will be me.
“Hey! I just asked you...”
Grrr...
Syrin shouted at Adel, who ignored him and moved to enter the barracks. But his yell cut short.
The black wolf behind Adel bared razor fangs, poised to pounce.
“Y-you little shit...!!! Do you even know where you are, bringing that here?!”
Yoran, beside Syrin, yelped at the wolf's growl.
What the hell is that? That breed in the desert? Never seen a wolf like it...
Veterans of the sands, yet they'd never encountered a wolf with such glossy black fur.
Look at those eyes. Heh heh...
Kalderet chuckled like an old man amused by squabbling kids.
“...Yours?”
“Not mine.”
Adel answered Syrin this time, though he barely registered.
“Funny bastard. If it's not yours, why bring it here? Father's orders a joke to you?”
“It follows of its own will.”
Adel brushed past Syrin and pushed open the barracks door.
“They say beasts know strength. You brothers should know better—especially Temir heirs. For you, it must be even more obvious. Excuse me.”
“...Hey, you. Stop...”
He reached to grab Adel as he passed, but the door swung wide, revealing Hien on his throne, chin propped, awaiting them.
Syrin bowed hastily and slipped inside.
“Slam dunk.”
“...Shut up.”
Merka smirked at Syrin's flushed face and patted his shoulder lightly.
Grrr...
Inside, Kalderet growled low, then crouched obediently before the barracks like a well-trained pet at Adel's gesture.
Me, an ancient god, playing pet dog. Pathetic. How about I chew off that Syrin punk's leg bone right now?
Adel ignored the grumbling in his head, stroking Kalderet's mane with an affectionate smile.
“No chit-chat. Wait. It's not time yet.”
He pressed a finger to the wolf's brow, lecturing gently.
But “not yet” instead of “no” carried clear meaning.
Grumble... Evil brat.
“Amusing words. That it follows you of its own accord. You do catch the eye.”
Hien glanced at Kalderet before fixing on Adel.
Even he coveted that sleek black-furred wolf.
“Beautiful. Will you give it to me?”
“All the desert belongs to Lord Hien. But taming depends on the heart.”
“Insolent!!!”
“You saying Father can't tame a pathetic mutt like that?!!”
Syrin and Yoran erupted at Adel's words, but Hien silenced them with a raised hand.
“Syrin. Broaden your gaze. Can't you grasp the youngest's meaning?”
“...Pardon?”
“Merka.”
Hien turned to his eldest.
“He...”
Merka hesitated, then continued.
“Doesn't mean the wolf.”
“Then?”
“He means himself.”
Heh heh...
Hien unwittingly curled one lip in a faint smile at Merka's words.
“You intend not to be tamed.”
But that smile felt like a blade's edge.
The desert lord indeed.
What? What'd he say? Mad bastard... Talking back to Father? Declaring rebellion?
He's done something even ten lives couldn't fix.
Adel. What now?
Shock, suspicion, curiosity filled their eyes.
“Yes.”
Unlike their stunned faces, Adel's reply was plain, stating simple fact.