The maid squad is too strong, what use is there for me, the Demon King?

The group left the shelter of the mountains and was completely exposed to the scorching sun's fury in the "Scorching Throat".

Beneath my feet are scorching, flowing golden sand dunes, each grain of sand greedily absorbing the blazing sunlight overhead, which has just risen but already reveals its incandescent color.

The heatwave was like a solid wall, pressing in from all directions. Every breath felt like inhaling scalding sand, burning my throat and lungs.

The air distorted and trembled under the high temperature, making the distant scenery appear as illusory as a reflection in the water.

They were heading due east, towards the blazing sun.

That enormous fireball hanging in the cloudless dome was the very source worshipped by the cultists who had nearly incinerated them yesterday; it was the symbol that had once shone on the chest of the cult bishop; it was a reflection of the red-haired boy's soul-burning fire. Now, however, they were to actively and unmasked march towards it.

Gray walked at the front, his black robe, which seemed to devour light, looking out of place in the blazing sunlight, yet it seemed to form its own domain, where even the hottest rays could not truly touch the sand beneath his feet.

He walked with composure, as if the scorching inferno was merely a gentle breeze.

Sita followed closely behind, his wide black robe billowing slightly in the hot wind, his hand occasionally brushing unintentionally across his waist, as if checking something.

Her steps were precise and steady, as if she were measuring this deadly desert.

Aita felt it most intensely.

Her orange hair flew in the hot wind like dancing flames, and her wheat-colored skin was instantly covered with a fine layer of sweat, which evaporated quickly in the extreme dryness, leaving behind itchy salt frost.

The wounds on her ribs and arms burned and stung under the heat and sweat. She licked her slightly chapped lips, her orange-gold vertical pupils narrowed slightly, resisting the glaring sunlight, but her gaze was unusually firm.

She tried to regulate her breathing, her bare feet stepping on the scorching sand, each step leaving a shallow footprint that was quickly wiped away by the wind and sand.

The orange cat tail drooped slightly, close to its side, as if trying to minimize the area exposed to sunlight.

The team moved slowly but steadily in the boundless sea of ​​sand, like a few tiny black dots.

The massive black mountain range (Shad Mountain) gradually shrank behind them, eventually becoming a blurry black silhouette on the horizon.

Ahead, there were only undulating, endless golden sand dunes and the blazing sun hanging in the center of the sky, relentlessly radiating its world-burning power.

They trudged through the scorching sand, carrying wounds and prisoners, towards the east, towards that celestial body that bred endless light and heat, but also destruction and madness, moving forward in silence.

The ridgelines of the dunes stretched out beneath our feet, half shrouded in deep shadows and half exposed to blinding white light, just like the path that the Shadow Court had always walked, forever on the edge of life and death, light and shadow.

Their shadows stretched long behind them, like the black mountains reluctantly holding them back, or like the silent gaze cast by the desert itself.

They didn't know what their destination was; after all, even Gray himself couldn't explain what the "red crosses" on the map in his head represented.

I don't know how long I've been trekking through this golden inferno. Time has lost its meaning; all that remains is the ever-rising, increasingly intense white sun overhead, the endless, scorching sand beneath my feet that sucks up every drop of sweat, and the elongated shadow behind me, constantly being erased by the wind and sand.

Gray remained at the forefront, his light-devouring black robes casting a moving, absolute shadow even under the blazing sun, and the sand beneath his feet seemed to cool slightly with his presence. His pace was steady, as if he would never tire.

Suddenly, Gray's steady pace faltered by an extremely subtle pause.

The heavy hood did not turn, but an invisible and intangible spiritual force, as profound as the ocean, spread silently from him like ripples from a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly sweeping across the sand sea within a radius of hundreds of meters.

Sita sensed this subtle change almost simultaneously, her fingers lightly resting on an inconspicuous hidden pocket at her waist, her gaze beneath the hood instantly becoming sharp as needles.

Aita was struggling against the stinging pain from the blue burn marks on her ribs under the high temperature, as well as the scorching sand beneath her feet. Her orange-gold vertical pupils narrowed slightly to resist the intense light.

But the fluctuations in Gray's mental energy sounded like an invisible alarm bell deep within her soul.

Her fluffy orange tail instantly bristled and stood erect, and a low, wary hiss escaped her throat: "Meow—!"

Just as Aita's shriek faded away—

"Shh... Cha-cha-cha..."

A chilling, dense sound, like millions of tiny carapaces rubbing against scorching sand, erupted without warning from beneath the dunes surrounding them.

The sounds converged into a deathly wave, instantly shattering the illusion of the desert's deathly silence.

boom! boom! boom!

Countless light yellowish-brown and grayish-white carapaces erupted from beneath the scorching sand like fountains.

It was a massive swarm of Soul-Burning Scorpions, densely packed, like a swarm of insects bursting its banks.

They were mostly no bigger than a palm, but their numbers were countless, instantly forming a terrifying carpet covering hundreds of square meters, writhing and shimmering with dark red lava patterns.

Its sharp tail barb was raised high, gleaming with a dark red light, like countless poisonous spears aimed at its prey.

Among these small scorpion swarms, several sand dunes suddenly burst open, creating even larger waves of sand.

Several gigantic Soul-Scorching Scorpions, far exceeding the size of their kind, emerged. They were nearly as long as an adult orc, their carapaces a dark metallic black, with even more rugged and glaring lava patterns along the edges.

The enormous pincers were like heavy hammers, and the tail stinger was like a poisoned knight's lance, exuding a terrifying aura and an even more concentrated burning will.

They are the lords of the scorpion swarm, high-ranking Soul-Burning Scorpions.

Faced with the wave of death gushing from the ground, Gray's figure did not waver in the slightest, and he did not even stop moving forward.

The heavy hood was raised slightly at an almost imperceptible angle, as if it were merely casting a glance at the insignificant commotion in this sea of ​​sand.

His mental power had already revealed the size and distribution of the scorpion swarm, and even the location of the few large scorpion lords.

To him, this overwhelming offensive was perhaps no different from a disturbing sandstorm.

This level of attack didn't require Gray to intervene at all. It was just a slightly larger number of low-level Soul Scorpions and a few larger high-level Soul Scorpions; his subordinates and servants could handle it on their own.