From the moment I was chosen by the holy relic

Eric followed behind the group, his steps growing heavier.

He had lost track of how long he had walked, only feeling as if the scorching sun was sprouting tendrils from the sky, scorching his skin and burning his throat inch by inch.

His cloak was already soaked with sweat, then dried by the wind, leaving a layer of white, salt-like stains.

My lips were so dry and cracked they hurt, and my tongue felt like a razor blade rolling around in my mouth.

He tried to swallow, but found his throat as dry as a weathered rock, without a trace of moisture.

Looking back, all that could be seen was endless yellow sand, and the exposed stone ridge looked like a skeleton in the wind, pale and isolated.

Looking down at their feet, the deep footprints, just blown away by the wind, quickly disappeared, as if they had never set foot there.

He finally couldn't hold back any longer and spoke, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible: "Are we just going to keep going like this? Without a destination, without direction?"

At the front of the group, Abu Nach, sitting on a sand beast, slowly turned his head. He was not angry, but just glanced at Eric, his eyes showing a hint of weariness and tolerance that he had seen before.

Do you think we're just wandering around aimlessly?

Eric nodded, sweat trickling down his brow bone and leaving a salt stain on his dry cheek.

"Yes, we're exhausting ourselves. If this were an illusion, the enemy would have appeared long ago."

Abu Nach did not answer immediately.

He slowly turned around, patted the neck of the sand beast beneath him, and the creature let out a low snort, its hooves sinking into the soft sand, and stopped.

The other members of the caravan also stopped. Some wiped the sweat from their foreheads, some looked through their water bags, but no one dared to make a sound.

This brief pause, like a nail, pinned Eric's question to silence.

Abu Nach then spoke slowly, his tone low but carrying an undeniable authority: "Young man, do you know why the Thousand Faces Illusion was originally built?"

Eric nodded: "To hone the army and improve the soldiers' combat effectiveness."

"That's right." Abu Nach's voice echoed in the sandstorm, "The City of Illusions, the Land of a Thousand Faces."

Each layer of illusion is constructed from will and memory, and the enemies are both real and illusory, ever-changing.

Only by defeating the enemy and breaking through the illusion can you proceed to the next level.

"So," Eric asked, his throat dry and sore, but he forced himself to, "we're waiting for the enemy now?"

Abu Nach nodded, his tone flat: "You're not stupid."

He took a small sip of water from the water pouch, immediately tightened the lid, and cherished it as if it were a precious elixir.

"The enemies are different on each floor."

Some hide in villages, some disguise themselves as travelers, and some hide in the wind, the sand, or even in our own shadows.

"And this illusion," he pointed to the ever-burning sun overhead, "is too hot, too dry, too quiet."

This shows that the enemy is not in a hurry to make a move; they are waiting for us to become exhausted, agitated, and thirsty, waiting for our will to collapse.

"So we're just going to drag this out like this?" Eric looked at him incredulously, his voice filled with anxiety. "Until we're both dried-up corpses?"

Abu Nach shook his head with a wry smile; his deeply wrinkled face bore a smile like a crack in the desert.

"Patience, Eric. Sometimes war doesn't begin on the battlefield, but in the waiting."

Knowing how to wait is a soldier's first lesson.

The enemies in the illusion are cunning hunters; the more agitated you are, the more secure they become; the more composed you are, the more unbearable they become.

He squinted and looked into the distance: "I'm not sure where it's hiding, maybe underground, maybe in the sky, but it's definitely watching us."

The closer we get to the limit, the more urgent it becomes.

The enemy's greatest weakness is that they too cannot endure prolonged silence and anticipation.

Eric fell silent. He recalled every battle on the training field, all of which were simply to hone his skills and reflexes.

Only now did he understand that true battles are sometimes not about sword fights and bloodshed, but about enduring and persevering.

This is the ability to wait without letting illusions erode one's soul and will.

He lowered his head, carefully poured a drop of water from the water pouch, moistened his chapped lips, and immediately tightened the stopper.

"I'm sorry, I was too hasty," he said softly. "I'll try to control myself."

Abu Nach looked at him and smiled faintly: "No need to apologize."

This heat, this thirst, this boundless silence—even the most composed warrior would lose his way.

You're not crazy; that already puts you ahead of half the population.

"However," he patted the leather bag at his waist, his tone becoming more serious, "next time when you ask a question, talk less and think more."

Sometimes, you can clear a dream world without relying on power, but by seeing things that others haven't.

Eric nodded, rallied his spirits, and caught up with the group.

This time, he was no longer in a hurry to achieve results. Instead, he broadened his horizons and paid attention to every terrain feature, every gust of wind, and every subtle movement of the sand.

Despite his parched mouth and dry skin, he forced himself to calm down.

They walked for a while longer, perhaps an hour, perhaps just a few quarters of an hour.

Time had long since blurred within the illusion, and Eric almost thought that this trial would continue indefinitely.

Just then, the earth began to tremble quietly.

At first, it was just a slight tremor, like an illusion, as if the sand beneath my feet trembled gently for a moment.

But the tremors came wave after wave, like the breathing of a slumbering beast, emanating from the depths of the earth.

An indescribable sense of oppression and chill seeped into my bones from the soles of my feet.

Abu Nah jerked the reins of the sand beast and hissed, "Everyone, prepare for battle!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a steady strength that instantly jolted everyone awake from their weariness and thirst.

Several veterans jumped off the sand beast, drew their weapons, and their faces were tense.

One person bit their fingertip and squatted on the sand, quickly sketching incantations to form an array; the other looked around and chanted a protective spell in a low voice.

Eric stopped, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his left hand gripping the pendant amulet tightly.

His palms were soaked with nervous sweat; he knew the enemy was about to reveal themselves.

The tremors beneath my feet grew stronger and stronger, and the sand bulged up in patches, like rolling waves of sand.

The ground seemed to be overturned by some giant object, and the next second, a huge crack exploded right in front of them.

A hot and foul-smelling stream of air gushed out from the crack.

Immediately afterwards, a giant shadow burst forth from the sand, soaring straight into the sky, as tall as a two-story building!

That was a monster.

Eric jerked his head back and saw that the monster had a streamlined body like a shark, and its gray-blue scales gleamed with a metallic sheen in the sunlight.

But it has huge claws on both sides, each as thick as an adult man, with barbs covering the mouth.

Its tail is long and flexible, spiraling in the air like a giant whip, making a whistling sound as it cuts through the air.

"The Sand Shark!" an older warrior in the team exclaimed in surprise. "Last time in the illusion, it only appeared on the fifth floor. How could it be here?"

"This illusion has changed compared to before," Abu Nach said calmly, but spoke very quickly.

He drew his long sword from his waist and pointed it at the monster: "Scatter! Distract it! Don't let it take too many people at once!"

Before he could finish speaking, the monster crashed to the ground like a mountain collapsing, its tail sweeping out sharply.

The sandstorm exploded instantly, sending debris flying everywhere!

"Don't come any closer!" someone shouted.

But it was too late.

The tail struck a young team member who was standing nearby, and the man didn't even have time to scream.

He was sent flying several feet away, crashing heavily into the sand, followed by a flash of silver light.

He was thrown away as if by the power of the illusion, leaving only a charred crater on the ground.

"He's out," Abu Nach said in a low voice, his tone devoid of emotion, only the helplessness he was accustomed to on the battlefield.

Eric watched helplessly as his companion was swept out of the illusion, his heart jolting.

He had never seen such an enemy before, a monster that blended ocean and desert, a bizarre and oppressive illusionary opponent, completely beyond his imagination.

But he did not back down.

He steadied himself, his mind racing with his instructor's teachings from training: assess the enemy's structure, observe their attack rhythm, and identify their weaknesses.

My gaze swept back and forth over the monster, and I soon noticed that although its claws were large, they moved rather slowly.

The real threat is its agile and swift tail.

Eric gripped the hilt of his sword, his gaze fixed on the point where the monster crab's claws connected to its body.

The scales there are thinner, and the slightly bulging tendons are briefly exposed each time the monster swings its claws.

He knew that if he cut it off here, one of the giant pincers would be useless.

"Joints," he murmured to himself, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the sandstorm, "nothing is invincible."

Even stones have cracks; even water has weaknesses.

He inhaled the scorching air, his throat feeling like it was burning on fire, each breath feeling like it was tearing his chest apart.

Forcibly suppressing his dizziness and thirst, he suddenly exerted his strength and charged towards the monster.

The sword flashed through the heatwave, aiming straight for that vulnerable joint!

But he still underestimated the cruelty of the illusion.