CALAMITY : Legends Of The Chosen

Location: Sahara Desert – Midday

The sun over the Sahara was merciless.

Heat rippled off every dune. The skies shimmered like mirages. And beneath it all, Karl's Chariot Mode tore across the landscape — steel wheels blazing with nanite propulsion, kicking up trails of molten sand as seven warriors rode toward nowhere.

They hadn't spoken in hours. The air was too hot. Too heavy.

Shojiro sat upright, his breathing calm, but his body constantly adjusting — his muscle fibers reconfiguring subtly every few minutes using his technique, Ligament Drift, ready for sudden impact.

Max leaned on the edge of the frame, arcs of black lightning crackling from his fingertips like impatient sparks. He hadn't used his new power since returning… and it showed in his grin.

Enme traced imaginary glyphs on the air.

Leone sat beside her, eyes distant, her inner phantom energy dormant but twitching beneath the skin.

Zans stood with arms crossed, his shadow slithering quietly under his boots.

Morgz was — calm, a tight ring of floating water droplets orbiting his back like a halo of death. Each drop shimmered under desert heat, charged and ready.

Karl drove, mechanical visor scanning the dunes ahead for heat signatures, wind shifts, and—

WARNING: SUBTERRANEAN DISTURBANCE DETECTED.

"Everyone hold—"

Too late.

The sand exploded.

Abyssal Maw – Inside the Death Worm

A shriek — like metal ripping underwater.

The death worm was colossal. A spiral of obsidian-scaled muscle and rows of shifting fangs. It swallowed the chariot whole, dragging all seven Chosen into the depths of its stomach in one violent gulp.

Darkness. Acidic steam. Pulsing flesh.

"…Is everyone alive?" Karl's voice cut through static.

Max coughed. "Yep. Just getting real tired of being eaten by things."

Shojiro was already moving — the muscles on his back and arms twisting into an optimized striking structure via Ligament Drift.

CRACK.

He slammed a raw, bare fist into the fleshy wall — the sheer impact tearing the muscle membrane and sending the beast into a violent internal spasm.

"It's got a soft stomach," he grunted. "Let's rupture it."

The Internal Battle – Chosen Strike from Within

Shojiro led the charge, relying purely on raw strength and technique, each punch shaking the beast's digestive tract like thunder. He wasn't flashy — he was brutal. Every strike was like a cannonball.

Zans followed beside him, his eyes narrowed. From his shadow, blade-like tendrils extended and sliced through veins and nerves, sending more spasms through the worm's core.

Morgz said nothing.

But around him, the droplets of water floated with perfect calm.

Then— CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Each droplet fired a jet of hyper-pressurized water, sniper shots strong enough to pierce steel. They fired automatically, surgically targeting organs and weak points, carving precise tunnels through the beast's interior.

Leone shifted, her veins darkening, her form turning bestial and monstrous in a flash of ghoul mutation. She ripped into the stomach lining with claws formed from hardened muscle and spirit-infused bone.

Enme crouched, etching a glyph in midair. The symbol burst into refracted light and created a repelling field, blocking acid that sprayed from burst glands.

"Gross," she muttered, flinging another glyph forward — a shard of sharpened kinetic force that detonated on contact with inner muscle walls.

Karl stayed back, his nanite blasters shifting from his palms, releasing precision bursts of plasma to burn clear escape routes.

Then —

Max stepped forward.

Arcs of black lightning surged from his arms — and two crossbows of pure energy formed around his forearms with a snap-hiss.

Indra's Arrow: Deployed.

"Let's end this."

He raised both arms. The crossbows rotated slightly — then—

THTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTH!!

A barrage of black lightning bolts erupted in rapid succession, each one slamming into the walls and nerves of the beast like miniaturized storms. Every shot — 0.01% VYTHRA cost — struck with the force of a divine railgun.

Max strafed while firing, his arms a blur of electrical recoil. "This is why you don't skip thunder day!"

Death of the Worm

The creature roared.

It twisted, coiled, spasmed — its insides cooked and torn apart from within.

Shojiro punched straight through one final stomach wall. Morgz's water sniper rounds tore through the last protective layer. Max's bolts shredded what remained of the spine.

And then — they burst out of its back, blasting into open sunlight, blood and smoke trailing behind.

The death worm collapsed behind them with one final, earth-shaking BOOM.

The Aftermath – On the Dunes

The seven landed hard in the sand, catching their breath.

Shojiro cracked his neck.

Max powered down his crossbows, sparks fading. "That was... satisfying."

Then—

A voice.

Soft. Distant. Female.

"...That was insane."

They turned.

A girl stood on the nearest dune — cloaked in desert rags, goggles cracked, skin bruised and sunburned from weeks of exposure.

She looked at them like they were myths.

"You're the Chosen… right?"

Max stepped forward slowly. "And you are?"

She pulled down her scarf.

"I'm one too."

Ohhh that's even better. Now it's not just loss — it's a mystery. A trail. Like fate left a breadcrumb wrapped in tragedy.

Let's rewrite that moment with that key twist:

The girl doesn't just vanish — she leads them somewhere.

Scene: Sahara Dunes – After the Worm

The Chosen stood among the wreckage of the colossal death worm, panting, cut, steaming in the ruthless heat.

Above them, a girl stood on the dune — sand-caked, ragged, skin burned and cracked by the sun.

"You're the Chosen… right?"

Max stepped forward slowly. "Yeah. We are."

She nodded. "Then… I was right. I've been waiting for you."

Her voice cracked as if she hadn't spoken in years.

Something about her was off — not in her tone, not in her eyes — but her presence.

Max was about to ask her name when—

Her foot crumbled.

A small stream of golden sand tumbled from her ankle.

Max froze. "…No…"

Her fingertips broke apart next. Her hand dissolved into a cascade of fine grains drifting on the wind.

Shojiro shouted, "She's—!"

Max lunged forward. "WAIT!"

Too late.

Her entire form was turning to dust — carried on a wind that hadn't existed a second ago. But it wasn't just blowing randomly—

It moved with direction. Purpose. Intent.

A long stream of golden sand twisted through the dunes, drifting in a spiral path toward the southern horizon.

And there, barely visible through the shimmering heat haze—

A pyramid.

Ancient. Massive. Cracked by time.

Veins of violet light pulsed faintly from beneath its surface.

Karl's visor zoomed in. "Confirmed. Structure ahead. Not natural."

Enme whispered, "Did… she lead us there?"

Max stared at the direction her sand trail blew.

He didn't answer.

His hand slowly closed into a fist.

Morgz (quiet): "She wanted us to follow…"

Zans: "Or something inside does."

Leone: "Either way, I don't think this is over."

Shojiro: "Let's find out who she was. And why she knew us."

Max, voice low:

"…This time, I'm not letting anyone fade before I get their name."

"The girl of sand is gone.

But her trail leads to the forgotten tomb of something older than Yggdrasil…"