Chapter 4: The Siege

Day 41.

The super sandstorm came without warning.

It wasn't the kind of "gradually approaching" disaster you see on TV, but rather the sun being swallowed up in seconds—one second it was sunny, the next the whole world was dark. Not the darkness of night, but a thick, airtight darkness that made you feel like you were being buried alive.

The wind wasn't coming from any one direction, but rather crashing down from all directions simultaneously. The sand grains struck the outer walls of the fortress at bullet speed, making a dense, impenetrable "pattering" sound, like a giant frantically pounding a drum.

I was inspecting equipment in the ore sorting workshop. The moment the lights went out, I yelled, "Everyone! Follow the drill route! Go down three floors!"

The miners didn't panic. We practiced for forty days, so much so that we dreamed about running that route. More than two thousand people surged into the underground tunnel like a tide, the sounds of footsteps, breathing, and occasional curses mingling together, but no one pushed or shoved.

Vera stood at the entrance to the underpass, her flashlight beam sweeping across everyone's faces. She was counting heads, making sure no one had fallen behind.

"Boss!" she shouted at me, "You go down too!"

"I'm the last one."

She didn't waste time saying "no" to me. She turned and rushed into the passageway to continue maintaining order.

Three underground bunkers housed 5,300 people crammed together. The air reeked of sweat, rust, and fear. The water circulation system was activated, and emergency lights illuminated the bunkers in a stark white light. The drilling platform was set to low speed to ensure sufficient ore production to sustain the economy.

I stood in the center, holding a glass of water, looking at the cross-sectional diagram of the fortress on the wall.

My gaze fell on the location marked "ventilation shaft".

That was the fortress's weakest point—an abandoned ventilation shaft running directly from the surface to the underground, two meters in diameter and forty meters deep. If sandworms crawled in through there, the underground bunker would be a coffin.

I've already had it sealed off with reinforced concrete and buried three layers of explosives around it. But I know how sensitive sandworms' sense of smell is; they can find any crevice.

"What are you thinking about?"

Vera came over, her face covered in dust, and the bandage on her left arm had somehow come off. She handed me a glass of water; the glass was metal, and the warmth of her fingers still lingered on the inside.

“I’m thinking about ventilation shafts,” I said.

"It's sealed off."

"Not enough."

She paused for a second, then shoved the water glass into my hand: "Drink some water first."

I took the water glass, and our fingers touched each other; neither of us pulled away. Her hands were rough, with mineral dust that couldn't be washed off under her fingernails, and large knuckles—unlike a woman's hands. But these were the hands that had saved dozens of people, driven away hundreds of thugs, and transformed a rotten fortress into an impregnable fortress in the past forty days.

“Once the sandstorm passes,” I said, “I’ll treat you to dinner.”

She glanced at me, her scar flashing like lightning under the harsh white light: "You owe me more than just a meal."

Then she withdrew her hand and turned to patrol.

I stood beneath the "undying sun"—that mine lamp, which the miners said was hope, direction, and the only light that would never go out in the darkness.

As I looked at it, I suddenly remembered my previous life.

In my past life, I lived in a forest where there wasn't even a single lamp like this. I struggled in the dark, chased by sandworms, pelted by hail, and stabbed in the back by my dearest loved ones.

But things are different now.

I have a fortress, five thousand three hundred men who believe in me, and Vera.

In the distance, from the deepest part of the underground bunker, came the cry of a baby. A woman had given birth at the very moment the sandstorm hit. I heard someone shout, "It's a boy! What a loud voice!"

I laughed.

Then I stopped smiling and looked in the direction of the ventilation shaft.

The sandstorm has only just begun.

The real trouble is yet to come.