Chapter 99 | Reincarnated as a Necromancer, I Turned a Death Desert Into Paradise

The wind swept through the sand dunes, kicking up a gust of dust that stung against Mira Sandflow's exposed scales.

She could no longer remember how many days had passed since they set out. Ever since the last well in their tribe completely dried up, she had led her remaining dozen or so clansmen on this journey to find a new home.

Mira was the leader of the Sandflow Tribe, a female sand scaler in her early thirties. She was half a head shorter than the average clansman, with a slender build and dark golden scales covering her body.

Walking at the very front of the group, she opened only the outermost of her three eyelids, squinting as she scanned the undulating sand dunes ahead.

Behind her were her remaining clansmen: a few hunters in their prime, three or four half-grown children, and two elderly members who were already staggering as they walked.

Everyone marched in silence. No one spoke, as their water supply was limited and had to be strictly rationed. No one wanted to waste unnecessary energy on talking.

“Chief...”

Someone at the back called out in a raspy voice. Mira looked back and saw the big fellow at the rear stumble once more.

He was a male sand scaler who stood a full head taller than Mira, with broad shoulders and a wide back. At this moment, however, his broad back was slightly bent as he carried a figure wrapped tightly in a sand-resistant robe.

The figure was hidden in the shadow of a hood, with only a few strands of light blue hair slipping out from under the brim, fluttering gently in the hot wind.

Mira slowed her pace and walked over to her clansman's side. “How much longer can you hold on?”

“I'm... I'm alright.”

The clansman panted heavily without stopping his feet. “She isn't heavy at all. Very light.”

Mira glanced at the figure on his back. She had found this person in the sand two days ago. At the time, the stranger was burning with fever, her lips were chapped, and a silver-white rapier hung at her waist.

Mira had checked her breathing, tentatively fed her a few sips of water, and decided to bring her along after seeing she could still draw breath.

Survival in the desert was difficult; those left alone rarely lasted more than three days. Since she had crossed paths with her, she couldn't just stand by and watch her die.

“I wonder where she came from.” Mira muttered to herself, withdrawing her gaze, before refocusing her attention on the path ahead.

But in the next second, her ears caught something—a sharp screech from the sky that echoed across the entire sea of sand.

“Griffins!”

Mira's heart tightened, and all three layers of her eyelids snapped open at once. She looked up at the sky and saw two massive dark shadows circling above them, their wingspans about four to five meters wide, their grayish-brown feathers gleaming oily in the sunlight.

“Run! Run!”

Mira shouted sharply. The group instantly fell into a panic. Children were scooped up by adults, the elderly were supported as they staggered forward, and everyone began sprinting toward the backside of the nearest sand dune.

But they were too slow. Days of continuous marching had drained most of their strength, making every step feel incredibly heavy.

The two dark shadows overhead circled unhurriedly. Their posture was leisurely, occasionally letting out a low cry.

Mira swept her gaze across the sky out of the corner of her eye as she ran, her heart filled with anxiety and resentment.

These two griffins had been following them for three days. During this time, they would swoop down every so often to test the group with probing attacks.

Whenever a dive failed, the griffins would ascend again and continue circling overhead, neither in a hurry to leave nor launching another immediate attack.

They were waiting. Waiting for them to exhaust their last ounce of strength, waiting for the moment they could no longer run, before claiming all their prey at once.

Mira knew exactly what the griffins were planning, but she was powerless to stop it.

She had already led her clansmen for dozens of miles. Along the way, she had tried to find two potential water sources, but one was occupied by a group of adventurers, and when they reached the other, they found the water polluted by some rotting animal carcass, making it completely undrinkable.

“Chief... I can't run anymore...”

A weak voice called out from behind. Mira looked back and saw the smallest child in the group staggering, his knees buckling as he was about to collapse onto the sand.

“Don't stop! Get up!”

Mira immediately rushed over, scooped the child up from the ground, tucked him under her arm, and continued running forward.

She felt her lungs burning, each breath bringing a searing pain, but she dared not stop—not even for a single step.

Because the two dark shadows overhead had already adjusted their posture.

The wings of the griffin on the left folded slightly, and its entire body began to tilt, diving toward the group like a grayish-brown arrow.

“Scatter!”

Mira barked upon seeing this. Her clansmen rolled to either side, but the griffin's target was not any of the adults. It swooped down with pinpoint accuracy toward the elderly man who had been left behind in the center of the group.

The old man's legs were already weak, and he had collapsed onto the sand. Watching the dark shadow draw closer, he didn't even have the strength to dodge, so he could only close his eyes.

And at the very instant the sharp talons were about to touch the old man's shoulders!

Whoosh!

A silver-white sword light sliced through the air, accurately striking the griffin's outstretched talons.

“Screeech!”

The griffin let out a painful screech. Its entire body tilted violently in midair, forcing it to abandon its dive. Flapping its wings frantically a few times, it ascended back into the sky.

Mira was stunned.

She turned to look in the direction the light had come from, and saw the outsider they had carried for two days standing on the sand at some point.

Her hood had been blown back by her sudden movement, revealing a cold and serene face.

Her light blue hair fluttered in the hot wind, reaching almost to her waist. Her skin was so fair that she didn't look like someone who belonged in the desert, with high brow bones, a straight nose, and a sharp jawline.

Most eye-catching of all were the pointed ears peeking through her hair, which were significantly longer than a human's, their tips curving slightly upward and gleaming with a faint golden luster under the sunlight.

An elf.

All the sand scalers present widened their eyes. They had never seen an elf in their lives, only hearing of them from merchants.

The elven woman stood there, her right hand gripping a silver-white rapier, with a lingering trace of faint blue light still shimmering on the blade.

Her pale gray eyes swept over the griffins circling overhead once more, then over the disheveled sand scalers before her. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something.