Roaring Heroes Battle the Overlord (Ainz)

Three adventurers, a cat, and a dragonborn rode four sturdy ponies, guided by a compass pointing due south.

The earth was parched, the heat brutal. Withered plants sprawled across the ground, trembling limply in the wind. Dry streambeds cracked open, barely holding a trace of moisture.

The nightmare-drawn carriage they'd used before couldn't handle this terrain, so EeDechi and her crew had switched to the villagers' ponies for mobility.

"Your chubby cat Cheeko is adorable," Draevor said, cradling the sky-blue feline with a look of pure adoration. Then her tone shifted. "But not as cute as my little brother was. If your fat kitty sprouted a pair of red wings, it might be half as cute as he was."

All along the trail, Draevor never shut up about her precious little brother. EeDechi had figured it out by now—this female dragonborn was a full-on brother-obsessed, brother-spoiling nutcase.

Through Draevor's endless chatter, the three adventurers pieced together the story. Her younger brother, Ezar Flame, was a young red dragon, nicknamed the Monarch of Flame.

Ezar's parents were both red dragons. His mother had first hooked up with a human adventurer, resulting in Draevor Flame, the dragonborn. Later, she mated with a bona fide adult red dragon, giving birth to Ezar Flame.

According to Draevor, she was already watching over Ezar when he was still a dragon egg. When their dragon mother finally hatched him, Ezar was scrawny and frail, his health piss-poor.

Their mother once considered killing Ezar to spare him a life of being shunned and bullied in the dog-eat-dog dragon territories, where only the strong survive. Hell, he might not even make it to adulthood before some other dragon gobbled him up.

Draevor begged their mother to spare her hard-won little brother and took on the responsibility of raising him herself. Day and night, she hunted beasts, brawled with savage monsters, and snatched food from the jaws of a Tarasque just to keep the hungry Ezar fed.

Every day, she prayed to the Dragon Progenitor, the divine lord of creation, begging for some cosmic protection for her weakling brother.

Maybe her prayers worked, because Ezar's body slowly toughened up. His dragon-born Wild Magic started to shine through.

He grew taller, stronger, his power building step by step. No longer did his sister have to bust her ass hunting or fighting beasts to keep him safe. Hell, he could even protect her now, shielding Draevor with his massive dragon wings in the treacherous lands where dragons prowled and eyed them hungrily.

Draevor's hard work paid off. Ezar transformed from a scrawny, pathetic red dragon hatchling into a mighty red dragon wielding Wild Magic. The adult dragons who once mocked him now flinched and scurried away from his searing dragon breath.

From then on, Draevor and her brother were free from the relentless bullying of dragonkind and dragonborn. They lived the high life—raiding human cities, robbing merchant caravans, and slaughtering dragon-slaying warriors.

Wait, something weird slipped in there.

But as Ezar's power swelled, so did his ambition. He grew restless, no longer content to stay in the dragon homeland nestled among the mountains. After gathering a crew of troglodytes and gnolls as his minions, he set off to conquer distant lands.

Draevor, though, wasn't a fan of her brother's new buddies or his lackeys. She chose to stick close to their dragon mother. Over time, news of Ezar trickled in less and less until it dried up completely. All Draevor caught were occasional whispers of his legendary title—the Monarch of Flame.

Now, with the dragon race under threat from the Sorcerer Kingdom, their dragon mother ordered Draevor to travel in the direction Ezar had gone, find him, and convince him to lead his army back to prepare for the fight against the Sorcerer Kingdom.

"When I find Ezar, I'm gonna rub his face like crazy and yank his tail to make up for all these years apart!" Draevor declared from atop her pony, brimming with excitement.

…

Through swirling dust and grit, they could just make out a murky yellow sandstorm brewing on the distant horizon. The sky had lost every trace of white, swallowed by dark yellow clouds spiraling into a massive vortex, like a storm of sand was about to pour down.

Barrett pulled out the map and hydrographic charts gifted by the Slane Theocracy, scanning them quickly before saying, "We're near Moonstone Spring, infamous for its magical sandstorms—the first barrier to the Eight Greed Kings' desert. The storms are packed with wild magical currents, screwing with magnetic fields. Compasses and navigation spells are useless here.

"Every month, at specific times, the storm calms for a bit. We'll have to hole up in Moonstone Hollow and wait for the storm to die down before moving on."

The group urged their ponies closer. In the distance, the massive sandstorm raged, flinging dust and gravel in their faces. But beneath the storm, a pristine little village nestled beside a crescent-shaped pond of crystal-clear water, surrounded by a lush poplar forest that formed a towering natural barrier.

"Impressive," EeDechi said, marveling. "A place like this, with a pond and poplar forest?"

"What a gorgeous pond," Draevor said, gazing at the village. "Even my brother wouldn't want to wreck a place like this."

She turned to the three adventurers with a grin. "My brother was such a cute little dumbass when he was young—always trying to torch forests with his fire breath. Took a few good smacks from me to set him straight."

"Let's head to Moonstone Hollow and check it out," Barrett said, nudging his pony forward. "In a hellhole like this, what's keeping a tiny village going?"

…

They followed a dusty yellow trail into the village, where the standout feature was a crystal-clear pond, shaped like a crescent moon with pointed ends and a wide middle. The pond fed the surrounding sand, nurtured the nearby poplar forest, and sustained the hardworking villagers of Moonstone Hollow.

A dusty villager approached, carrying a heavy load on a shoulder pole. He didn't bat an eye at the adventurers, as if strangers were no big deal around here.

He gave a quick nod and hurried off. EeDechi and the others noticed his wooden baskets were brimming with sand.

More villagers came, some with shoulder poles, others driving ox carts, all hauling heaps of sand. Fine grains spilled out, tracing winding lines on the ground.

By the crescent pond, two men rowed a small boat toward the center. Their boat was weighed down with heavy cargo, pressing the waterline low.

When they reached the middle of the crescent pond, they hefted a wooden crate and dumped a load of yellow, flowing sand into the water. EeDechi squinted and confirmed it—they were indeed pouring sand into the pond.

"Meow! Meow!" Cheeko yowled twice. Perched on Barrett's horse, the cat arched its back, its obsidian eyes wide and locked on the pond's center, as if trying to peer through the clear water to uncover some secret.

Suddenly, Cheeko leaped off the horse with agile grace, splashed into the pond, and started swimming, paws churning. It dove under, leaving only the tip of its tail poking above the surface. Moments later, even that vanished beneath the water.