I Die to Rise: Resurrection System-Chapter 96: The Untouched?

Kurt couldn’t decide what was more depressing. The fact that he’d spent three straight days with no food, slow-cooking inside a rattling prison blimp that smelled like cheap engine oil, or the fact that the view when they finally arrived was actually impressive.

From up above, it looked like a massive country carved out of the desert itself. The buildings weren’t the standard concrete boxes Kurt was used to.

Instead, they were dome-shaped structures made from pale sandstone baked golden from centuries exposed to the desert sun, and had rounded roofs designed to deflect the relentless heat and sandstorms.

He also spotted wind towers that rose from the rooftops, tall cylindrical structures with vents that caught the breeze and funneled cool air down into the buildings below.

When the blimp landed, Kurt got a better look at the population.

The men wore loose, flowing robes in earth tones, secured with wide leather belts. Most had their heads wrapped in cloth, shielding their faces from the sun and sand, leaving only their eyes visible. Their clothing billowed as they moved, designed for airflow, and many carried curved blades strapped to their hips.

The women dressed similarly, though their robes were often layered with brightly colored sashes and embroidered patterns along the hems. Some wore veils that covered the lower half of their faces, eyes lined with dark kohl that made their gazes sharp and striking. Others had their hair braided intricately, woven with beads and metal charms that clinked softly when they moved.

"Move it, convicts!" one of the guards barked, shoving Kurt forward.

"We’re not here to sightsee," another guard added, rifle slung over his shoulder.

They marched through the sand, and Kurt was not used to it.

Every step sank slightly, the ground shifting beneath his boots, making his calves burn with the effort of pushing forward. The wind picked up, whipping sand into his face, and he had to squint just to see where he was going.

Ahead of him, someone stumbled.

"Help! Hel—"

The prisoner’s voice cut off abruptly as the sand beneath him gave way. He sank fast, arms flailing, eyes wide with terror, and then he was gone. Swallowed whole by the desert.

"Hm?" One of the guards glanced over casually. "Oh, right. Be careful of sand pits here."

Kurt stared at the spot where the man had been standing two seconds ago. Just... gone.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

It was clear now. The lives of the prisoners were meaningless. They hadn’t even reached the dungeon yet, and someone was already dead.

Kurt let out a dark chuckle. Their lives were essentially cheaper than the sand they were walking on. If this batch died, the Circle would just find more criminals to fill the gaps. Endless supply. Endless expendability.

More prisoners fell as they kept walking. One more to a sand pit. Another to heatstroke, collapsing face-first into the sand and not getting back up. The guards didn’t stop. Didn’t check. Just kept marching forward.

Finally, they arrived at a large building that stood out from the rest. It was taller, more fortified, with thick stone walls and reinforced gates. The Dungeon Authority emblem was carved above the entrance.

From inside, three people stepped out wearing official D.A. uniforms. Two women and a man, all of them looking like they’d rather be literally anywhere else.

The man consulted a tablet. "How many do you have this time?"

One of the Circle guards checked his own device. "Subtracting the ones stuck in the Hole and the ones who died along the way, we’ve got two hundred forty-three."

The D.A. man nodded. "I see. Let’s go."

They were led to the entrance of the dungeon, a swirling mass of unstable brown energy crackling in the air like a vertical whirlpool.

"This is the Bast Dungeon," the D.A. man said, gesturing at the entrance. "D-rank. Even with those collars on, it shouldn’t be too difficult." He pointed to the right corner where a pile of weapons and artifacts sat haphazardly. "D-tier artifacts. Help yourselves. And Godspeed."

Immediately, every prisoner scrambled for the weapons like starving dogs fighting over scraps.

Razor rushed in fast, elbowing someone out of the way, and grabbed a chain that hummed with electric energy. He swung it experimentally, grinning. "Yeah... this’ll do nicely."

Kurt walked over more slowly, stomach growling as he scanned the pile. Swords. Spears. Shields. Clubs. He grabbed a pickaxe, tested the weight, and twirled it in his hands. "Good enough."

His eyes scanned through faces again. Two hundred forty-three prisoners, and no Riley. Not in the blimp, not in the march, not in the scramble for weapons.

One of the guards stepped forward, voice muffled behind his helmet. "Remember. Every convict for themselves in there. It’s not the quantity that matters to some of you. It’s the quality."

With that, prisoners started stepping through the gate one by one. The swirling brown energy changed color as they passed through, flashing blue.

Kurt followed, stepping into the portal, and reality twisted.

He expected to arrive in a completely different place, an underground caverns, maybe, or some hellish volcanic landscape. Instead, the dungeon looked exactly like the world they’d just left behind.

It was a vast desert, the dunes rolling endlessly like a frozen ocean of sand. The sun burned hotter here, though, scorching the air until it shimmered with heat distortion.

Then a notification popped up in Kurt’s vision.

[SUB SYSTEM QUEST 1]

[- Survive Bast Dungeon]

[- Reward: +10 Points]

[SUB SYSTEM QUEST 2]

[- Defeat 50 D-Rank Monsters]

[- Reward: +10 Points]

"Hmm." Kurt dismissed the screens and turned his attention to Razor, who was already complaining beside him.

"I’ve got thirty-five years on me," Razor muttered, testing the weight of his chain. "Each monster I take out is one month off my sentence. What a joke."

Kurt adjusted his grip on the pickaxe. "What did he mean by quantity and quality?"

Razor spat into the sand. "Not everyone’s interested in raising their market value and making it into the Prisoner Auction. Me?" He pointed at himself with his thumb. "One month per monster ain’t gonna cut it. And who knows when they’re gonna organize another raid."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "How many months does partaking in an auction shave off your sentence?"

"Months?" Razor scoffed. "Try ten bloody years, mate."

Around them, prisoners were already scattering, running off in different directions, desperate to rack up kills before anyone else could.

Kurt whistled low. "That’s something. But considering you get to become an elite’s bitch for one week..." He grinned. "I’d say ten years isn’t bloody well enough."

"And you’ve got the Minaris who already have a leg up," Razor said, cracking his knuckles. "Their very nature raises their market value." He started moving, boots kicking up sand. "Not my fault I don’t meet the weird fetishes of some rich and powerful elite."

"I’m sure you meet a lot of people’s fetishes," Kurt said.

Razor paused. "Thank you?"

"So—" Kurt started, but immediately, something began moving beneath the sand. A low rumble. A vibration that traveled up through his boots.

"Something’s coming," Kurt said.

"Yeah, no shit." Razor swung his chain in wide circles, stance low and ready. "That’s the Alabaster Sand Worm. Get ready!"

The sand exploded upward.

A massive creature burst out of the ground, towering over them at least twenty feet tall. Its body was segmented, pale white like bone, and its mouth was a circular nightmare of hundreds of razor-sharp teeth spinning like a blender.

It crashed back down, shaking the ground, and disappeared beneath the sand again.

Kurt’s eyes tracked the movement. "It’s circling."

The worm erupted beneath a prisoner thirty feet away, swallowing him whole before he could even scream.

Razor didn’t hesitate. He swung his chain, wrapping it around one of the worm’s small teeth as it dove back down. The chain electrified immediately, crackling with blue energy, and the worm shrieked, thrashing violently.

Razor yanked hard, ripping the tooth free, and leaped onto the worm’s back. Then he drove the electrified tooth straight through its outer shell, stabbing deep, and the worm convulsed once before collapsing in a massive cloud of dust.

The body began evaporating, leaving behind a glowing core the size of a fist which Razor grabbed it, pressing it against his collar, and it beeped.

"Hell yeah!" He celebrated, grinning. "Come on, Kurt! You’re gonna have to do better than tha—"

Two more sand worms erupted from the desert floor before he could finish.

These were massive. Five times bigger than the one Razor had just killed. Their mouths were wider, teeth spinning faster, and when they dove back into the sand, each impact generated a wave of sand that threatened to bury anyone not fast enough to get out of the way.

"I think they’re pissed because you killed their baby, mate," Kurt said.

Along with Razor and Kurt were four more convicts. Three guys who whispered amongst themselves and a stunning Minari woman with leopard-like spots across her body and a swishing tail.

There used to be ten of them.

"We’re all gonna fucking die here," the Minari lamented. Even without access to essence, she was quick and agile, dodging the sand waves with feline grace.

Razor tried his chain again, but the electricity did nothing this time. The worms kept coming, circling closer, preparing for a pincer attack from both sides.

"It’s been nice catching up, Kurt," Razor said grimly.

Kurt stepped forward. "Alright, everyone, huddle up! Get close!"

The four convicts were skeptical at first, but judging by the speed and relentlessness of the worms, they didn’t have a choice.

"What now?!" the Leopard Minari asked.

"We should’ve made a run for it," one of the three guys said. "It’s not too late! You guys can still come with me!"

Kurt ignored them, focusing on the sound of the worms moving beneath the sand. The vibrations. The rhythm.

He was more than strong enough to handle these worms. Didn’t need powers. Just timing.

He waited.

Both worms erupted from opposite sides simultaneously, mouths wide, teeth spinning.

And Kurt reacted. He stepped forward and threw the pickaxe like a spear.

With a quick swing of his pickaxe toward the left, the weapon moved through the air and drove straight through the worm’s head, punching clean out the other side. The worm collapsed mid-air, crashing into the sand.

Almost simultaneously with the throw, Kurt spun toward the second worm, and folded his fingers into a fist.

Wham!

He smashed his fist into the blender-like mouth, slamming it into the ground so hard the sand exploded outward like a mushroom cloud visible for miles.

And just like that, both worms were dead.

Their cores glowed much brighter than the first one, pulsing with energy.

There was a graveyard silence afterwards.

"What—how—how did you do that?!" Razor stammered.

"That shouldn’t be..." another convict whispered. "Not with a collar on."

"Untouched," one of the convicts whispered. "Has to be."

Kurt walked over calmly, grabbed both cores, and scanned them against his collar.

Beep! Beep!

The collar recorded them successfully.

The Leopard Minari stepped forward, eyes wide. "I’ve heard stories about rare anomalies. People born without essence who’ve pushed their physical bodies beyond normal limitations." She stared at Kurt like he was a mythical creature. "Didn’t think they existed. Even more marginalized than Minaris... an Untouched."

Everyone began staring at Kurt with awe, eyes wide, lips quivering as they whispered: "...an Untouched."

An Untouched? Kurt had no bloody clue what an Untouched was, but if it meant he could go through this raid without explaining himself, then fine. He’d go with it.

"Yeah, yeah. What she said." He shrugged and kept moving deeper into the desert.

The Leopard Minari quickly wrapped her arms around Kurt’s, walking beside him. "Yeah, I’m following this guy."

Immediately, the rest all followed behind him as well.