GTS Syndrome Vol 2 Ch 7: Bones and Blisters

The sun was relentless. Even with Penelope's towering frame casting a generous shadow over me, the heat seeped into everything. My skin felt

The sun was relentless. Even with Penelope's towering frame casting a generous shadow over me, the heat seeped into everything. My skin felt like it was being slow-roasted, and every gust of wind was like a blast from a furnace.

"Hey," I called out, wiping sweat from my brow. "Think we could take a quick break?"

Penelope didn't even glance at me. "We're almost to the desert. Once we get there, we'll rest."

I frowned. Technically, we were already in the desert, but I knew better than to argue semantics with a giantess on a mission. Still, something was off. She was moving faster than usual, her strides longer, more purposeful. It wasn't just the heat making her tense.

As we continued, the landscape became more desolate. Rocks gave way to sand, and the occasional cactus stood as a lonely sentinel. That's when I saw it—a skeleton, bleached by the sun, lying amidst the stones.

"Penelope, look." I pointed. "That's... that's a person."

She paused, her eyes scanning the remains.

"It's sad," I murmured. "Maybe if someone had been here, they could've helped."

Penelope was silent for a moment before resuming her march.

"Wait," I called out. "Can we at least bury the bones?"

She stopped and looked over her shoulder at me. "What would be the point? Who would come to mourn?"

I felt a pang in my chest. "That's a little cold, don't you think?"

She turned back to the skeleton, her jaw tightening. Without warning, she raised her foot and brought it down with a thunderous stomp. The ground shook, and a gust of wind blasted outward, forcing me to cling to her hair to avoid being swept away.

When the dust settled, the skeleton was gone, replaced by a deep crater.

"There," she said with a smirk. "A grand burial for the little man, more than it deserves."

My blood boiled. Without thinking, I balled my fist and punched her cheek. It was like hitting a stone wall. Pain shot up my arm, and I cradled my hand, wincing.

Penelope turned her head slowly, her eyes narrowing as she saw me clutching my hand. "Did you just...?"

"You bet I did!" I snapped. "I don't like how you treat men, especially those who've died. I'm a man too, remember? These are my people."

She looked taken aback. "I... I do respect that. Or at least I'm trying. But in this world, the strong survive, and the weak..."

"Then what about me?" I interrupted. "I'm weaker than you. Am I supposed to die?"

She shook her head. "I won't let you die. I'll protect you. I promise."

I looked at her, unsure of what to say. My hand throbbed, and I knew I needed to bandage it. "Alright, alright. Let's just go."

As we resumed our journey, the silence between us was heavy, but I felt a shift. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to see things differently, or at least I could only hope.

Penelope finally placed me down on the rocky ground, and I practically melted into the stone. It had been hours since we last took a real break, and I could see it—clear as the sweat on her brow—she was reaching her limit. That was rare. Giantesses didn't exactly tire out easily. But her posture had shifted, her breathing was just a bit deeper, and even her usual firm steps were a little heavier.

She sat down with a soft groan—well, soft for her. To me it sounded like a boulder being dragged across granite. Her giant legs crossed lazily, and she tilted her head back toward the unforgiving sky.

"We'll be reaching the Land of Golden Sand by the end of the day," she said, wiping a bit of sweat from her temple.

I blinked. "The Land of Golden Sand? That's what it's called?"

She nodded. "Zeratal. That's its true name. But the locals call it that because, well... it glows at sunset. Whole dunes light up like fire. It's not just desert—it's heat, mirages, no shade, and monsters that thrive under the dunes." Her tone was dry but edged with something else—concern, maybe. "It should've taken us two more days to make it there, but we've been moving fast. I wanted to make up time."

I squinted at her. "Why the rush?"

She didn't answer that, just stood and stretched. Her shadow loomed over me like a whole mountain range.

"Once we get into the sand, things are going to be harder. Even for me," she said. "So while we've still got stone and shade, I'm going to make sure we're stuffed with food and water. Rest now. Eat. And... take care of your, you know. Business."

My face scrunched. "Business?"

"You know." She waved vaguely in the direction of some nearby rocks. "Empty your bowels, relieve yourself, scream into the void, whatever you need to do to mentally prepare."

"Well, that's a mood," I muttered.

She chuckled softly and leaned down until her face was just above mine. Her breath smelled like dried fruit and something herbal—like sweet tea and crushed leaves.

"Be careful, Braden," she said quietly, her eyes soft. "I'd take you with me, but... I need to go too, and... we're not that close yet."

I blinked. "Wait, so you're saying—"

She was already standing. "Don't make it weird."

"No promises."

She gave me a look that was half playful, half warning before walking eastward, each step sending a tremor through the ground. The rhythmic boom of her footsteps echoed for a minute, then faded into the distance.

I let out a long sigh and turned toward a cluster of rocks. "Alright. Business."

It was quick. The heat wasn't exactly helping with comfort or privacy. After that, I just sat down behind a larger rock, the cool shadow a relief on my sunburned arms. My body screamed for a nap, just a quick one—five minutes, tops. But then I heard it.

A scream.

I shot upright, heart thudding. That wasn't Penelope.

I crept forward, careful not to make a sound, and peeked out from behind the rock. My stomach twisted.

Down below, in a sun-bleached dip between the jagged stones, I saw them—bandits. Five of them, all armed. One had a hooked blade, another a spear that looked like it was stolen from a temple, and the rest had crude axes and rusty armor.

In the middle of their circle was a family—a man, a woman, and a girl, no older than six. The man stood in front of them, shielding them with his body, even as one of the bandits jabbed him in the ribs with the blunt end of a weapon.

"Oh no," I whispered.