The descent from the obsidian ridge into the suffocating ocean of crimson fog was short-lived.
Before the four of them could plunge deeper into the dark, rocky ravine on foot, a low, mechanical hum vibrated through the dense air, rattling the jagged volcanic glass beneath their boots. It wasn't the sound of blood magic or the screeches of subterranean chimeras. It was the smooth, refined purr of high-grade spatial machinery—an engine running on raw, pressurized crystal mana.
Out from a hidden spatial rift torn through the edge of the cliff side glided a sleek, low-slung, high-tech convertible. Its body was forged from seamless, polished matte-black alloy that absorbed the ambient red light of the toxic fog, giving it the appearance of a dark phantom floating over the rough terrain. Sharp crimson LED accents ran down its aggressive front grill and side skirts, while four heavy-duty, magnetic-levitation wheels hovered inches off the jagged stone, humming with blue energy.
