Despite their efforts, Ghidorah was still just a juvenile dragon. Although powerful, his gravitational rays—a unique ability—weren't yet at full strength. Breaking apart solidified lava often required him to charge up and release multiple blasts just to chip through the rock. It was a slow and exhausting process.
And so, Red and Ghidorah settled into a rhythm. Man and dragon working side by side, forging a unique partnership amid fire and stone. Red took charge of digging, hauling away debris, and navigating the path forward, while Kevin, Ghidorah's most cooperative head, handled the blasting work. The pair developed an impressive synergy. Kevin was precise with his blasts and efficient in his movements—unlike the other two heads, Dalang and Erlang, who often lost focus or slacked off when Red wasn't watching.
They worked this way for over a month, tirelessly excavating day by day. How many meters they had dug, Red couldn't say. But the signs were clear—the deeper they went, the hotter the rock became. The air thickened with heat and sulfur, and every breath grew more difficult.
One particularly exhausting day, as Red paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, something strange caught his eye. Half-buried ahead of them in the narrow tunnel was an iron pillar, far larger than any they'd encountered before. It lay embedded in the rock at an angle, almost as if placed there intentionally.
Unlike the previous rusted and decaying supports, this one gleamed with a deep black luster. The metal looked newly forged, with a smooth, almost mirror-like finish. There was no rust, no wear. It was as though it had defied the passage of time.
Red leaned in closer, his heart pounding. That's when he saw it—runes.
Faint, worn, and difficult to see with the naked eye, the marks shimmered softly with a residual magical glow. Red's breath caught in his throat.
A magical rune!
Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and began to clear the surrounding rubble, tracing the markings with his fingers. The lines curved and intersected with clear intention—this was not just decoration. It was spellwork etched into the very metal.
As he cleared away more debris, it became evident that this wasn't just a pillar—it was a gigantic steel nail, hammered deep into the volcanic rock, seemingly used to reinforce the structural integrity of the volcano's inner layers. Red ran his hand along the shaft, feeling the cold yet strangely resonant metal beneath his palm.
He paused, thinking. The composition… the feel… the unmistakable magical aura—
Valyrian steel.
There was no doubt in Red's mind. He'd only read about it in books and ancient scrolls, but the moment he touched this alloy, he knew: this was the real thing. Valyrian steel, the pride of the lost empire—nearly indestructible, magically infused, and priceless beyond measure.
His eyes widened in awe. A single sword forged from this metal could change the fate of a kingdom. But here was an entire pillar made of it. Yet, despite its value, Red also realized the harsh truth—they couldn't remove it. Not now, and not with their current tools. It was embedded too deep and too solidly into the volcano's heart.
Reluctantly, he decided to leave it and continue downward, hoping to find more clues about the Valyrians' transformation process.
It didn't take long before the rocky tunnel opened into something unexpected—a labyrinth of interconnected passages, each carved with precision. Some were wide enough to march dragons through; others barely allowed a man to squeeze past. Their distribution was not random—this was a man-made structure, crafted with careful planning and magical reinforcement.
Red stood still for a moment, surveying the system. Then, memories stirred—the layout matched the fire peak he had once lived in.
It clicked.
The Valyrians must have begun their volcanic transformations by reinforcing the volcano's throat. Then, they redirected the natural flow of lava into these man-made passageways, carefully guiding it through a network that distributed the heat evenly.
These channels acted like a central heating system, carrying the intense thermal and magical energy throughout the volcano, especially to key areas like the dragon caverns. The temperature and fire magic sustained the dragons, aiding their growth and strength.
More importantly, the lava's flow seemed regulated. Instead of erupting violently, the volcano was kept in a state of controlled decompression. Through continuous adjustments, the pressure inside the fire peak was maintained just below the critical level.
Red's lips twitched at the realization. The mental image forming in his mind was almost ridiculous: "It's like… using volcanic lava to heat a kang," he muttered—referring to the traditional heated bed-stove used in northern homes.
He shook his head, trying to banish the absurd comparison. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
Was it absurd? Perhaps.
But it worked.
He couldn't help but admire the ingenuity. But as for how the lava was kept molten as it traveled through long, narrow tunnels without cooling—well, Red could only attribute that to one thing:
Magic.
Yes, only powerful fire magic could explain this. Valyria, after all, was a place where magic defied the laws of physics. Irrationality was the norm here. Red gave up trying to reason it out with logic. He wasn't interested in recreating the system anyway. If he ever needed to harness volcanoes in the future, he'd worry about it then.
Right now, he had other priorities—survival, growth, and strengthening his dragons.
The long hours of digging had worn him down. With no immediate breakthrough, Red decided to stop. He reached up and tugged on Ghidorah's central horn, signaling that it was time to retreat.
All three of Ghidorah's heads turned toward him simultaneously. Their eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and relief.
"Finally, no more digging!" their expressions seemed to say.
Clearly, Ghidorah—who had been involuntarily conscripted into a miner's life—was tired of the monotonous and dangerous work. Red gave a simple mental command, and the dragon obeyed immediately. Its massive body pulled back from the tunnel, and all three heads let out a soft, almost thankful whimper.
The climb back to the surface was slow and grueling. The tunnel was steep and narrow, not designed for such a large creature. Red clung tightly to Ghidorah's ridged scales, rising and falling with every step the dragon took.
At last, they emerged from the depths of the volcano, covered in soot, dust, and sweat. The heavy air hit them like a wave, thick with the scent of sulfur and ash.
Before Red could even catch his breath—
The ground trembled.
It happened without warning. A violent jolt surged upward, shaking the very foundations of the crater. Rocks tumbled from above, and the crater walls groaned and shifted. Red staggered, nearly falling as the tremors intensified, clutching onto Ghidorah's neck for balance.
It wasn't just a minor quake. It felt like a magnitude 5 earthquake, powerful enough to rattle the entire crater and dislodge loose stones that had clung precariously to the walls for decades. Debris fell like a stone rain, crashing and bouncing off the rocks with alarming force.
The volcano roared—not with fire, but with the sound of movement. The very earth was twisting, as if awakened from a long slumber.
Red's heart raced. He'd been living around the fire peaks for over six months. Occasional eruptions, smoke plumes, and lava flows were not unusual. But this was different. The ground itself had never shaken like this.
He looked to Ghidorah, whose heads had all risen, alert and tense. Their usually lazy, bored expressions were replaced with deep unease. Their golden eyes glinted with wariness.
"Let's go!" Red shouted, his voice almost lost to the rumbling earth.
He didn't hesitate.
He sent a clear command to all three of his dragons, using both voice and mind.
Escape. Now.
Ghidorah responded without delay. Spreading his massive wings, he leapt into the air, scattering dust and broken stone with each beat. The other two dragons, previously waiting nearby, took off immediately behind him.
As they soared upward, Red could feel the chaotic winds generated by their wingbeats. Below them, the crater continued to shift, stone collapsing inward.
But then—just as suddenly as it had started—the shaking stopped.
In midair, Red glanced down. The tremors vanished like a mirage. The crater below was still again. Silent. Peaceful.
It was as if the earth had exhaled… and gone back to sleep.
Red narrowed his eyes, skeptical. What had caused it? Had their digging triggered something? Or had they unknowingly disturbed a core structure within the volcano?
He couldn't say.
Still uneasy, he directed the dragons back toward their original cave—the fire peak they had once called home. It wasn't ideal. The space was tight, and the air stagnant. But it was better than being caught in a collapsing crater.
That night, as Red leaned against the cold wall of the cave, watching the sky darken, he fell deep into thought.
The day's excavation had produced valuable insight, yes—but also great danger. And night brought its own threats. Creatures roamed the ruins, and the darkness held secrets even dragons feared.
He muttered to himself as he stared into the shadows.
"No gains during the day… no movement at night…"
His brows furrowed deeper with each word.
"This can't go on. Maybe it's time to consider… moving elsewhere."
Ãdvåñçé 60 çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)