An idea sprouted in Red's mind like a fragile seed—a thought he had initially brushed aside now began growing, pushing itself into every corner of his consciousness. It was dangerous but undeniable: perhaps they needed to move—abandon this fire‑peak crater that teemed with volcanic power yet felt increasingly treacherous.
Though the location offered abundant geothermal energy, it harbored too many unknown dangers. The place had once felt secure, but now its every tremor and rumble seemed like a warning.
Red tried to push the idea aside, to fully analyze the consequences of relocating. But before he could finish weighing the options, an unsettling sensation interrupted him.
He looked down—and froze.
The solid rock floor beneath his feet, once cold and stable, now radiated a slight but growing warmth, as though something beneath was heating itself. At the same time, a subtle but persistent rumble pulsed upward, like the crawling of innumerable tiny insects beneath his skin.
His heart fell.
A low hum echoed through his spine, a sudden premonition that something was terribly wrong.
He didn't hesitate.
In one swift motion he rushed out of the relatively safe confines of the dragon's lair, onto the uneven stone platform beyond.
Outside, the last embers of sunset were being swallowed by dusk, turning the sky from orange to deep violet. But Red's gaze was fixed on the crater's scarred visage—a deep fissure that sliced a third of the fire‑peak from crest to rim. It looked as if a giant blade had cleaved the earth itself.
Once, water had seeped calmly from the crack. Now, instead, it roiled with dark red magma, bubbling slowly like molten asphalt. The air carried a sharp, sulfurous odor that stung Red's nostrils. Waves of magma churned and shimmered, more turbulent than ever before—a terrifying signal that something enormous, ancient, and powerful was stirring beneath.
"Damn it!" Red's heart raced. "Is this volcano…about to erupt?!"
He had never imagined the very volcano that gave him life might now strike back with lethal force.
Sensing the shift in their surroundings—and feeling the growing dread in their master—Red's dragons snapped to alertness. King Ghidorah, the black dragon Yim (or Im), and the red dragon Aegon rose simultaneously, growling in confusion and instinctual fear.
They crowded the entrance of the cave, wings unfurled and bodies tense, eyes flicking between the rumbling crater and Red. They looked at him for commands.
He did not hesitate.
With urgency, Red climbed onto the stable back of Im, the black dragon. He held tight to its ridged scales and threw one final command: "Take off! Now—get us out of here!"
Without a moment's pause, Im beat its wings. Ghidorah and Aegon followed order and flapped into the night sky, carrying Red upward and away from the trembling earth.
As they ascended, the ground's thrashing beneath them intensified. Pebbles and gravel tumbled down the crater walls like rain, rattling and crashing as they tumbled. In the fissure, magma burst to life—thick rivers of lava poured from the crack, flowing hot and fast along the peak's side.
From above, Red watched wide-eyed as the fire‑peak transformed into a river of destruction. Lava spread across the slope, igniting fissures, sending columns of smoke and ash skyward—an inferno unleashed.
Every sensory alarm screamed inside him: the heat, the shaking, the magma—none of it random coincidence. Together they spelled one thing: a volcano losing control, likely triggered by their excavation or worse, by a silent intelligence watching their every move.
He swallowed hard. Two major tremors in quick succession—both aligned with abnormal geothermal activity—felt deliberate. The paranoia that had crept into his mind earlier now hardened into conviction: something, or someone, is targeting us.
But what power would monitor them so precisely? What force would orchestrate such calamity?
He had no answers—only the unsettling feeling that he'd become bait in some unseen trap.
Then the real horror began. Without warning, the crater wall nearest the crack collapsed in a roar, sending a massive landslide hurtling downward. Dust and debris soared into the air like a storm. Magma surged through the opening as if a living beast had smashed its shackles.
The crater they'd inhabited for over half a year—home that had once felt safe—disintegrated in an instant. The dragon's lair crumpled into ash and smoke. Black smoke and blazing flames billowed upward, erasing all signs of shelter.
High above, safe in the sky, Red watched the catastrophe below with frozen dread. A fierce, bone‑chilling coldness filled his heart.
My home... gone. In one stroke.
But this was no act of nature. The precision of destruction, the timing… it pointed unequivocally to a purposeful act. Something had triggered the collapse at the exact moment—targeted.
Red exhaled slowly, steadying himself.
"We have no choice…" he said quietly through gritted teeth. His voice shook. "We must leave this world behind. Relocate… find another fire‑peak."
He forced himself to assess the dark terrain below. In the dim glow of embers and smoke, his eyes fixed on another nearby fire‑peak—one familiar enough, where Aegon had stayed previously. It appeared stable, at least for now.
He ordered the dragons to turn toward it. Their wings cut through the night air as they veered eastward, escaping the inferno behind them.
A new dragon's lair awaited—a new beginning. But in his mind, a dark question echoed: What force could track us across peaks and time our death with such exactitude?
When they landed near the next fire‑peak, Red did not descend immediately. Instead, he asked his dragons to wait outside the cave entrance. He remained mounted on Im, scanning the mountain shadows, watching, listening.
He found a flat, elevated rock plateau beside the new cave entrance—just enough space for all three dragons to rest. He allowed them to settle there, quietly commanding vigilance.
Inside, he settled his nerves. Did he truly overreact? Were tremors and eruptions so precisely timed just a cruel coincidence?
He repeated a silent mantra to himself: Don't come. Please don't come. Let this be nothing.
Minutes stretched into hours. The sky darkened into inky night. Stars emerged. The world remained silent, still. Insects quieted. No tremors. No lava. No collapse.
Gradually, Red's shoulders sagged. Tension drained away. Maybe he'd been too anxious. Maybe volcanic activity could be erratic—and his fears were just nerves frayed by recent seismic events.
In his previous life, even in high‑tech societies, such precise geothermal manipulation sounded like fantasy—as if volcanoes were alive and could be controlled.
He nudged his dragon's flank lightly. The beasts had relaxed as little by little they felt safe again: Ghidorah's heads leaned on each other in awkward camaraderie; Im and Aegon settled onto the plateau; breaths slowed. Their massive bodies rose and fell in even rhythm.
Red's eyelids drooped. The last traces of anxiety peeled away as sleep crept in.
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