---
Zeldaris released his grip, and Yaman's body plunged into the inferno.
Fernando's scream tore through the volcanic winds:
"NOOO! YAMAN!!!"
The boy's unconscious form tumbled through the scorching air. The heat was unbearable — even without touching the lava, his skin blistered, his clothes caught fire, and his blood seemed to boil in his veins. His garments tore and evaporated, leaving his body raw, red, and scorched.
With a sickening crack, he struck a jagged slope of blackened rock. His head snapped back from the impact, pain surging through him. Blood spilled down his temple, sizzling on the stone.
Yaman's eyes fluttered open. His vision swam, filled with flames and shadows. His chest heaved in ragged breaths.
"The… heat…" he rasped, his throat dry, voice nearly gone.
He lifted his head, looking up. Far above, through the shimmering haze, he saw the rim of the crater — and faintly, his father's broken voice screaming his name, raw and desperate.
Tears welled in Yaman's eyes. But as they slid down his cheeks, the heat devoured them instantly — vanishing before they could even fall.
"…Father…" he whispered, his lips trembling.
Then he turned his gaze downward. Below stretched a valley of molten fire, a churning sea of lava that seemed alive, growling with the voice of a beast. The despair crushed him — the volcano was vast, endless, like a world of its own.
He tried to move, his feet slipping on the burning rock. The sole of his bare foot touched molten cracks — agony shot through him as his skin scorched black, but he forced himself forward.
Step by step. Stumble by stumble. His body was burning, trembling, breaking.
At last, as he neared the valley's edge, he collapsed to his knees. His body quivered, blood bubbling under his skin from the heat. The breath of death pressed against him.
But then… he saw it.
A shadow in the fire.
There, carved into the wall of the volcano's depths, was a massive entrance — a cavern, its shape unmistakable. Its maw stretched like the head of a dragon, fangs carved by time and nature, eyes glowing faintly with molten light.
Yaman's eyes widened, disbelief piercing through his despair.
"A… cave? In the shape of… a dragon…"
Something ancient stirred in the air. The sound of a distant growl reverberated through the stone, like a heart beating deep within the earth.
With what strength he had left, Yaman dragged himself toward it, the heat gnawing at his flesh, the shadows of fire dancing along the cave's entrance.
Step by agonizing step… until he crossed its threshold.
And the darkness swallowed him.
---
The heat inside the cave was worse than outside.
Yaman staggered forward, each step a war. His bare feet were shredded, blistered from the molten stone. His breathing was ragged, every inhale filling his lungs with air so hot it cut like fire.
He leaned against the wall, the black rock scorching his hand. The veins on his arms glowed faintly red, as if the lava outside was flowing inside his body now.
His mind blurred. His thoughts scattered. But the image of his father crucified, bleeding and screaming, forced him to keep moving.
"I can't… fall here… Not yet…"
The deeper he went, the more the air shifted. It wasn't just heat anymore — there was something else. A pulse. A rhythm, slow and heavy, like the beating of a heart.
Thump… thump… thump…
The sound reverberated through the stone, echoing in his bones. His chest tightened with each beat. It was as though the volcano itself was alive, watching him.
The cave walls were etched with strange markings — jagged runes glowing faintly crimson, pulsing in sync with the heartbeat. The deeper he went, the brighter they burned, illuminating his face with a sinister glow.
Yaman stumbled and fell to his knees, coughing blood. The hot liquid hissed as it struck the stone, evaporating instantly. His body trembled violently.
"I… I can't… move…"
But then he remembered the girl's words.
"If you go back there, you will die."
And his own reply.
"I laugh in the face of death."
A bitter smile cracked across his burned lips. His body screamed to stop, but he pushed himself up again, staggering deeper into the cavern.
The heartbeat grew louder.
Thump… THUMP… THUMP…
And then — he reached a vast chamber.
The ceiling was so high it disappeared into shadow. Lava dripped from cracks above, flowing into streams that lit the ground in rivers of fire. At the far end of the chamber, hidden behind a curtain of heat and smoke, two colossal, glowing shapes blinked open.
Eyes.
Enormous, ancient eyes.
Yaman froze. His entire body went cold despite the unbearable heat.
The ground trembled. The cavern walls quaked. From the depths of the shadows came a low, guttural growl, deep enough to rattle his bones.
"Who… dares…"
The voice was like magma itself — slow, rumbling, and filled with malice.
Yaman's blood boiled in fear, but his fists clenched. Despite the terror, despite his broken body, he whispered hoarsely:
"…I'm Yaman… son of Fernando…"
The eyes narrowed. The heartbeat stopped — and then resumed, louder, faster, as if the volcano itself was waking up.
---
---
The smoke parted.
And from the abyss of the cavern, a shape began to rise. At first, Yaman thought it was the mountain itself shifting — but then, the glow of lava traced its outline.
Scales.
Vast, jagged scales of black and crimson, each one glowing at the edges like molten steel fresh from a forge. The heat pouring off them was unbearable, warping the air into a shimmering haze.
Then came the horns — twisted like obsidian spires, dripping with sparks of molten rock. From the beast's nostrils erupted smoke, thick and acrid, mixed with fire that hissed like the breath of hell itself.
Finally, the eyes.
They opened wider, flooding the chamber with a blinding light. Twin furnaces of pure lava, burning with an eternal hatred. They weren't just looking at Yaman — they were piercing into him, stripping him bare, seeing his weakness, his fear, his defiance.
The creature stepped forward.
Every movement sent earthquakes through the cavern. Rivers of lava splashed and surged violently. The very volcano shook as though bowing to its master.
Its wings unfurled — vast, tattered banners of flame and shadow, spanning the chamber wall to wall. Their movement stirred a hurricane of scorching wind that nearly knocked Yaman off his feet.
And then, with a voice that rolled like a thousand eruptions, it spoke:
"I am Gehinom… the Magma Dragon.
The inferno of creation.
The destroyer of ages.
The eternal flame that burns gods and men alike."
The dragon lowered its head, its molten breath scorching the stone where Yaman stood.
"And you, child of darkness…
You dare tread into my domain?"
Yaman's body screamed at him to bow, to collapse, to submit before this overwhelming, godlike presence. His skin blistered, his blood boiled, his very soul trembled.
But through the pain, through the terror, he clenched his fists. His voice cracked, hoarse, but unyielding:
"…I dare."
The cavern fell silent.
And then Gehinom — the Magma Dragon — laughed.
It was no ordinary laugh. It was an eruption, a volcanic roar that shook the entire island, splitting stone, scattering fire, and shaking the sky
---
Yaman staggered forward, the heat blistering his skin, his bare feet raw against the blackened rock. Ahead, the cavern opened wide, so vast it felt like a world within the mountain. The walls glowed with veins of magma, like veins of fire pulsing through a living body. Lava cascaded down in rivers, pooling in a great lake that shone like liquid gold.
And at its heart, carved into the very stone, stood a throne.
Not built — but formed, as though the volcano itself had bent in worship to its master. A jagged colossus of obsidian and magma, large enough to seat a god.
And there he sat.
Gehinom, the Magma Dragon.
His massive form coiled around the throne like a serpent of fire and shadow. His chest heaved with breaths that cracked the stone, his eyes burned like twin suns drowning in blood and lava. His scales glimmered black, outlined by fiery seams that glowed with unbearable heat. His claws — each one longer than Yaman's body — clutched the throne's armrests like blades ready to rend the world.
When he spoke, his voice was not mere sound. It was eruption, avalanche, and judgment in one.
"So…" Gehinom's eyes narrowed, molten fire dancing inside them. "A fragile insect dares walk into the heart of the inferno. A child, scorched and broken, yet stubborn enough to stand."
Yaman fell to one knee, panting, his body betraying him. He could barely hold himself upright under the crushing weight of the dragon's aura. His skin burned, his blood bubbled, but his spirit screamed to resist.
Gehinom leaned forward slightly, smoke hissing from his maw.
"Do you know where you stand, boy?" The words thundered across the cavern. "This is no cave. This is my throne room. The seat of the inferno. The place where kings turn to ash and gods bow their heads."
His laughter shook the chamber, lava leaping as if rejoicing with him.
"I am Gehinom! I was here when your world was young, when your oceans were steam, and your mountains bled fire. I am flame unending. Pride incarnate. The doom of all who crawl and call themselves rulers."
He tilted his massive head closer, so near that Yaman could see his reflection trembling in the molten glow of those eyes.
"And you, insect… do you come as offering? Or do you come to kneel?"
Yaman gritted his teeth, sweat and blood dripping from his face, every nerve screaming in agony. Yet his voice, though hoarse, did not break:
"…I am just fell here but if you want fight i will be ready."
A silence fell.
Then, Gehinom's laughter returned, thunderous and arrogant, bouncing across the throne room like rolling magma. The sound made the molten rivers flare brighter, as though the volcano itself delighted in the dragon's mirth.
"Fight? Hah! You have no scales, no flame, no eternity in your bones. You are a child playing war in the furnace of gods. But…"
The dragon's fangs gleamed as he smiled, cruel and amused.
"…I admire your arrogance. You remind me of myself."
---