---
Yaman's knees were pressed into the molten stone until his skin blistered, his forehead raw and red from the heat. He could no longer feel the pain; only despair filled him. His father's magical presence flickered above like the last breath of a dying flame. Any moment, Fernando's aura would vanish forever.
"Please…!" Yaman's voice cracked, hoarse from heat and tears that evaporated before they could fall. His chest heaved. "Please, Gehinom! Save him! I'll do anything! Anything, even if it means my death!"
For a moment, silence stretched through the cavern, broken only by the groaning of molten rock. Then the dragon stirred on his obsidian throne. Gehinom's colossal head lowered, and his molten eyes burned into Yaman's trembling figure.
The magma dragon chuckled, low and rumbling, a sound that shook the cavern walls. His teeth gleamed like serrated blades of fire, his arrogance exuding with every word.
"You plead well, insect," he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "You beg, you grovel, yet your father still dies above. You cannot save him. You are powerless."
Yaman trembled, pressing his hands against the hot stone until his palms blistered. "I'll give anything! My life, my blood—just please—save him!"
Gehinom's eyes narrowed. In the depths of his ancient pride, a thought pierced him like a shard of ice. He was dying. His scar ached, his body weakened with every passing year, his pride crushed by the memory of Acnologia, whom he had failed to kill. He had lived for nothing but vengeance, yet death would steal even that from him.
But here was a boy, kneeling in despair, begging for power, begging for salvation. His desperation was a key. His hatred, a vessel. His soul—perfect fuel.
Slowly, Gehinom's sneer curved into a sly, arrogant smile. His voice dropped, heavy with temptation.
"Boy… I can help you. But only on one condition."
Yaman's head snapped up. His eyes, bloodshot and burning with tears and heat, locked on the dragon's colossal face. He stumbled to his feet, swaying, but his resolve was iron. "I will do anything! Even if it means my death!"
The dragon's molten laughter echoed through the cavern, shaking magma loose from the ceiling. "Good. Very good. You speak like one already damned." His voice grew silkier, dripping with prideful venom. "Then listen well, boy. I will make you a deal. What do you think of that?"
Yaman's chest tightened, but he forced himself to whisper, "What… what's the deal?"
Gehinom's eyes burned brighter, his tone seductively cruel. "I will give you the power you crave… the power to save your father… the power to slay that wretched Zeldris."
At that name, Yaman froze. His heart hammered. His breathing quickened. The cavern seemed to narrow around him, drowning him in rage. His gaze hardened, and his lips moved without thought, as though possessed.
"Power…" he whispered, trembling. "Power! I need power! I'll do anything… anything… even if it means selling my soul to the devil himself!"
Gehinom's laughter roared like an eruption, arrogant and merciless. The volcano shook, pillars of lava erupting as if the earth itself celebrated his triumph.
"So, the insect bares its fangs at last," Gehinom sneered. "Very well. The deal is struck. I shall give you power, boy… and in return, you shall give me what I demand—your body, your soul, your very existence shall belong to me."
Yaman's body was drenched in sweat, his mind screaming, his heart torn. Fear coiled in him like a snake, but his father's dying aura burned in his mind. His voice came cracked, broken—but firm.
"If it means saving him… then I… I agree!"
For the first time, Gehinom's eyes gleamed with genuine satisfaction, prideful and terrible. He leaned forward, his massive form blotting out the glow of the molten throne. His smile was all cruelty and arrogance, a god feasting on human desperation.
"Then rise, Yaman. From this moment, you are mine. You will be reborn as a Dragon Slayer. I will carve my legacy into your flesh, and you shall wield the might of magma itself."
The faint red Lacrima on the dragon's throne pulsed like a heartbeat. Its glow spread across the cavern, illuminating both Gehinom's monstrous face and Yaman's trembling, sweat-soaked body. The boy's eyes widened as the light surrounded him, crimson and black lightning flickering like a pact of blood and fire.
"Behold," Gehinom roared, his voice a decree to gods and demons alike. "You shall carry my Lacrima. You shall be the vessel of my wrath. You shall be… a Third-Generation Dragon Slayer!"
The Lacrima's glow swelled until it drowned everything, burning Yaman's vision, searing into his very bones. In that moment, his fate was sealed—not with mercy, but with blood, hatred, and the sly, arrogant smile of the magma dragon who had tricked a desperate boy into damning himself forever.
---
---
The Lacrima's glow flared brighter, pulsing like the heart of the volcano itself. Yaman stood frozen in its crimson light, sweat dripping, chest heaving, torn between dread and desperate hope. Gehinom's molten eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered into something heavier—like a whisper of damnation echoing through eternity.
"Do you even understand the power you beg for, boy?" Gehinom's words rumbled like thunder beneath the earth. "This is not mere Dragon Slayer magic. This… is a crime against gods and dragons alike. It is the most forbidden of all magics… Resurrection Magic."
The name alone seemed to make the cavern tremble. Even the lava hissed louder, as if recoiling from its utterance.
Gehinom rose from his throne, his colossal shadow swallowing Yaman whole. "Long ago, the Dragon King himself forbade its use. Why? Because this sorcery is a violation of balance, of life and death itself. It is not meant for mortals… nor even for dragons. It is an abomination."
Yaman's throat dried, but he forced out, "What… what is it?"
Gehinom sneered, his scar burning faintly as he spoke. His voice was heavy with arrogance and hatred, but beneath it, there was pride—pride in speaking of something no mortal should ever hear.
"Resurrection Magic is the rebirth of a dragon through a human vessel. The human becomes nothing more than a shell—a cage of flesh to house a dragon's power and soul. I will implant my Lacrima within you, and you shall walk as a Third-Generation Dragon Slayer. But understand, boy…" His voice dropped, sharp as a blade. "…This is not a gift. It is a curse."
Yaman's heart pounded. He opened his mouth, but Gehinom's roar silenced him, molten fire spilling from his jaws.
"When your body and soul have reached their peak—when you are honed by battle, broken by suffering, perfected by hatred—I will take what is mine. Your flesh, your spirit, your very existence. I will cast your soul into the abyss, into the endless void where no light nor hope exists. You will not die, boy. No—death would be mercy. You will live in eternal despair, screaming in the blackness of nothing, forever bound as punishment for violating the laws of gods."
The dragon's words burned hotter than the volcano's fire. The walls shook, and the Lacrima's light grew violent, casting grotesque shadows across the cavern.
Gehinom lowered his head, his massive molten eyes staring deep into Yaman's. "That is the price of Resurrection Magic. That is the fate of all who dare to walk this path. Eternal damnation for the vessel… and rebirth, infinite power, for the dragon."
He smirked, cruel and arrogant. "Do you still kneel, insect? Do you still beg for my help, knowing what awaits you?"
The Lacrima pulsed again, as if eager to consume him. The air was heavy, suffocating, like the very world was waiting for Yaman's answer.
---
---
The cavern shook with the beat of the volcano's heart. Lava hissed and spat from the walls as Yaman knelt before the colossal shadow of Gehinom, the Magma Dragon. His body trembled, his forehead pressed into the burning rock until it seared his skin red.
Yaman feels his father's magic fading. He no longer cares about his fate. He wants to save his father.
"Please… Gehinom," Yaman's voice cracked, raw with tears. "Save my father. I will do anything—anything you ask. Even if it means my death."
The dragon's laughter erupted, a sound so vast it seemed to tear through stone and flame. Lava geysers burst upward, spraying molten fire as his voice rumbled:
"What will you do to me, insect? You can't even save your father. You kneel, you beg—pathetic."
Still Yaman pressed himself lower, voice breaking. "Please… please…"
For a moment, Gehinom's molten eyes glinted—not with pity, but with curiosity. Then he caught the boy's desperate gaze, and something stirred. Not compassion, but opportunity. A sly, cruel smile spread across his jagged maw.
"Perhaps," he said slowly, arrogantly, "there is a way. A way to give you the strength to crush Zeldaris. A way to save your dying father."
Yaman's head snapped up, eyes wild. "What? You… you can?"
The dragon leaned closer, his shadow devouring Yaman whole. His voice lowered into a poisonous whisper.
"Yes. I can give you power. More power than you have ever imagined. But…" A cruel sneer twisted his molten lips. "…It comes with a price."
"I'll pay it!" Yaman shouted without hesitation, fists trembling. "Even if it costs my life—just give me the strength!"
Gehinom laughed again, mocking and proud. "Your life? Foolish boy, death would be mercy. No. What I offer you… is far darker."
The Lacrima on the dragon's throne began to glow—red, pulsing like a living heart. The light spread across the cavern, staining Yaman's pale, desperate face in crimson. Gehinom's voice thundered:
"This magic is forbidden. Resurrection Magic. It is a crime against gods and dragons alike. Long ago, the Dragon King himself forbade it, branding it a blasphemy. Do you know why, boy? Because it violates life and death itself. It is the rebirth of a dragon… through the body of a human vessel."
The words froze Yaman's breath. He whispered, "A… vessel?"
"Yes." Gehinom's molten gaze pierced him. "I will implant my Lacrima within you. You will walk as a Dragon Slayer, a third generation unlike any other. But when you have grown strong enough—when your flesh and soul are perfected—I will take what is mine. Your body, your spirit, your existence. You will not die. No. Your soul will be cast into the abyss, into the void where no light, no hope, no end exists. You will live in despair eternal, screaming for release that will never come."
The cavern trembled with the weight of his words. The lava swelled, restless, as if recoiling from the forbidden revelation.
"That is the fate of the vessel," Gehinom growled, his arrogance searing like flame. "And I will rise again, stronger, immortal, free to crush Acnologia and tear this wretched world apart. Do you understand, insect? This is no gift. It is damnation."
Yaman's knees buckled, sweat pouring down his face. His body shook under the dragon's aura. But then he remembered his father's voice, his bloodied body nailed to the volcanic rock. He remembered Zeldaris' laughter, his threat to kill him. Rage burned, twisting with grief.
His eyes hardened. His voice, though broken, rose firm and sharp:
"I don't care. If it means saving my father… if it means killing Zeldaris… I will sell my soul to the abyss itself!"
For the first time, Gehinom's arrogance deepened into satisfaction. His grin widened, revealing fangs like jagged mountains.
"Then it is done," he purred, voice dripping with cruel triumph. "You are mine, boy. Body and soul."
The Lacrima flared, flooding the cavern in blood-red light. Shadows danced wildly as if demons themselves celebrated.
"Now," Gehinom declared, pride swelling like magma rising to the sky, "you will become what humans fear and dragons despise. A Dragon Slayer born of damnation. The vessel of Gehinom, the Magma Dragon. Your fate is sealed, Yaman."
Yaman clenched his fists, face drenched in sweat and tears, but he did not falter. His voice cracked through the fire and thunder:
"I… I accept."
The Lacrima screamed with light, and the cavern erupted. The air shook, and the dragon's laughter mingled with Yaman's silent tears. The pact was sealed.
From this moment, Yaman's fate was no longer his own.