153. Beyond the Sky (VIII) (Patreon)

He sprung off a shelf of stone, climbed up a steep rock face, and emerged at the top of the volcano. The lip of the thing was barely thick enough to fit his two feet before it dropped off into the volcano’s molten innards. It stretched into the distance on both sides—so far it was lost in the smoke belching from the volcano’s mouth.

Dorian glanced down.

The crater could’ve fit the Azcan stadium. It looked very much like a second Sinkhole, but stocked with a bubbling soup of shining reddish-orange lava, thick with flaming qi. Floats of tar drifted over the top. The whole thing was restless, in constant chaotic motion; whirlpools of lava swirled here and there. Giant chunks of blackened stone would rear up in random spots before falling in again. Hissing geysers, crackling brilliant yellow, rose up all over. And through it all the lava in the crater was shifting slowly in one massive circle, as though stirred by an invisible ladle.

Looking down at it Dorian had a second shock—a feeling that very much recalled the Azcan Sinkhole.

Resonance! His blood was running hot in his veins, hotter than it ever had. It was as though it, too, was stirred by these hot flows.

It was a faint thing. It wasn’t anywhere near what he’d felt next to his Javelin, or a Bloodline relic. He suspected there was no Bloodline Relic here at all! It was simply his body reacting to its natural habitat, the way a relaxed warmth might wash over a weary traveler after he returns home from a long journey.

He was struck by the absurd urge to leap in. His very Blood called for it! He almost did it. Then—hold on.

He squinted at the bubbling surface. Then he yanked out a plate of steel and let it drop into the crater.

It sank into the mess of lava, turned molten yellow and melted all the way through, and was soup-ified in a blink.

Dorian frowned. Am I more heat resistant than steel?

He’d come seeking a place of great pressure and fire to make his breakthrough. A volcano, the Torchdragon’s natural habitat, had seemed tailor made for his needs! But now that he was here, staring down at the least inviting swimming pool in the world, he paused.

How do I know I won’t be cooked alive when I jump in?

And what was his master plan, really? Take a bath? Perhaps find a nearby cave and marinate in the dense lava-aspected qi? He hadn’t really settled on a firm answer. He’d gotten into the irresponsible habit of playing things by ear of late—times being what they were. But even so it would’ve been quite sensible to figure out just how fire resistant he was before coming all this way…

He scratched his head. Could he treat it like any other swimming pool? I suppose I can dip a toe in? It’s no great loss.

…Well! He shrugged. I’ve hardly got any better ideas, have I?

Feeling quite silly, he nimbly leapt off the lip, hopped once off the air, and dug into a crag on the crater wall. Then he began to climb carefully down.

Fifty paces from the lava’s surface and the heat was but a warm tickle still.

Thirty and it was as hot as any gale on summer solstice.

Fifteen and he was really starting to feel it now. Heat licked at his skin in a way disturbingly reminiscent of that heat-chamber the Torchdragons trapped him in—less intense, but still... he licked his lips, a tad nervous. The first inklings of sweat beaded his brow. He kept climbing.

Ten paces and it only got worse.

Five and he was slightly worried his hair would catch on fire from the heat alone! His skin had started to shiver a little from the heat—shiver—as though it remembered what it felt like the last time he’d gotten near such searing heat.

He stared down at the lava flows which seemed to gurgle at him, as though eager to swallow him whole.

Now that he was here the whole thing seemed a little ridiculous. What was he to do—emulate the Torchdragon? Bathe in its natural habitat? And what would he do if after he stuck in a toe it just melted? Go back to Azcan having wasted a day and a digit? It was all one very tenuous gamble. Huge payoff, to be sure, but face-to-face with it he was suddenly struck by how silly it all sounded. But he’d come this far already…

May as well!

Hesitantly he began to head down once more, foot by foot.

Below him the lava flows gurgled even more eagerly. Was it just his imagination or were they bubbling more now? Was it lit brighter yellow than it was a second ago—and brighter now still?

And surely it wasn’t his fevered mind making up that ever-so-slight trembling. He felt it in his fingers, gripping the rock wall; saw it rippling along the lava flows. The surface of the volcano was brightening with yellowish qi.

Dorian’s eyes widened—

Something’s coming!

The rumbling grew louder, more intense, and above him reams of rock broke off, showered into the lava. Furious heat smothered him. It all came on too fast; even as he flickered on Serpent’s Senses and took one desperate leap into open air he saw the lava’s surface go white-hot, painful to look at. Shit!

It came up like a cannonball, and Dorian could not avoid the blast. Lava surged up in a mini-explosion. It caught him instantly and for a second it flashed over him, totally drenching him. He got one blessed moment to take in the fact that it felt like he’d been dunked in a tub of scalding quicksand—no melted digits, no fried skin—before he was torn down with it, splashing helplessly into the molten pool.

An instant later he resurfaced, gasping. Treading water—lava?—and looked up.

What the fuck.

Something monstrously huge flapped its wings in the air above him, wings rippling with thick crimson feathers. It had a plume like a peacock, but longer, stretching out behind it like a gown woven of the colors of autumn. But its most distinctive feature—the thing that made Dorian’s heart skip a beat—was its nine heads, each more hideous than the last. It was like someone had fused a hydra with a phoenix, and out came this half-baked monstrosity. It screeched; Dorian could nearly feel his eardrums bleeding at the sound. It somehow had both the deep bellow of a dragon and the piercing lance of the Phoenix’s cry.

Nine-headed Phoenix!

Oh, Hells… If there was ever any doubt in Dorian’s mind there was a portal to Hells somewhere here, it was now wiped out. This thing was the ancestor to the Fenghuang, the True Phoenix! It, like the Torchdragon, was one of those nasty critters dwelling in Hell’s hottest regions. Only—it usually made its roosts in at least the Upper Middle Realms of Hell, or even the Upper Realms themselves! This thing burst with the aura greater than even a creature at the peak of the Sky Realm; it was a half-step into Godhood.

What was a baby Nine-Headed Phoenix doing here? Could it be that realm portal led higher up in the circles of Hell than he’d surmised? Huh. Interesting. He studied it with what felt like an inappropriate level of calmness.

Then the thing folded its mighty wings; it dove straight at him, the beaks of all Nine of its heads gurgling with flame.

Give it five centuries years simmering in the heat of Hell—five centuries to grow fat off the Laws of Fire and take that final step into Godhood—and it might’ve posed a threat. But it would not have that time.

Yama’s Chains!

Ten chains burst out. Nine to bound up the heads as they came down, choking off the would-be flamethrowers. One to hold still the body.

It felt a little like he was a child again, tearing the legs off a spasming insect. The thing’s eyes bulged red as it regarded him—first with fury, then fear as it felt Dorian’s force come in full. There was a pleasant twanging of the tendons, a sharp snapping as bones tore loose. Then nine heads splashed into the lava, one by one. The body went next.

As it was, nothing short of the divine could touch Dorian now. Not even a creature a half-step away. It was almost too easy.

My. I’m so powerful now I manage to surprise even myself sometimes!

And now that he knew he had lava resistance… well. He considered the gurgling pool below him. It felt hot—bordering on too hot to physically handle—but his body was acclimating to it at a shocking rate.

If he had his way, by the end of this nothing in this realm—not even the avatar of a god—could contend with him!

Now for the main course. It was time to make this volcano, this whole simmering cauldron of rich fire-qi, his cultivation chamber.

But first he had to make it truly his. If it hid a Nine-Tailed Phoenix in its depths, what other nasty surprises might it have in store for him? Even at the surface he could sense deep upwellings of qi, upwellings of gigantic proportions, swirling beneath. The deeper he spread his senses the richer the qi got. And not by some tiny margin, either—it got richer and denser at a near exponential rate!

Almost as though it’s the qi of another Realm, a godly realm, leaking into this one…

His eyes flashed.

Some exploration was in order.