The Flood Dragon huddled in a hollow in the rock wall, trembling all over. Its scales stood on end, not from the heat, but from fear. That terror came not from Chen Hao, but from beneath the magma. From beings stronger than itself.
Chen Hao glanced at it. "Wait here for me."
The Flood Dragon nodded frantically.
Chen Hao turned to face the sea of fire. He formed a seal with both hands, and the barrier around him changed from pale gold to golden white, more than doubling in thickness. Then he leaped, plunging into the magma like a falling meteor.
A world of magma.
There was no sky, no ground. Above, below, and on every side, there was nothing but dark red, churning liquid.
The temperature was so high that even light distorted. Under the crushing pressure of the magma, Chen Hao's barrier hummed like a struck bronze gong.
He descended rapidly.
The deeper he went, the darker the magma became, shifting from dark red to deep crimson, then from deep crimson to dark purple.
He had sunk an unknown number of tens of thousands of meters, and the pressure kept increasing. His barrier buckled inward until less than an inch separated it from his skin. Chen Hao added another layer and continued downward.
Suddenly, he stopped.
Something was moving in the magma below. Not churning, but swimming—like a fish through water, only much larger.
The creature slowly rose from the depths of the magma, looming larger and larger. Its head appeared first—antlers, branching and imposing like those of a True Dragon, gleaming dark gold in the magma.
Then came its body, several times larger than the Flood Dragon's, as thick as a train and covered in dark red scales. Yet it had no legs. Its body undulated like