The group pressed onward through the vast expanse of the Magma Stomach, their footsteps echoing off the scorched stone beneath them. Cyrus led the way, guided by an inexplicable feeling that pulled him towards the primordial canine. Without this internal compass, their quest would have been like searching for a particle of magic in the midst of a raging storm.
As they ventured deeper into the fiery realm, a new sound began to emerge from the ambient roar of heat and flame. It started as a distant rumble, barely perceptible, but grew steadily louder with each step. Soon, the unmistakable crash of falling lava reverberated through the chamber, the sound so intense it seemed to vibrate in their very bones.
Rounding a corner, they were met with a breathtaking sight. A waterfall of magma cascaded down before them, its molten flow creating a lake of liquid fire at its base. The walls surrounding them were etched with fine red lines, pulsing with heat and energy. Stones, made malleable by the extreme temperatures, flowed like viscous liquid around the edges of the magma lake.
Cyrus hesitated, his eyes fixed on the terrifying spectacle before them. "It's behind there," he said, his voice barely audible over the roar of the falls. Despite the protection offered by their suits, the sheer scale of the molten cascade gave him pause. This was no mere current of hot air - it was a relentless torrent of liquid rock.
The Prophet, seemingly unfazed by the daunting obstacle, stepped forward. "Let's go," he said simply, leaping onto one of the semi-solid stones floating in the lava lake. Leora and the other three followed suit without hesitation.
Left with no alternative, Cyrus took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He followed their lead, jumping from stone to stone, each landing sending a jolt of adrenaline through his system. The heat was oppressive, even through their protective gear, and Cyrus could feel sweat beading on his brow.
Their progress was smooth, almost deceptively so, until the moment everything changed. Without warning, a figure erupted from the lava, launching itself high into the air. Caught off guard, Cyrus stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding a splash of magma that crashed down where he had been standing moments before.
As the figure landed, blocking their path, Cyrus got his first good look at their assailant. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Humanoid in form, but clearly not human, the creature stood before them, steam rising from its body. Two long antennae protruded from its forehead, waving gently as if tasting the air. Its body was covered in what appeared to be an exoskeleton, adorned with fiery red patterns that seemed to shift and move. The shoulders and forearms of the creature shimmered with a soft red hue, as if molten rock flowed just beneath the surface.
"In-tru-ders are not allow-ed in the co-lo-ny," the creature intoned, its voice halting and mechanical.
Cyrus turned to the Prophet, confusion evident on his face. "I thought magma ants couldn't talk," he said, reaching for his Mustang. Without waiting for a response, he fired off a shot at the creature.
The magma ant moved with surprising speed, flickering out of the path of the bullet and lunging towards the group. The Prophet's voice cut through the chaos, a note of urgency in his tone. "They shouldn't be able to. Something has changed here - be careful!"
As if summoned by the Prophet's warning, more magma ants burst from the lava around them. These new arrivals moved with fluid, rapid motions that spoke of trained combat skills. They unleashed a fury of attacks, their molten fists leaving trails of fire in the air.
"Leora!" Cyrus called out, recognizing the need for their combined strength. She nodded in understanding, her hair beginning to flutter as she unleashed her mind control abilities. A wild golden aura exploded around her, and Cyrus felt the familiar sensation of her consciousness merging with his own.
With his senses heightened to superhuman levels, Cyrus moved with incredible speed and precision. He dodged to the side as a magma ant's fist shattered the rock where he had been standing, retaliating with a barrage of magical bullets from his Mustang.
His eyes flickered with blue energy as he called upon a spell he had been perfecting - Eagle Shot. The magical blast erupted from his weapon, and though the targeted magma ant managed to sidestep, the shot caught it in the head, shattering its molten skull.
Landing on one of the floating rocks, Cyrus engaged in an epic close-quarters battle with the magma ants. He wove between their attacks, his movements a deadly dance of evasion and counterattack. He switched fluidly between his Mustang and his magical sword, each strike precise and lethal. The air filled with the sound of magical impacts and the sizzle of vaporizing lava as Cyrus carved a path through their attackers.
Despite the superhuman reflexes granted by Leora's power, Cyrus could feel his muscles screaming in protest. The constant movement, the oppressive heat, and the intensity of the combat were pushing him to his absolute limits. But he pressed on, knowing that to falter now would mean certain death.
The Prophet and the other three members of their group had retreated, leaving Cyrus to hold off the brunt of the attack. Recognizing the need for a decisive move, Cyrus concentrated his energy, channeling it into his Mustang. The weapon's muzzle began to glow with building power.
With a thunderous report, Cyrus fired, unleashing a dazzling arc of energy that slammed into the magma lake. The impact sent a wall of lava rising several meters into the air, creating a momentary barrier between them and their pursuers.
Seizing the opportunity, the group fled through the magma waterfall, leaving their bewildered enemies behind. As they ran towards their destination, Cyrus turned to the Prophet, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"You said something has changed here. What do you mean?" he asked between breaths.
The Prophet's response was grim. "The primordial canine might be the cause. It seems its power has transformed the once inoffensive magma ants into formidable killing machines. And those we fought were just workers. The Magma Stomach is a colony of ants. Logically, there should be food gatherers, workers, and soldiers. The ones we encountered were likely evolved workers."
Cyrus felt a chill despite the oppressive heat. "That leaves the soldiers and the queen," he said, sweat trickling down his face. He had anticipated the hostile environment and perhaps resistance from the Bureau, but the addition of these evolved magma ants raised the stakes to a whole new level. The soldiers and the queen were sure to provide an even greater challenge.
As they fled through the winding tunnels, a series of impacts echoed from somewhere ahead. The group halted, tension thick in the air. Leora's voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "Someone is fighting ahead."
Cautiously, they approached the source of the sounds. As they peered around a corner, they were met with a sight that made Cyrus's blood run cold.
In the tunnel before them, a group of figures clad in black boots, black glasses, and black mantles were engaged in fierce combat with more magma ants. Their swords clashed against the molten exoskeletons of their foes with frightening efficiency. There was no mistaking their identity - it was the Bureau.
At the forefront of the battle was a figure Cyrus recognized all too well - Nemesis. His expression was hidden beneath his metallic mask, but his body language spoke of intense focus as he battled what appeared to be a magma ant soldier. This ant was different from the others they had encountered, its forearms encased in what looked like extra layers of magma, forming natural gauntlets.
Cyrus watched in disbelief as the magma ant soldier's fist hammered through the air, forcing Nemesis to raise his sword in defense. A sickening crack echoed through the tunnel as the impact sent Nemesis flying backward. Though he managed to flip in mid-air and land on his feet, the magma ant was already upon him, landing a solid blow to Nemesis's back.
It was a surreal sight. Nemesis, the feared executioner of the Bureau, known for his unparalleled combat skills, was being driven back. Each move of the magma ant forced Nemesis to retreat, a position Cyrus had never seen him in before.
"He's in a difficult position. I think it's our chance," Leora said, her voice tight with barely contained hatred.
Cyrus nodded, understanding her sentiment all too well. "He cut Lork's hands and almost killed us more than once. It's time he pays for all his crimes," he agreed without hesitation. A part of him recognized that attacking from behind wasn't the most honorable course of action, but against someone like Nemesis, he was willing to take any advantage they could get.
But before they could move, the Prophet's voice cut through their vengeful thoughts. "Don't move," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Nemesis is the pillar that keeps order in Arkania. His presence alone serves to deter many. If he disappears by our hand, the Bureau wouldn't let us live. You're not ignorant of our current state. We can't face the Bureau now - it would mark our premature end."
Cyrus felt frustration building within him. "What nonsense are you spouting? You know how the Bureau operates. The only reason we're all still standing is because we haven't crossed the line yet. This would be a great blow to them if we destroy him now," he insisted, his hands itching to strike at their longtime enemy.
The Prophet's response was measured but firm. "You still haven't understood. This is the reason why Liam was exiled from the Bite. He naively thought in the present, where actions create dominoes that only crumble in the future."
Leora's voice, tinged with reluctance, added weight to the Prophet's words. "He's right. We came for the primordial canine, nothing else." With that, she began moving in the opposite direction, away from the ongoing battle.
Cyrus stood frozen for a moment, torn between his burning desire for revenge and the cold logic of the Prophet's reasoning. His hands clenched and unclenched, every fiber of his being urging him to strike at Nemesis while he had the chance. But the Prophet's words echoed in his mind, forcing him to consider the long-term consequences of such an action.
With a frustrated sigh, Cyrus finally turned away, following after Leora and the others. As they continued their journey deeper into the Magma Stomach, Cyrus couldn't shake the feeling that this decision - to spare Nemesis when they had the chance to end him - would come back to haunt them. Little did he know how prophetic that feeling would prove to be, or how dearly he would come to regret this moment of restraint in the trials that lay ahead.