Arthur hauled himself up from the collapsed tomb, his claws scraping against the cracked stone as he emerged into a new landscape. His wings tucked tightly against his back, and his massive, thick tail dragged along the ground, stirring up loose embers that floated in the air. What stood before him now was Cinderspire Gorge, and it was unlike anything he’d seen so far.
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The jagged black spires twisted out of the ground like monstrous claws, each towering structure charred and cracked, as if the earth itself had once tried to claw its way to the heavens. Winds howled through the narrow gaps between these stone formations, whistling in strange, haunting melodies that sounded like the whispers of forgotten beings. Arthur’s molten claws scraped the ground, and he marveled at how the very air seemed to pulse with ancient energy.
Heat waves rose from the blackened earth, making the horizon ripple like a mirage. Arthur inhaled deeply, tasting ash on the back of his tongue, and the sulfurous winds stung his nostrils. His scales prickled in the searing air, though his evolved body withstood the heat without much issue. Every step across the cracked terrain echoed with a sense of desolation—as if this place had been abandoned for millennia, frozen in time by fire and ruin.
There was something humbling about it. He felt small. Even though his monstrous form now towered at seventy-five feet, the sheer scale of the world around him made him feel insignificant. These jagged spires, these ancient monuments of stone—they had been here long before him and would remain long after.
For a moment, Arthur thought back to his fragmented memories of Earth. His human life had faded into obscurity, but the feeling of standing against something so massive and unknowable was familiar. How many times had he felt this way before—small, powerless, insignificant?
But not anymore.
He flicked open his [Map], scanning the area ahead. The white signal still pulsed northward, calling to him like a distant drumbeat. The system wasn’t giving him any hints about what it was, but Arthur trusted his instincts. He narrowed his eyes, scanning for any red-level threats, but nothing serious popped up yet—just clusters of yellow signals, blinking faintly from the deeper parts of the gorge.
The spires intrigued him, though. They were pitch black, warped and twisted from heat, yet sturdy—each one seemed capable of withstanding unimaginable temperatures. He raised a claw and slashed at one experimentally, expecting it to crumble. The result surprised him. The spire remained intact, his claws leaving only the faintest scratch.
Curious, Arthur used [Analyze].
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Object: Obsidian Spire
Description: A natural formation of volcanic rock fused with elemental essence. Resistant to extreme heat but susceptible to impact-based forces. Known to shatter under sufficient blunt trauma.
Arthur grinned. "Susceptible to impact, huh?" He turned slightly, bracing himself before swinging his thick tail with immense force. A deep crack echoed through the air as part of the spire snapped off, sending shards tumbling to the ground.
He bent down, lifting one of the broken pieces. It was heavy—cool to the touch, despite its origin. This might come in handy later, he thought. Maybe he could make something out of it. A massive drake wielding a sword? Arthur chuckled at the ridiculous image, but he still stuffed the shard into his [Inventory]. Who knows—better safe than sorry.
Just as he finished stowing the shard, his [Map] blared with several yellow signals. Arthur tensed. The signals were clustered deep within the gorge, and they had started moving toward his position.
"Something heard that." His horns buzzed faintly with instinctual alarm, the red runes glowing faintly.
The creatures must have been lying in wait, hidden among the cliffs. Arthur activated [Aura of Dread] immediately. A wave of terror rippled outward, distorting the air like a tremor of malevolent energy. The yellow signals on his [Map] stopped moving, momentarily stunned. Arthur’s lips curled into a grin—they weren’t expecting this.
But the white signal was still down there, pulsing steadily. Whatever it was, Arthur needed to know. This was risky. He could be ambushed on the way down, surrounded by creatures hiding in the jagged cliffs—but he had to go.
He crouched low and began scaling the side of the gorge, claws digging into the volcanic stone as he descended carefully. The jagged cliffs groaned beneath his weight, but his Hardened Carapace helped absorb the strain.
As he climbed deeper, Arthur felt his energy start to wane. He cursed under his breath—he needed food. His claws clutched the cliffside as he pulled open his [Inventory] and summoned one of the Nooms from storage. But before he could even bring the creature to his maw, a shadow fell over him.
The air rippled with intense heat, and a screech tore through the sky—a piercing, predatory cry that set Arthur’s nerves on edge.
He turned his head just in time to see them—Cinderhawks.
They emerged from the shadows of the cliffs, their massive ember-like wings crackling with energy. The air around them shimmered with heatwaves as they swooped down in coordinated sweeps, aiming for Arthur with talons that glowed like molten metal.
Arthur snarled. "Flying bastards—just what I needed."
The Cinderhawks were sleek and dangerous, their feathers glowing with ember-like patterns that pulsed as they flew. Their screeches echoed off the cliffs, disorienting him. He could feel the heat radiating off their wings, scorching the air around them.
Arthur swiped at the first hawk, but it dodged effortlessly, banking mid-air before slashing at his flank with burning talons. His Hardened Carapace absorbed the worst of it, but the blow still stung.
Arthur roared, frustrated, and tried to rely on his [Psychic] ability, but his horns barely flickered. He was too low on energy to focus.
The hawks weren’t just fast—they were coordinated, diving in and out in synchronized strikes. They reminded him of the Sulfur Prowlers, except these were airborne—and even more annoying. Arthur twisted his massive body, trying to swipe at them with his claws, but they were too quick.
One of them made the mistake of getting too close.
Arthur lashed out with a snap of his jaws, biting down hard on the closest hawk. The creature screeched in agony, blue blood spurting from its mangled body as Arthur crushed it between his teeth. The moment the warm blood hit his tongue, he felt a jolt of energy surge through him, rejuvenating his tired muscles.
Without missing a beat, Arthur’s horns glowed brighter—the red runes along them pulsing ominously. He activated his [Psychic] ability again, this time with renewed strength.
The remaining hawks screeched in panic as their minds were overwhelmed, trapped within Arthur’s mental grip. He held them mid-air, helpless.
With a snarl of satisfaction, Arthur crushed the hawks within his psychic grasp, their bodies bursting into pools of blue blood and smoldering feathers.
The smaller hawks, witnessing his display of dominance, shrieked in fear and fled into the distant cliffs, their ember-like wings flickering as they vanished from sight.
Arthur exhaled slowly, watching the last of them disappear. "Smart choice."
He glanced at the dead hawks, but no system notification greeted him. No progress. No rewards. Arthur’s tail thumped the ground in frustration. What was going on? Why wasn’t the system recognizing these kills?
With a growl, he turned his attention back to the white signal on his [Map], still pulsing deeper within the gorge.
He wiped the blood from his claws and began his descent once more, muttering to himself. "This better be worth it."