"Ahh… my head… ugh… but how did I even survive?"
Zhou Rui slowly pushed himself upright. He had been lying flat on the ground, and when he finally opened his eyes, he realized he was in a chamber awash in flickering light.
The walls, the ceiling, and even the floor were all formed from living magma—though for some reason, the floor beneath him was sealed in a thick layer of frosted ice.
Remarkably, he hadn't suffered a single injury from the fall.
He stood up carefully, his gaze sweeping over the chamber.
Everything shimmered with the molten glow of magma stone, but when his eyes fell on the walls, he saw something strange carved into the surfaces.
"What are these unique patterns and symbols?"
Along the walls, he found a series of primitive drawings, etched in deep grooves as if someone had carved them with a dagger.
One set of images depicted a tall stick-figure creature with two curved horns and a single, massive sword held aloft in its right hand. This horned figure was chasing several smaller stick-figure people—five or seven of them—who were fleeing in terror.
Zhou Rui turned to examine the next drawing.
Here, the same horned stick-figure stood locked in battle against some creature that looked vaguely like a dragon—though the crude style was so childlike, it was impossible to be certain.
The next carving showed the horned being sitting on a throne.
After that, there was only a single egg.
Then, the egg was cracked.
Next, something was emerging from the broken shell—a smaller stick-figure with a sword half the size of its body and a headband crowned with two curved horns.
An arrow pointed from this image to another carving: a massive throne.
Atop that throne, an orb was etched in the center of the seat. Another arrow connected the orb to the next scene, where the orb was shattered.
From the ruined orb, another arrow led to the final image—this time depicting the smaller horned figure, fully grown, wearing the same headband and carrying the same sword.
But in this last image, a bold X was drawn across it, as if to mark it as dead.
"What are these…child's drawings?"
Zhou Rui was deeply unsettled.
He looked around and realized he was inside a narrow corridor. The way behind him was completely sealed by solid rock—there was no going back.
"The ground is frozen here…which means my ice must have spread this far. There has to be a way back up."
He started walking forward, each step ringing with the soft crackle of ice beneath his boots—though the frozen surface never fully gave way.
All along the corridor, more carvings marked the walls, but Zhou Rui ignored them now, focused only on finding an exit.
Dozens of lanterns hung unlit on the walls. Yet as he passed, two lanterns ahead would ignite, while the ones behind him flickered out—like he was being guided forward by some unseen will.
Eventually, the tunnel ended at a broad staircase frozen over by his magic.
Zhou Rui began to climb.
Meanwhile, in the room filled with molten light, Anna stood frozen in shock.
Before her stood someone she recognized immediately.
"Mr. Friedrich?"
It was him. She knew by the shape of his back, the tension in his shoulders. He stood facing away, perfectly still.
Slowly, Friedrich turned to look at her.
"Anna…you finally came," he said in a low voice.
"What…what do you mean?" Anna asked, confused.
And then—
An arrow struck her squarely in the back.
The shaft crackled with a faint electric aura—just enough to paralyze.
"Wha—"
Her word was cut off as every muscle in her body locked up.
Her staff clattered from her hands.
And she collapsed onto the stone floor, her eyes wide open but unable to move.
Somewhere else, Zhou Rui reached the top of the staircase and stepped into another corridor that stretched toward a colossal gate forged from black volcanic stone.
Standing before it was a woman—easily nine feet tall—her body rippling with athletic muscle. Her chest and hips were impossibly generous, barely restrained by a simple leather bra and panties.
A massive longbow of polished brown wood rested against her back.
Her hair—long, straight, and the same rich brown as her weapon—flowed freely down past her waist. Two sharp horns curled up from her brow.
She stood perfectly still, arms folded beneath her chest as if she were casually supporting her own weight. Her eyes were closed, as though she had been waiting in tranquil patience for centuries.
The moment Zhou Rui's gaze landed on her, her eyes snapped open—deep brown irises glimmering like polished amber. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face, her red lips parting just enough to reveal perfect teeth.
And all around her, the lanterns blazed to life, bathing her in golden light that made her beauty even more surreal—like something conjured from a dream.