The interior of the volcano was shrouded in darkness—but not total blackness.
Faint glimmers of light flickered with the occasional burst of flame. Regardless of distance, the glow looked identical, emitted from the magma and volcanic gases—dim, yet strangely persistent.
Avia moved forward through the molten labyrinth of lava tubes and hardened rivers—each one unique in form, born of once-flowing magma that had since cooled and solidified. Interwoven like a colossal maze, these tunnels were suffused with searing heat, resembling a terrifying purgatory.
Though it gave rise to illusions of some magical domain, there was no sorcery shaping this place. And yet, back in the Age of Gods, there did exist structures that, by mere construction alone, could induce effects indistinguishable from magic—just as perfect symmetry could seize the hearts of men.
Perhaps it was the awakening power of Typhon that had imbued this place with a demonic presence.
Even so, the silver-haired youth pressed on, guided solely by the runes of Lúin, advancing with unwavering determination down this path of darkness, all the while pondering how to deal with Typhon.
If this Typhon were akin to the great god Ōkuninushi of the Eastern lands or to Set of ancient Egypt—if he were indeed the pure-blooded dragon born from Gaia's vengeful will, a superweapon incarnate—then Avia was certain that the divine aura of the Greek gods clinging to him would lead to a brutal clash with this Greek proto-dragon. After all, Typhon had been created for one purpose: to annihilate the Olympian gods.
But if she was Euphemilos, things would be somewhat easier. She had been devoured by Typhon at the behest of the Moirai—the Fates—her power used to weaken him. Her greatest wish had been freedom. Knowing this provided a potential opening.
Avia arrived at the magma chamber deep beneath the volcano, where the pressure and temperature were extreme. The lava lake before him surged above 1000 degrees Celsius.
Ordinary magic, after the Age of Gods, could no longer withstand such searing heat. However, Avia, having inherited the primordial runes from the Great Phantom God, was protected by Lúin and could endure it.
And so, he leapt into the lava, diving toward the very bottom—toward the location of Typhon's physical form.
Unlike the typical orange-red, the magma here was blood-red. As he descended, Avia watched it churn and flow like liquid fire, casting dazzling light.
Bubbles rose and burst all around, releasing soft hissing sounds. The magma roared with a deep, resonant rumble—like the fury of some slumbering beast.
Finally, at the deepest point of the lava lake, Avia saw a figure—a girl in appearance.
There she stood, in the hidden heart of the volcano, at the molten core, as if awaiting the arrival of the silver-haired youth.
Her crimson hair fanned out in the blood-red lava. One eye gold, the other black—together embodying light and darkness.
Her entire body was cloaked in a black substance that writhed like a mass of living serpents.
And so, Avia knew—she was Typhon.
"This presence… just as I thought," murmured the red-haired girl—presumably Typhon's avatar—as her gaze fell upon the silent Avia. "Albion, Zeus, the Greek gods… artifacts imbued with conceptual curses… even foreign deities from distant lands. Hmph. In other words, you're the so-called 'hero' those fools pinned their hopes on. But you know, I was reborn because of you. This disaster? You brought it about."
With those cheerful words, the black chaotic skin covering her human form began to peel away. Her body exploded with scarlet motes of light, the departing chaos resonating with the crimson glow, rippling outward in waves of strange vibration.
In less than a second, the girl transformed into the true body of Typhon—a colossal being. Though it didn't move, it felt as if the entire Mount Etna trembled in its presence.
"Human, fight me. Burn your fate to the very end. Cry out in tragic agony—and who knows, I might, out of some immense benevolence, grant your final wish before your death."
From both sides of Typhon's massive frame, countless feathers swept forth in arcs. A vortex of thunderstorm-like force tore through the magma—red and black streaks of destruction made manifest, enough to vaporize the world. A cyclone of distortion that defied the laws of physics surged forth, allowing no obstacle to remain; anything caught in its path instantly desiccated, every molecule broken apart.
This apocalyptic attack came crashing down on either side of Avia.
It was Typhon's new weapon—rebuilt after deciphering Zeus's divine schematics—a reengineered armament of annihilation.
It harnessed the elements of fire and wind, inducing electrically charged particles with inverted magical polarity. Red and black thunderclaps intertwined and blasted toward the enemy in one devastating burst.
Though by specification, its output could only reach the limits imposed by Zeus—
"Thou art the Thunder that rends the Cosmos."
"Are you the Primordial Dragon Typhon… or Euphemilos, the Day-Fruit?"
Avia paid no mind to the eruptions of magical energy around him. With the runes' protection, he could endure attacks that weren't Typhon's full power.
"Haha... I am the radiance of 'what must be'—cast down into this world. I am the storm of 'howling chaos' that must engulf it—Typhon."
All around, bubbles continued to rise and burst with gentle hisses.
"As for Euphemilos, the Day-Fruit sent by the Moirai... she and I are now one. I've already absorbed her power. Zeus can no longer stop me with his underhanded tricks. Oh, and by the way, the Olympian gods are gone now. They've vanished from this world—never to return. I feel so free."
Reappearing in human form, Typhon smiled with savage delight.
"Look at it now—humans, the world, all of it. Those so-called gods of Olympus—those petty illusions humans clung to and called 'precious'—they're nothing but hollow fantasies. Better that they've disappeared."
"...Is that all you wanted to say?"
Avia stood like death incarnate—silent, imposing—gazing down at the red-haired girl, her claws gleaming, from his superior height.
"Hmm… oh, right," the girl muttered. "I mentioned earlier that I've acquired Euphemilos's power, didn't I? In your terms, she was a 'wish-granting machine.'" Typhon gave a sly smile. "I'm quite kind, you know. Very generous. And since it was your doing that brought me back, I suppose I owe you something. Hmm-hmm. Why don't you make a wish? I'm very good at keeping my promises."
Her golden eye softened, gazing "sincerely" up at the silver-haired youth, her red brows slowly relaxing as if to say: Go ahead—wish.
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