The plateau stretched endlessly, jagged and molten, beneath the bruised sky. Rivers of fire coiled like serpents, bubbling and hissing, and obsidian spires stabbed the empty heavens. Thomas moved cautiously, claws scraping against the black stone, molten veins pulsing faintly as he adjusted to the rhythm of the hellscape. Liora coiled beside him, serpentine body flowing with silent precision, while Eddric moved behind, long limbs flexing unnaturally to navigate fissures and ash fields.
Ahead, the terrain opened into a vast basin, a pit of fire and molten rock, glowing orange-red, suffused with heat that pressed against their bodies like a living weight. Liora's eyes glimmered with tension. "The Fire Pits," she hissed. "Here dwell demons of gluttony and envy. They are relentless, cunning, and insatiable. The Circle feeds them, and they feed on others. Watch your instincts… and control your hunger."
Thomas flexed his claws, molten veins flaring slightly. He had survived falls, hunts, and visions of the past—but the Fire Pits promised a challenge unlike any before. Strength and instinct alone would not suffice. Strategy, observation, and patience would decide who survived.
From the molten haze, shapes emerged—twisted, grotesque, and hungry. The gluttonous demons were immense, bodies bloated and mottled, jaws opening impossibly wide, molten saliva dripping onto obsidian rock. Each step shook the ground, hot air hissing as molten veins pulsed across their bodies. Envy moved differently—slender, wiry, eyes burning green, constantly assessing, imitating, and anticipating. They stalked the edge of the pits, mimicking movements, waiting for weakness, waiting for hunger to cloud judgment.
"Observe first," Liora whispered. "Gluttony strikes with overwhelming force and appetite. Envy strikes with precision and cunning. Together, they test hunger and instinct, and they exploit hesitation."
Thomas's claws flexed. "Then we strike wisely," he muttered.
The first encounter came quickly. A glutton lunged from the molten edge, jaws snapping, molten flesh dripping onto the obsidian below. Thomas leapt sideways, claws digging into rock as molten energy surged along his arms. The beast's momentum carried it past him, its enormous bulk striking a spire and sending shards scattering across the floor.
"Cooperate!" Liora hissed, wrapping around the creature's leg. Eddric struck from behind, limbs extending unnaturally to deliver crushing blows. The glutton roared, staggering, but it did not fall. Hunger drove it, an insatiable force that seemed to ignore pain, ignoring damage.
Thomas realized with grim understanding: brute force would not kill this demon. It required strategy, timing, and exploitation of openings. He flexed his claws, veins burning bright, and struck precisely at a molten vein running along its torso. The creature howled, stumbling slightly, and Liora coiled tighter, restraining it just enough to prevent escape.
From the shadows, envy struck. A lithe, wiry demon lunged, claws glinting with molten green energy, mimicking Thomas's movements, anticipating his strikes. Every attack Thomas attempted was met with mirrored precision. He realized the danger immediately: envy did not attack for strength—it attacked to exploit hesitation, to manipulate instinct, to break control.
"Predict… force…" Eddric muttered. "Envy reacts to your instinct. Anticipate their mimicry, and you can turn it against them."
Thomas focused, letting the memory of the first hunt guide him. He feigned hesitation, baiting the envy demon, then struck in an unexpected angle, molten claws raking across its side. The demon hissed, recoiling slightly. Pride and instinct combined—observation and strategy prevailed.
The fight intensified. The glutton surged repeatedly, each attack driven by insatiable hunger. The envy demon circled, striking where Thomas had reacted before, forcing him to adapt constantly. Molten veins flared with every movement, claws cutting through jagged rock and molten flesh alike. Sweat—or its molten equivalent—dripped into fissures, steam rising in hissing clouds.
"Do not tire!" Liora hissed. "Do not falter! Hunger can be weapon… or weakness. Control it."
Thomas flexed his claws, pulling energy from the Circle's ambient heat, harnessing the instinctive hunger that pulsed through him. He struck with precision, exploiting an opening when the glutton lunged too far, coiling around it to restrict its movement. Eddric's limbs delivered a calculated strike, knocking the creature into the molten edge, where it writhed and screamed.
Envy, seeing its companion falter, hesitated briefly. Thomas used the moment, claws slashing across its torso, veins burning bright. The demon convulsed, recoiling from the blow, and for a heartbeat, the battlefield was theirs.
But victory was partial. The glutton writhed, molten veins pulsing, feeding on the heat and energy of the environment to heal itself. Envy leapt back, circling, eyes burning with anticipation. The Fire Pits were not a place of single victory—they were endurance, hunger, and observation made flesh.
Thomas exhaled heavily, molten veins dimming slightly, claws still flexing in readiness. "We survive… we learn," he muttered, voice rough and alien.
Liora coiled beside him, eyes gleaming. "Yes. You have learned more than strength today. You have learned patience, observation, and control of instinct. The Circle watches how you endure, not just how you strike."
Eddric crouched, examining the retreating forms of glutton and envy. "Do not assume they are defeated. They will recover, adapt, and strike again. Survival here requires constant vigilance and awareness."
Thomas looked out across the molten basin, the rivers glowing orange-red, obsidian spires casting flickering shadows. Every movement, every breath, every pulse of hunger was a test, a reminder of the Circle's reach, of Malrik's dominance, and of the dangers that lay ahead.
He flexed his claws again, molten veins flaring bright. Hunger pulsed within him, instinct surged, and fragments of humanity whispered faintly, testing his resolve. The Fire Pits had taught him that survival demanded more than brute strength: observation, strategy, and control of instinct were as vital as claws or molten power.
"Tomorrow," Thomas said finally, voice rough and alien, "we venture further. We endure, we survive, and we learn. Nothing will break us—not the glutton, not envy, not the Circle itself."
Liora hissed softly, approving. "Good. The Fire Pits teach endurance, hunger, and instinct. Remember it well. The Circle tests everything, and nothing here is wasted. Each lesson shapes you for what is to come."
Thomas gazed toward the distant Circle of Runes, glowing green in the molten haze. The Fire Pits had been brutal, relentless, and unforgiving—but he had survived. And in hell, survival was the first step toward mastery.