In the dark-red world, a massive flock of scarlet Flamebirds tore across the sky at top speed.
On the backs of the lead birds, a few figures sat like they were out for a Sunday ride.
One person per mount was absurdly comfortable.
A Flamebird's back was wide enough that sitting was optional—you could practically lie down and take a nap if you wanted. And they were fast. Sure, Ethan's telekinetic flight could leave them in the dust, but that was only because Ethan's "knife-surfing" speed was downright stupid.
Compared to Flint and the others, though? Flamebirds were on a completely different level.
Led by the Flamebird leader, Ethan's group quickly found what they were looking for.
A huge gathering of Infernals.
They'd built on a wide, flat plain with an open line of sight in every direction. The ground was still red rock, but the temperature here was noticeably lower than where they'd entered—probably because it was farther from the magma river.
