In the dark-red world…
Three days had passed since Ethan and the others entered this pocket world.
In those three days, they'd ridden the Flamebirds like a mobile strike force—splitting Infernal tribes again and again, slaughtering pack after pack, and hauling in crystal cores by the truckload.
The world itself was big, but life was scarce. Aside from the Infernals, they'd only run into the "Redshell beasts" Ember had mentioned three times total—things that looked like a turtle and a pangolin had a messed-up hybrid baby.
They were a nightmare to kill.
Insanely high defense, and they could burrow. Even when Ethan's group jumped them hard, they'd managed to kill fewer than a hundred.
Really drove home a simple truth: anything that was still alive in a place like this had earned it.
Other than those Redshells, they'd basically seen nothing else.
The Infernals, though?
There were plenty.
Millions, easily.
