The Ash Pit is not a mere geographical location. It is a wound on the face of the world. As we approach, the air becomes hot, dry, thick with the smell of sulfur and coal. The ground beneath our feet is a crust of cracked black ash, and glowing fissures from which searing vapor escapes crisscross the landscape like veins of lava. It is a hellscape, a foretaste of the volcanic heart that awaits us.
The company establishes a fortified base camp at the edge of the most active zone, several kilometers from the presumed lair of the Saurian King. The discipline of the Iron Claw is impressive. Within hours, a palisade is erected, tents are pitched, and makeshift watchtowers are set up. It is a well-oiled war machine.
My role, as Lyanna predicted, is that of the sacrificial scout. Kaelen assigns me the first reconnaissance mission. Alone.
"You'll follow the lava river to the east," he orders, his finger tracing a line on the map. "The Saurians need heat. Their main nest must be near the source. Map the terrain, identify their patrols, find their weak points. And most importantly, do not get spotted. If you draw a horde to the camp before we're ready, I will throw you into the lava myself."
It is a perfect mission for me. I accept with a simple nod.
Before I leave, Lyanna intercepts me. She hands me a small, smooth, bluish stone.
"It's a communication stone," she says. "It's linked to the one I'm keeping. If you're in imminent danger, break it. I won't be able to teleport you, but I'll know where you are and might be able to send help." She looks at me intently. "Only use it if it's a matter of life and death. It's single-use."
"I won't need it," I reply, but I take the stone. The mere fact that she trusts me enough to entrust me with this object has meaning.
I leave the camp and melt into the ashen landscape. The air is so hot it burns the lungs. The ruddy glow of the nearby lava casts long, dancing shadows, an ideal playground for my Camouflage.
The Ash Saurians are magnificent and terrifying creatures. They are bipedal lizards, the size of a man, covered in thick scales that resemble cracked obsidian, with veins of glowing magma pulsing beneath their skin. They are armed with vicious claws and spears carved from volcanic rock.
Analyze.
Name: Ash Saurian Warrior
Level: 11
Status: Patrolling
Skills:
[Volcanic Hide (Passive)]: High resistance to fire and physical attacks.
[Furious Charge (Active)]: A straight-line charge that is difficult to stop.
Weaknesses: Cold, Unscaled areas under the chin and at the joints.
Essence: Elemental (Fire/Earth), Fierce. High absorption potential. High chance of strengthening Strength and fire resistance.
Level 11. They are far more powerful than the basic mercenaries of the Iron Claw. I understand why Kaelen is so cautious.
I do not engage them. I am a shadow. I watch them, noting their patrol routes, the number of individuals in each group. I mentally map the terrain, identifying narrow passes, overhangs, areas where the ground is unstable. I am the knife probing the flaws in the enemy's armor before striking.
After several hours of reconnaissance, I find what I was looking for. The heart of their territory. It is a half-collapsed volcano, a massive caldera in the center of which a lake of lava bubbles. In the middle of the lake, on an island of black rock, stands a kind of primitive fortress, built of basalt and the bones of unknown creatures. Hundreds of Saurians swarm on the island and on the stone bridges connecting it to the caldera's edge.
And at the top of the fortress, I see him. The Saurian King.
He is colossal. Easily three times the size of a normal warrior. His scales are not black, but an incandescent red, as if he himself were made of solidified lava. a crown of calcified bone rests on his massive head, and he holds a gigantic war maul that seems to be made of the same material as his fortress. He does not move. He sits on a stone throne, dominating his kingdom of fire, a statue of raw power.
Even from this distance, I feel his aura. It is a suffocating heat, a pressure that makes the air vibrate.
I don't even try to analyze him. He is too far away, and his level must be so high that he is likely beyond my reach, like King Alistair.
My goal is not to kill him. Not now. My goal is to understand.
I spend the rest of the day observing, hidden in a crevice overlooking the caldera. I watch their rituals, the way they throw offerings into the lava lake. I see their social structure, the dominant warriors who lead the weaker ones. It is a primitive, but organized society.
It is while observing the edges of the lava lake that I notice something strange. In a small cove, away from the hustle and bustle, a Saurian, smaller and with paler scales, is performing some kind of solitary ritual. She traces complex symbols in the ash with a claw, then places a Saurian egg, of an unusually bright color, in the center.
Intrigued, I focus on her. Analyze.
Name: Sh'raz, Saurian Shaman
Level: 15
Status: Performing an Incubation Ritual.
A shaman. This is the first time I have seen a Saurian that is not a warrior. She is manipulating a form of primitive magic, a magic of fire and earth.
The egg she is tending... it pulses with an immense energy. Far more than the other Saurians. It is a royal egg. The heir to the Saurian King.
An idea forms in my mind. A terrible, cruel, but devastatingly effective idea.
The strength of the Iron Claw will never be enough to storm this fortress. They will be slaughtered. To reach the King, they need a diversion. A diversion that will shake Saurian society to its foundations.
I must steal the egg.
The plan is insane. I will have to approach the lava lake, under the eyes of hundreds of sentinels, and steal the most precious object of their culture from a Level 15 shaman.
But it is the kind of gamble that can change everything.
I return to the Iron Claw camp after nightfall. Kaelen and Lyanna are waiting for me in the command tent. I give them my report. I describe the terrain, the strength of the Saurians, their numbers, the fortress on the lava lake.
"A frontal assault is suicide," I conclude.
"You think I don't know that, kid?" Kaelen grunts. "That's why we're here. To find a solution. Did you find a weakness?"
"I found something better," I say. "I found a lever."
I explain my plan to them. To steal the royal egg to create chaos, to lure the King and his elite guard out of their fortress, into an ambush we can set for them.
Kaelen listens, his expression shifting from contempt to intense concentration. He strokes his beard. It is a bold, almost crazy plan. But it is a plan.
"The theft of the egg..." he says. "You will be the one to do it. No one else has the necessary stealth."
"I know," I reply.
"It's a one-way mission," Lyanna adds, her face grave. "The shaman is Level 15. If she spots you, she will kill you in a second."
"She won't spot me," I say, my voice full of a confidence I am far from feeling.
Kaelen looks at me, his icy eyes seeming to probe my soul. "If you succeed, kid... if you bring us that egg... you'll get more than just your pay. You'll have my gratitude. And the gratitude of the Iron Claw is worth more than gold."
It is the first time he has shown me an ounce of respect.
The decision is made. Tomorrow night, under the cover of darkness, I will return to the heart of hell. I will not be a mere scout.
I will be a thief. And my target is the future of a kingdom.