Tartarus was no longer just an abyss. It had become a living furnace, a space where reality itself bent beneath the crushing heat and overwhelming intensity. Every step we took drew us closer to the roots of the world, where the very fabric of existence was hammered and stretched by forces too ancient to be named. The black, molten rock shifted beneath the invisible pressure of Tartarus, as if the ground itself breathed, keeping rhythm with a colossal, ancient heart.
Siegfried walked ahead of me, his ether-silver chains trailing across the incandescent floor, producing deep vibrations that resonated through my obsidian hands and along my bones. His single eye glimmered with a calm but piercing light, capable of slicing through the thickest layers of Tartarus, like a blade cutting the night. He measured every step, every breath, every pulse of the crimson lycoris beating in my chest.
— We are approaching the foundation, he said at last, his voice deposited directly into my mind. The heart of Tartarus beats down there, under kilometers of rock and fire. The heat will become nearly unbearable.
The red lycoris pulsed stronger, as if sensing the proximity of the temporal forces buried in the depths. Each beat projected shards of light across my black glass limbs, illuminating the steam rising from the floor and enveloping our passage like a veil of liquid flames.
— Jormund… he continued, be ready. The foundation is not just hot. It is conscious. It tests. It judges. Everything that descends this far is examined… and everything that falters is dissolved.
I nodded slowly. I knew this descent was not merely physical. It was mental, spiritual. Tartarus did not seek to kill us immediately. It wanted to see if we were worthy to touch its roots, if our wills could endure the pressure of a world forged in the fear and violence of the gods.
The heat rose further, a palpable mass that pressed into every pore of my obsidian skin. It was not simple burning, but a methodical force, as if Tartarus sought to melt me, testing the solidity of my form and measuring the intensity of the fire beating in my heart. My breath grew faster, each inhalation a scorching blade through my lungs. I could feel the stone and metal expand under the heat, hear the almost organic cracking of the rock that carried us.
— Do you feel it? I murmured, almost to myself. The stone and the lava… they seem alive.
Siegfried did not respond immediately. Then, in a low tone:
— It is the will of Chronos. Or rather, what he left behind. The fragment you consumed resonates with the roots of this place. The deeper you go, the more it awakens.
I felt the weight of his words mix with the heat. Each step was a challenge. The rock cracked under Tartarus' breath, as if protesting our intrusion. Blue-black flames licked the walls, casting moving shadows across my arms and legs of glass. Each flicker of light emphasized the depth of the chasm, as if Tartarus wanted to show me that the space we traversed was not merely a location, but a rite of passage, a trial.
— I will not retreat, I said, letting the lycoris shine even brighter. The heat may test me. Tartarus may roar. I will descend to its roots… and what awaits there, I will dominate.
Siegfried inclined his head, as if acknowledging the absolute resolve in my eyes.
— Very well. But remember, Jormund. Every step deeper is a step toward fusion with Chronos. The stone, the fire, and time itself will attempt to reshape you. You are no longer just yourself. You become an instrument… or a weapon.
I drew a deep breath. The heat pierced me, but at the center of my chest, the crimson lycoris burned like an untamable blaze. It was not merely a light. It was a heart, a guide, a promise that I would never yield. Siegfried's chains chimed in rhythm with my heartbeat, as if prison and prisoner merged to provide us a tempo, a discipline imposed by time itself.
We descended further, my obsidian feet sinking into the incandescent sands, climbing slopes of molten black rock, slipping over plates of viscous magma. The walls of Tartarus closed in, compressing our path into a corridor of stone that twisted and breathed like a living being. The breath of magma hissed in my ears, and I thought I heard ancient whispers, fragments of voices long forgotten.
Tartarus groaned around us, but for the first time, I understood that this rumbling was not merely a threat. It was a greeting, a challenge, a call to awaken the will. The vibrations surged through my entire body, resonating in my glass skeleton and in the stone that seemed eager to consume me. Every tremor, every shiver of rock, revealed that the descent was not only toward the center but a battle between my will and the will of the world itself.
— Here… Siegfried began, over there, the heat becomes… obstinate. If you feel your lycoris falter, remember: it cannot die. It is you.
I clenched my fists, feeling the red light pulse in resonance with every vibration of Tartarus. Far below, the stone seemed to change color, approaching absolute black, almost liquid, each crevice containing fragments of time itself. I heard cracks, low rumbles, as if Tartarus bent to test the strength of our minds as much as our bodies.
The magma's breath whipped my face, but I felt neither fear nor fatigue. I felt only a purpose: to reach the foundations, touch what Chronos left behind, and understand what I was meant to become. Every step was a trial, every breath an act of defiance, every pulse of lycoris reminded me that my will was stronger than stone and fire.
Siegfried followed a few steps behind, still but watchful, like a silent guide. He did not direct me. He observed, measured my reactions, ready to intervene if Tartarus decided I was unworthy. But I knew no one here could protect me from myself. The true trial was internal: the struggle between my human nature and the devouring power of Chronos.
The ground narrowed further, and the heat reached a level where each breath burned like fire. Steam rose in poisonous clouds, and I thought I heard the whispers of time itself, ancient voices attempting to convince me to turn back. But the lycoris pulsed, each beat a scream of defiance, a silent warning: I would not yield.
We were no longer merely descending an abyss. We were descending into time itself, toward a heart of power that would transform a fragment of stone and glass into the last of the giants, a Jötunn capable of challenging even the gods. And as the heat became nearly unbearable, as Tartarus seemed determined to swallow us and dissolve me, I realized that each step, each drop of sweat, each pulse of lycoris brought my will closer to its apex.
I straightened, feeling Tartarus' breath on my neck, the red of my lycoris casting long, bloody reflections on Siegfried's chains. The molten walls flickered in response, a rhythmic dance of light and shadow.
— We are close, Siegfried whispered. The foundation is there. And once we reach it, the true test begins.
I nodded. My body, scorched yet unyielding, braced for the final stage. Chronos' heart awaited, and so did I.