Warlock of Oceans: My Poseidon System

Jesua let out a short laugh, cutting him off. "Trusted me? Spare me the righteous act, Sylus. You didn't trust me; you tolerated me because you had no other choice. And guess what? You still don't have a choice. Athena's life—and her soul—are hanging by a thread, and you need me if you want any hope of getting her back." Cyrus's energy faltered, the tension in his body waning as her words began to sink in. He hated to admit it, but she was right. Their anger wouldn't change anything. Sylus exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Fine," he said, his voice tight with reluctant acceptance. "But if you're playing us, Jesua, I swear—" Jesua cut him off again with a raised hand. "Save the threats, Sylus. I've heard better from toddlers. Now, if we're done pointing fingers, let's focus on the real problem. Athena is in their hands, and every second we waste here is a second closer to losing her for good." The room was silent, thick with frustration and implied tension, but neither Cyrus nor Sylus could deny the truth in her words. With a deep breath, they both nodded, their anger simmering but contained, their focus shifting back to the task at hand. The swan maiden queen, her massive emerald-encrusted wings shimmering faintly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the jungle canopy, led Jesua, Sylus, and Cyrus through the winding paths of the jungle town. Her once-regal bearing was tempered by a glum expression, and her voice carried a weight of caution as she spoke. "This is as far as I can take you," she said, her melodic tone tinged with unease as they approached a jagged stone archway. The entrance to the fifth floor loomed before them, dark and uninviting. Vines dangled limply over the entrance, and faint streams of sulfurous air wafted out, carrying with them the oppressive heat of the level below. The queen turned to face them, her green eyes serious. "The fifth floor is unlike the others. It's not a world where reason holds sway. What lies ahead is an inferno, teeming with intelligent creatures who have no desire for peace. The lava lizardmen will attack on sight, and they are relentless in their hostility. Negotiation is not an option. Mercy will not be given. You must be prepared to fight the moment you step through that arch." Cyrus frowned, gripping the hilt of his aetheric sword tightly. "Lava lizardmen? How intelligent are we talking?" "More than you'd expect," the queen said. "They are cunning hunters and masters of their volcanic environment. They'll use the terrain against you—lava flows, heat traps, ambushes. Their intelligence is matched only by their aggression. Be prepared for coordinated attacks, not random strikes." Sylus nodded grimly, his gaze narrowing as he considered her words. "What about their weaknesses? Are they vulnerable to cold magic or anything specific?" The queen tilted her head, her black-and-emerald tattoos shifting like living patterns across her skin. "Their hide is tough, resistant to most weapons and elements, but extreme cold can weaken them. However, they are always prepared for such tactics, so don't rely solely on that strategy. Adaptability will be your ally." Jesua, standing slightly apart from the group, ran a hand through her ebony hair. "Sounds like my kind of party," she said with a faint smirk, though her gaze was sharp. "Anything else we should know? Any lovely surprises waiting to boil us alive?" The queen's wings rustled faintly as she shook her head. "Just this: do not underestimate them. They are not mindless beasts. Their warriors are trained, and their leaders are strategists. The deeper you go, the more dangerous it will become. Their chieftain rules with an iron claw, and if you encounter him…" She hesitated. "Pray it does not come to that." Cyrus exchanged a glance with Sylus, his unease evident. "Well, that's reassuring," he muttered under his breath. The queen ignored his sarcasm and stepped aside, gesturing to the entrance. "I wish you luck. May the spirits guide you, for this is a place where only the strongest survive." Jesua, already striding toward the archway, glanced back over her shoulder. "Luck's overrated," she said with a grin. "We've got something better: desperation." She paused, her expression darkening slightly. "And a damn good reason to win." Sylus and Cyrus followed, their weapons ready as they crossed the threshold into the unknown, the heat of the fifth floor hitting them like a wave. The queen watched them go, her expression unreadable, before turning back toward her jungle kingdom, leaving them to face the hostile, molten hell awaiting them. As Cyrus, Sylus, and Jesua stepped through the jagged stone archway, the oppressive heat enveloped them instantly, thick and suffocating. A single blink later, the jungle world behind them vanished, replaced by an immense dome-like cavern bathed in hues of fiery orange and red. The sheer scale of the space was staggering, its arched ceiling glowing faintly with molten veins of magma that branched out like the roots of an ancient tree. Every surface shimmered with the glow of flowing lava that snaked through trenches carved into the rocky floor, casting an eerie, flickering light that played across the cavern's walls. The ground beneath their feet was a mix of scorched black stone and ashen gray patches, riddled with cracks that oozed molten rivulets. Despite the heat, paths had been deliberately carved and smoothed, forming streets and walkways that spiraled outward in intricate patterns. Pools of lava bubbled in craters, releasing occasional plumes of smoke and steam that filled the air with a sharp, acrid tang. Towering structures of volcanic rock and obsidian dotted the area, shaped into homes and fortresses. These buildings appeared haphazard yet strangely elegant, with jagged edges and molten adornments, some glowing faintly as if the stone itself had been alive with heat. Massive arches, bridges, and towers rose precariously above the lava rivers, connected by narrow walkways made of cooled basalt. In the distance, a massive ziggurat of blackened stone loomed, its edges glowing faintly from the magma streams that poured from its sides like fiery waterfalls. It dominated the dome, a clear centerpiece of this molten civilization. Along its tiers, small figures could be seen moving purposefully, their dark forms silhouetted against the brilliant backdrop of fire. "Gods above," Sylus muttered, his voice low and tense as his eyes swept the alien landscape. "This isn't just a place; it's a whole city. They've built all of this out of lava and stone." Jesua tilted her head, her expression one of curiosity more than concern. "Impressive handiwork," she mused, her voice laced with a faint amusement. "Though it does scream 'hostile locals.'" Cyrus was already gripping his aetheric sword tightly, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings. "Yeah, no kidding. I can feel their eyes on us." Indeed, the air was heavy not just with heat but with a palpable tension, as if hundreds of unseen eyes were watching their every move. The faint sound of guttural growls and hissing whispers reached their ears, carried on the waves of heat and steam. Occasionally, shadowy figures darted between the buildings, just beyond their line of sight. "Stay close," Sylus said, his voice firm as he shifted his stance and glanced toward Jesua. "You might've gotten us into this, but you're not getting out of it alone." Jesua smirked but said nothing, her sharp gaze lingering on the ziggurat in the distance. "Let's see what kind of welcome these lava lizardmen roll out for us," she said, stepping forward confidently despite the sweltering heat. Cyrus and Sylus followed closely, their weapons at the ready, their eyes darting to every shadow and flicker of movement. Each step took them deeper into this living furnace, the civilization of molten rock pulsing and breathing around them like a slumbering beast waiting to strike. The moment the trio's presence was noticed, the oppressive silence of the molten city shattered. A chorus of guttural hisses echoed through the dome, followed by the sudden rustling of sharp claws on stone. Before they could react, streaks of fiery red zipped through the air with impossible speed, landing before them in a graceful but intimidating display. The lava lizardmen were unlike anything Cyrus, Sylus, or Jesua had ever seen. Standing at nearly eight feet tall, their forms were a hybrid of sleek reptilian grace and molten fury. Their skin glistened like polished obsidian, streaked with glowing orange veins that pulsed in rhythm with their movements, as though magma coursed through their bodies. Their heads were elongated, their sharp, angular features framed by fiery crests that flared like living flames. Their eyes burned like molten gold, piercing and unblinking, exuding intelligence and predatory intent. Sharp fangs glinted in their snarling mouths, and their forked tongues flicked out periodically, tasting the searing air. Their muscular bodies were adorned with natural armor, scales overlapping like plates of volcanic rock, reinforced with glowing cracks that seemed to act as vents for their internal heat. Clawed hands and feet dug into the ground with effortless strength, each digit tipped with razor-sharp obsidian talons. On their backs, jagged, spiked ridges ran down their spines, flickering with a dull, fiery light. Some of the lizardmen carried crude but deadly weapons—spears and swords carved from solid obsidian and tipped with molten edges that shimmered menacingly in the ambient light. One lizardman, larger and more imposing than the rest, stepped forward. His eyes were a blazing inferno, and his tail flicked behind him, leaving scorch marks on the ground. With a low hiss, he leaned forward, his glowing nostrils flaring as he inspected the trio. The heat radiating from his body was intense, causing the air around him to ripple. Jesua remained unnervingly calm, tilting her head slightly, her sharp gaze locked onto the leader. "Well, aren't you all just a charming welcoming committee," she remarked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Sylus, his sword still drawn, tightened his grip, his body tensed to move at a moment's notice. He muttered under his breath, "I think charming isn't quite the word I'd use." Cyrus, meanwhile, was frozen, his eyes darting between the sharp talons and molten weapons, his instincts screaming at him to be ready. "Uh… do we say something, or do they go first?" The leader's molten eyes bore into Jesua, the corners of his mouth curling into a menacing snarl. He took another step closer, his claws tapping against the stone ground. The heat around them surged, and the trio could feel the air grow heavier, almost suffocating. Jesua smirked. "Looks like we're the ones under inspection. Try not to look too nervous, boys," she said casually, though the molten gaze of the lizardman never wavered.