The heat was becoming increasingly concerning, rising rapidly toward an unbearable level, though it hadn't quite reached that threshold yet. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that it soon would.
The most troubling aspect was his powerlessness in the situation; all he could do was press on and hope it wouldn't turn fatal or deadly—though that were just hopes and dreams, and in the trials hope is a flimsy thing and dreams are nightmares given colourful frames.
As El continued to crawl through the constricting space, sweat streamed from him like a leaking drain. The escalating heat made his skin flush and hot, even with his essence working to bolster his resilience, a feature he possessed that was now superior to that of the residents of Troy.
The relief it provided was all but minimal. The sweltering heat only intensified with passing time as he moved inwards, amplifying his discomfort and suffering.
As he moved forward, he began to experience the gnawing effects of dehydration; his throat felt parched, fatigue threatened to engulf him, yet he temporarily resisted its pull, aided by the essence coursing through his veins that clung to his muscles. This allowed him to press on a little longer, albeit it was insufficient to liberate him from the heat's torment.
The combination of rising temperatures and the aftereffects of the gas—temporary blindness, extreme itching, and throat irritation now worsened by dehydration—left him feeling like a walking corpse, quite literally.
But he knew stopping was tantamount to death, but he grappled with a grim uncertainty: which was more lethal, remaining still with false hope or continuing into the increasing heat.
Well obviously remaining still was undoubtedly the worse choice.
With his elbows braced against the oppressive warmth, he attempted to dismiss the discomfort entirely, but that was a futile endeavor.
As he navigated past a jagged section that had been crudely rejoined, he encountered what he termed
"secondary heat wave."
This wave engulfed the parts of him that crossed the threshold—his head, hands, and part of his back—instantly alerting him to the stark temperature difference that made him halt, hesitant to take another crawl into it.
As unlike the starting heat he felt which was like a oven,this was like the surface of the red dwarf of Troy, it was not heat he was feeling at that moment; it was a cooling sensation of death
The profuse sweat that had threatened to fill a small pool evaporated in an instant. If not for his essence, he might have succumbed entirely.
His skin was growing uncharacteristically pale, breaths becoming nearly non-existent, and he could feel, unnervingly so, that he was on the brink of death; his essence struggled to keep pace while his body began to falter. Still, he pushed on—now was not the time to relent.
The relentless heat slammed against him once more as he finally crossed the threshold, his muscles spasming in protest, his insides feeling like they were boiling.
Just as he was on the verge of losing consciousness, he sensed it—a faint opening ahead that diverged from the oppressive heat surrounding him. Despite the relentless barrage, the instinctive awareness remained,allowing him this newfound hope—a flimsy hope, but hope nonetheless.
Gathering all his strength, he took a deep, fortifying breath and pressed forward, feeling the skin peel from his elbows with every inch he crawled, yet he did not yield.
With each anguished spasm of his muscles, he seemed to defy his limits.His thoughts were consumed only by the opening just ahead, the rest of the world fading from his mind. He was operating on pure instinct, his consciousness fading as he drew nearer to the passage.
And as if rewarding his perseverance, the oppressive heat lessened dramatically, becoming even milder than the initial heat he had endured.
This sudden drop prompted him to halt his crawl, granting him a moment of sweet relief; the strain in his muscles eased, and his body began to sweat, the moisture evaporating into a cooling sensation that sent goosebumps across his skin.
His previous dulled senses sharpened at once, but he still felt a profound weakness, on the verge of drifting off to sleep. Shaking off the lethargy, he pressed onward toward the opening, only a few meters away.
With renewed clarity granted by his keen senses, he was able to do a quick scan of the inside of the opening which was a cave, noticing a source of steam emanating from within. Conclusions formed in his mind, yet he held them back, knowing he would soon discover the truth for himself.
As he finally crawled out of the passage, he tumbled from the cave wall's height, landing with a minor thud on the ground below. Though the fall had caused him little harm, he remained sprawled out on the cave floor, conducting another brief survey of the area. Finding no signs of life, he allowed himself to succumb to sleep almost immediately. The lingering effects of heat and gas still clung to him, demanding rest, and thus he seized the moment without hesitation.
---+---
When El awoke, his heightened senses activated before his eyes had even opened, taking in the surroundings and noting there had been no changes since his last moment of consciousness.
Relaxed, he opened his eyes and sat up. The dimness of the cave made it difficult to gauge how much time had passed, but it was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things for him.
Rising to his feet, he surveyed the cave with his own eyes for the first time, no longer relying on his advanced senses. There, he identified the source of the steam: a hot spring, confirming his deduction. Its presence suggested proximity to a volcano, which helped explain the intense torture of heat he had suffered — this mountain was indeed volcanic.
Such revelation hardly shocked him; at this point, little could astonish him. Even if he were told he had to leap into the heart of the volcano to escape this time plate,that... would be concerning and insane,but hopefully it would just be to kill a creature like the hybrid which was equally disturbing.
Hunger gnawed at him, and he knew he couldn't afford to go without nourishment until the next day. The injuries he had sustained from the burns were healing, yet they still left behind scars. It had taken significant essence energy to enhance his natural healing capabilities, closing the wounds. Yet, his full recovery remained distant, meaning his essence was still being drained at an alarming rate.
Currently, his reserves were low, indicating he would need to use a runestone soon.
A phantom headache was creeped in.
Just looking at the hot spring sent shivers through his body, the sight resurrecting memories of pain from his previous encounter.
As he walked away, thoughts whirled in his head. Though he had mostly healed, he recognized that he needed to be in peak condition to fend for himself, and even then, survival was not even guaranteed dully.
Silence enveloped him as he contemplated the impending hunt, a task that would soon demand his full strength. He knew he needed to conserve his energy; a fight required nothing less than total vigor.
With that thought in mind, he walked towards the corner where he had previously collapsed into slumber. Settling down, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the call of the sandman. Not long after, he succumbed to its embrace, fully intent on resting and recovering—preparing for the hunt that would ultimately quell his ravenous hunger.
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