I may have been a tad overconfident.

Swimming to the top of the pool of slag, I breached the surface. Unlike normal liquid, this stuff was thick. I had to wipe my face clean to allow myself a deep breath of fresh air.

As I took a few breaths, I groaned at the sight of a half miss hand. And the half that wasn’t missing was charred bone and flesh.

“Can’t adapt fast enough,” I complained at myself, though I barely understood my own voice. I sounded like my jaw wasn’t even properly moving. It likely wasn’t.

Swimming through the molten slag, I didn’t like how far I had to swim until I found solid earth. It had taken far too long.

I climbed up onto the solid ground, pulling myself out of the molten slag. The gunk rolled off my back and body slowly, as if it didn’t want to let me go.

Coughing, I looked around for the monarch. My enemy was nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been for some time. A few feathers were nearby, sticking out of the huge pool of slag…

“Lake more like,” I grumbled and admitted. It was not a pool of slag it was a genuine lake. Was this the whole mountain maybe? It looked like it. The bright red lake of slake, smoking and sizzling loudly, had hundreds of feathers scattered throughout it. Some stuck out far, others barely visible amongst the slag. None were burning though, even though there were plenty of rocks that were. Giant boulders, from the crumbling and molten mountain, were blazing with flame. Black flame.

Looking away from the lake of slag, I scanned the area. There were other mountains nearby, but they were distant. There was a small drop nearby, and it made me feel like I was now standing on top of a caldera of some kind. As if this was now a volcano.

Yet still no monarch… where was he…?

Squinting through the heat and smoke, from the burning mountain all around me, I finally found the pink bird. Or at least, what I assumed was the creature.

Far off in the distance, flying away; was a small speck. One too distant to be as big as it was, with great wings.

“Fleeing?” I wandered. Surely not, right?

Monarchs usually didn’t just run away like that. Not right away. Not without great pain and effort.

But maybe I had hurt it enough. I had kind of felt like I had been getting manhandled there for a bit. It had kept attacking me with that burst of hot air and breath. It always ended up with me stuck in a pool of molten slag. The thing hadn’t wanted to fight up close, not after realizing I could hurt it.

Honestly I had only gotten a few good blows in. I had crushed a leg. Almost tore off a wing. Broke the thing’s beak. Yet I knew if I didn’t pursue it quickly enough those wounds would, and will, heal. They didn’t heal anywhere near as fast as I did, but they did heal. Even from mortal wounds, sometimes, if given enough time.

Coughing up some gunk, I suddenly felt light headed… and then as I tried to take a step away, as to follow the monarch, I fell over.

Fell over and passed out.

All I remembered was landing in the molten slag again.

Then I woke up, in a cold cave.

Shifting, I groaned as I felt the hardened earth all around me.

“Come on!” I shouted angrily at myself. I can’t believe I just passed out!

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

And it might have been for some time too! I was stuck in the slag. Hardened stuff. Cold stuff. Too cold.

Shifting, I felt the now hardened slag break as I moved. I quickly got my arms and hands under me, and pushed upward. My back broke through, and there was a rush of cold air as I popped out of the hardened slag and out into the world.

I hadn’t been buried too deeply, at least.

Groaning as I stood up slowly, I sighed out cold air. The type of cold air that was common to find at night time, and when up high on a mountain.

Yet not common here near that monarch.

Glancing around, I sighed as I realized I’d likely been asleep for a good amount of time. Long enough not just for the lake of slag to cool and harden, but for the environment to slightly return to its normal condition.

The night sky was glimmering with stars, and thanks to their brightness I could make out plenty of clouds. Dark, thick clouds. And there was now a wind, a cold one.

“Shit,” I complained.

The monarch was gone. It really had fled.

You had to be kidding me!

Growing warm again, from anger, I stepped away from the hole I had just emerged from. I walked over to a dark edge of the area and glanced down.

Yes. I was still on a mountain. Though not as high up as I had been before. Odds are half the mountain had been melted and destroyed in our battle.

Just great. That monarch was strong. Too strong. Its heat alone that it expelled was disastrous, and it had the strength and size to match in lethality to its heat.

Add that to it obviously being a very intelligent creature…

“I wonder which god had created it,” I wondered as I studied a nearby mountain. It was rather close, and the side facing me was gleaming and reflecting. As if it was layered with ice. Odds are it wasn’t ice, but instead some kind of slag similar to the stuff I had just gotten stuck in. Though more reflective, thanks to having hardened and formed at an angle.

I wonder if anything will grow here anymore? How difficult would it be for plants and trees to take roots in such hardened slag? Hopefully this area wasn’t completely useless.

Still…

Looking down at my naked body, I noted the healed skin. I was undamaged now. It’d been long enough that all the injuries had long since healed.

Like usually my body was as much a rule breaker as the gods and their pets.

“A firstborn maybe,” I wondered. Its ability, that heat, was overwhelming. I’d faced monarchs and gods that used fire, or heat, abilities before. But I couldn’t remember any that fierce. It had genuinely melted an entire mountain into a pool of molten slag. Just how hot was that? To do it quickly, too, and not over time?

Only firstborn monarchs were that strong. And even then only a small portion of those had been capable of fighting me off with any real success.

I had even passed out from the injuries. I had endured too much damage too quickly. I had healed too much, for too long.

When was the last time I’d done that? To pass out from mere injury?

The last time had been that god. The one I had found under that ocean.

“Now I need to track this one down again…” I mumbled with a sigh.

Some movement drew my attention nearby, and I frowned at the sight until I realized it wasn’t some weird tree but one of the monarch’s feathers.

There were many of them sticking out of the hardened slag, looking like deformed trees as they fluttered in the wind.

Stepping up to the feather, I reached out and grabbed it. The thing was strangely soft. It bent and moved easily, yet didn’t seem to be fragile. I could tell, and knew from experience, that it’d take a lot of force to snap or bend the feather completely enough to break it.

The feather actually felt rather soft. Even though it was obviously damaged. Some parts of it were frayed, though not from heat or fire.

They hadn’t burnt even in such intense heat, or molten slag… maybe I should gather some of them up. Their heat resistance was valuable beyond measure.

I sighed and decided to do so. The monarch was gone. I couldn’t sense it. And it had likely fled quite a distance. At that things size, and ability, it could have even fled to the ends of the world. I may not find it again without first hearing rumors about a sudden heat wave that was killing the birds out of the sky as they flew. That was how I had heard of this place originally.

Pulling the feathers out of the now solid ground, I huffed as I collected several dozen. I wasn’t sure yet what I’d use them for, but I knew eventually I’d find a use.

“Maybe a set of clothes,” I mumbled. They actually felt rather soft. They’d probably make a great bed too or maybe even a blanket.

Amused at the idea, I sneezed as one of the feathers brushed against my nose.