Lucy's breath came in controlled, steady bursts as she walked deeper into the Death Volcano. Her Volcanic Dragon Claws flickered with heat, still glowing from the last battle.
The corpses of the Necrovauld and Malachor disciples lay scattered behind her, their defeat a testament to her strength. The oppressive heat from the volcano intensified with every step she took, the air shimmering with raw, dangerous energy.
The deeper Lucy ventured, the more the landscape around her changed. Jagged rocks twisted in unnatural shapes, and pools of molten lava bubbled ominously beneath her feet.
"We can't just let her go, can we?" one disciple murmured, his voice trembling as he clutched the hilt of his sword, the tip dragging along the rocky ground.
Another disciple, his face slick with sweat, wiped his brow with a shaky hand. His eyes darted toward the swirling lava below, and he shook his head, defeated. "We've done what we were told," he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.
