The Obsidian Magma Wyrm was an apex hunting beast born during the chaotic cooling of the mortal plane.
Its three-thousand-foot snake-like body was armored in overlapping earth-shaking scales of ancient fiery black glass, each plate hardened by thousand years of mantle pressure to a thickness exceeding Saint-grade soul steel.
Its gaping maw plunged toward Shen Shitou. Then, the air in the trench tightly packed into a sonic boom that crushed the surrounding granite shelves into fine sand.
Fifty million tons of raw, moving bite force clamped down toward Shitou’s exposed neck.
Down in the crust-sink trench, Shen Shitou didn’t flinch, but his shoulders instinctively tensed, preparing to absorb the full weight of the beast into his silver-steel collarbones.
From the ledge sixty feet above, Frank leaned over the safety railing, his yellow hard hat tilted back on his head.
“Shitou!” Frank yelled through the bone-heat flow comms, his voice sharp with annoyance. “What are you doing?! Stop acting like a rubber shock absorber!”
Shen Shitou blinked, his hands pausing inches from the dropping fangs. “Master?”
