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Her piercing eyes glow silver, drilling into the stunned Elder Garzum like a laser.

Through our bond, I know Princesa speaks from the heart. Not her usual clever manipulation, but from the fervent fire of her faith. Her devotion to Arawnoth blazes through her soul, stoking her passion like a raging inferno.

The chamber plunges into silence, the only sound the bubbling, sizzling geyser of magma nearby. The crowd holds its breath, every eye fixed on her.

Garzum steps forward, his trembling hand outstretched. Awe is carved into the lines of his weathered face, his gaze locked onto the radiant blessing scorched into Princesa’s chest.

“How...” he mutters, his scarred, wizened fingers brushing just shy of her glowing skin.

Princesa reacts instantly, slapping his hand away with a sharp rebuke.

“Hands off the divine boobs!” she snaps, shaking her head in disdain. “Every time,” she mutters under her breath.

A few gasps ripple through the crowd, but Garzum seems unfazed, his crimson eyes pulsing faintly as if caught in a trance.

“The cycle burns eternal...” he murmurs, reading the scorched runes, his voice thick with awe.

Slowly, his eyes lift to meet hers, as if awakening from a dream.

“The words... they radiate his heat... Arawnoth himself ... This is what he wishes? This is his will?” he breathes, before collapsing to his knees.

His shoulders shake as pathetic sobs escape him.

Princesa leans closer to me, her voice low but tinged with amusement. “I think I broke him,” she whispers with a short laugh, her eyes glinting mischievously. “I always have this effect on men,” she muses, tilting her head.

I glare at her, unimpressed.

She catches the look and flashes me a disarming smile, her features lighting up her gorgeous, delicate face.

“Not you, of course, Dracoth,” she purrs. “You’re not just a man—you’re my red dragon.”

My lip crooks back at her, overflowing with affection for this strange, maddeningly clever female who’s now mine. Never in my wildest dreams would I have dared to believe I’d find someone like her—beautiful, strong, and relentless. Together, we forge the path to my glorious destiny.

But my reverie is short-lived as Garzum’s pathetic weeping grates on my nerves, filling me with disgust. I glare down at him, my voice hard.

“The Gods have spoken. They bless the future only I can bring.” I turn and gesture sharply to a pair of warriors. “Tend to him,” I command, dismissing the Elder with a flick of my hand.

Two Magaxus warriors step forward and hoist Garzum to his feet, guiding him to sit among the crowd.

All around, the warriors’ faces are awash with awe, their gazes drawn like znats to the blazing runes on Princesa’s skin. Whispers ripple through them like the magma below. “It’s Arawnoth’s will,” some murmur, reverence lacing their tones.

Yet, as I glance at Princesa, a flicker of trepidation stirs within me. I remember her words—her gift . She spoke of a human tradition to demonstrate commitment.

The bigger, the better, she had said with a teasing smile.

The thought gnaws at me. What if she rejects my offering? I force the doubt down, but it lingers—a shadow amidst the blazing light of triumph.

Would she truly turn her back on me if I failed?

With a deep breath, I quell the loathsome fluttering in the pits of my stomach.

“To honor my Mortakin-Kis in the custom of her people!” My voice booms, echoing off the molten caverns. “I gift her this diamond.” Sweeping my arm wide, I gesture to the two Magaxus hunters stationed expectantly at one of the tunnel entrances.

Princesa gasps, peering up at me, her face beaming. “Ack, you shouldn’t have!”

A strange sentiment, considering she demanded the offering. Human females truly are incomprehensible creatures.

A low rumble punctuates the hushed murmurs of the onlookers. The grinding of stone against ancient volcanic rock mingles with the strained grunts of the hunters, who struggle to roll the massive, jagged boulder forward.

My lips curl into a smile at the sheer enormity of my gift. Yes, she cannot fail to be impressed! Elation and confidence swell my heart as the diamond sparkles brilliantly, drawing awe from the crowd.

“Ah... Dracoth,” Princesa mutters, not with joy but with confusion. “Please tell me that’s not supposed to be my ring,” she protests, pointing toward the approaching monolith.

“This diamond is the largest ever extracted, buried for eons deep within the bowels of Scarn,” I proclaim, confidence swelling in my voice. “There is no bigger diamond, no bigger commitment.”

Her beaming expression collapses into a disapproving frown, evaporating my elation like steam on lava. Even the greatest diamond in the universe is not enough to please her?

Infuriating female! She seeks the impossible!

“I asked for a diamond ring , Dracoth!” she snaps, hopping down from my arm, her displeasure cutting deep. “Not my own personal planet ! How am I supposed to—”

I stop listening, my rage bubbling like molten rock, not helped by the hunters continuing to grunt and strain, their feeble muscles bulging uselessly as they try to push the colossal diamond onto the raised stone dais.

Pathetic weaklings!

Snarling, I storm forward, shoving the hunters aside and heaving the massive gem with ease onto the molten rock platform. They collapse, panting and gasping in the steamy air like spent flames.

Rolling the gift toward Princesa, I feel my Rush leaking from my eyes, crimson mist swirling in the lava-lit chamber. Yet her expression only darkens. She crosses her arms beneath her ample breasts, tapping her foot as though I’ve presented her with a sack of vipertails.

“I don’t know why you’re dragging that thing near me,” she sneers, her tone like a lash across my honor. “It’s useless to me. What am I supposed to do, roll it around, like I’m some giant dung beetle?” She tuts, turning her head away, twisting the claw deeper into my heart.

The crimson mist thickens around me as my anger boils, the lava geyser beside us mirroring the volcanic fury in my chest.

How dare she reject my gift!

“If it’s a ring you desire,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. My hands clench into fists, shaking with outrage and the rage burning within. “It’s a ring you shall have.”

With that, I smash my molten fist into the jagged diamond boulder. Pain lances through my mind, sharp and electrifying, but I do not stop. I am harder than rock, harder than diamond, harder than all.

Gasps ripple through the blackened caverns, followed by murmurs of panic. The entire chamber shakes with each titanic blow, the sound of my strikes reverberating like an immense earthquake.

“Dracoth, stop!” Princesa cries, rushing forward to clasp my arm, her touch steadying the diamond as though to save it from my wrath.

I ignore her plea, enjoying the sharp pain of my blows piercing through my right arm. The sight of my green blood smearing the iridescent beauty is a delight to behold.

Finally, the diamond shatters under my power, my resolve. It was inevitable; I am unbreakable. My last blow sends shards flying through the air like sparkling stars in a night’s sky.

Silence falls, broken only by the hiss of lava nearby and a stunned whisper from the crowd. “By Arawnoth...”

Amusing. That something so trivial—a mere display of strength—should leave them awestruck.

From the glittering remnants, scattered like celestial fragments across the rocky ground, I stoop to snatch a flat shard.

It glimmers in my hand, and I judge it sufficient.

Pressing my clawed thumb into the heart of the shard, I apply the immense pressure and heat of Arawnoth only I can summon, shaping the rock.

Sparks fly, and steam hisses as I forge the fragment into a ring.

When it is done, I hold the band aloft, scrutinizing it with a critical eye.

A few rough edges to be smoothed out, but still, it’s an impressive thick ring of solid, gleaming diamond.

Its outer surface is jagged and unpolished.

Good—a fitting reminder of the harsh land it came from and the strength and blood required to forge it.

“Your ring,” I say, thrusting the diamond band toward Princesa.

She stands motionless, her silver eyes wide with something between shock and awe. Then, as if awakening from a trance, a smile spreads across her delicate features, transforming her face into a vision of delight.

“If you’d be so kind,” she purrs, extending the second finger on her left hand toward me.

“And you’re supposed to kneel.”