Conqueror of the Lost World

"I promise to always be by your side. Or under you. Or on top."

Unknown:

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The world around him began to twist, the once-vivid colors of the forest dissolving into molten hues of red and orange.

The trees vanished entirely, replaced by towering spires of flame that clawed at the sky like living entities.

He gazed at the surreal landscape, his intrigue growing with every step.

The geography of this place was unlike anything he had encountered before, a defiance of nature that refused to be anything but awe-inspiring.

Slowing his pace as he neared the source of the tendrils, his steps echoed softly against the scorched ground. Lifting his gaze to the horizon, he felt a gust of searing heat ripple through the air.

Basking in its intensity, he noted its oppressive weight—heat so extreme and intense and unforgiving.

For anyone else, this would have been a death sentence—flesh would char, bones would crumble, and screams would fade into silence. But for him, it was merely an inconvenience.

Due to his unique biology granting him immunity to such extremes.

Annoying as it was at first, the relentless heat became bearable over time. The boy's gaze settled on one of the fiery spires, and with a swift leap, he landed atop it.

He peered inside, expecting perhaps a hint of danger or mystery, but there was nothing—only fire, roaring and crackling in its eternal dance.

The thick, searing gas that would have suffocated anyone else did not faze him in the slightest. He straightened, scanning the horizon.

All he could see was a vast expanse of molten lava stretching endlessly, its surface shimmering with waves of unbearable heat.

As he surveyed further, two structures stood out against the fiery backdrop.

One was a towering cathedral, its form both ominous and awe-inspiring, and the other was an open plane, where someone appeared to be seated on a throne.

"So, this Land is the Land of Fire?" he mused to himself, his tone carrying equal parts curiosity and mild amusement.

His mind debated the next move, wondering if he should make his way toward the distant throne or investigate the cathedral first.

He had already made up his mind—he would confront whoever occupied the throne on the open plane.

With a powerful leap, he descended gracefully from the spire and landed mere steps away from the crystalline throne of fire.

"Wow, it's a woman," he muttered to himself, surprised. For the first time since arriving in this surreal realm, he encountered someone who appeared human.

Seated upon the throne was a woman who appeared to be in her twenties.

She exuded an air of regality, her posture commanding attention as she reclined on a throne crafted entirely from crystalline flames.

Within the crystal, the fire danced and flickered, casting an ever-changing glow that was both mesmerizing and foreboding.

The throne was not made of solid material but seemed to be forged from the essence of the flames themselves, alive and restless, shifting with an almost sentient vitality.

Yet, as he focused, he realized that her physical form was more than just a vessel—it might actually be her true form.

There was something deeply unsettling about it. As he concentrated on her soul, he noticed peculiar anomalies. Her essence appeared shredded, with tendrils of her being interwoven with tangible, foreign materials.

Certain sections seemed haphazardly patched together, as if repaired with fragments that were never hers to begin with, creating an unnatural and fragmented mosaic of identity.

I don't think that is her vessel but her true form, he thought, the realization only adding to the intrigue and unease of the moment.

This being, if she could even still be called human... it was hard to say. Her essence, however fractured and tainted, still bore the unmistakable imprint of humanity.

As the boy focused on eyes, they were captivating. Soft pink hair caught the light, framing her fiery eyes.

The flames within them flickered and danced, appearing almost alive—a mesmerizing display, like a 3D tattoo etched into her very soul.

Despite the otherworldly fire emanating around and from her, her outward appearance was pristine, almost doll-like.

Her alabaster skin was flawless, her cherry-tinted nose delicate, and her pink eyes glowed with an unnatural allure, perfectly complementing her vibrant pink hair.

She wore a gown adorned with fiery petal-like designs that shimmered with every subtle movement.

An upper coat, crafted with the same fiery motif, flowed behind her, radiating heat. And yet, she seemed utterly unaffected by the infernal temperatures.

Her expression was cool and composed, not a single bead of sweat on her serene face, even as literal flames flared around her head, blending seamlessly with the coat's fiery design.

As the boy locked eyes with her, she met his gaze unflinchingly, her fiery orbs blazing with both menace and curiosity.

"So... you've come," she began first, her voice carrying an unsettling blend of intrigue and threat.

"For millennia—throughout the entirety of my existence—no one has ever made it this far."

Her lips curled into a dangerous smile, her fiery eyes narrowing as if trying to peer through the very fabric of his being.

"But you… you did," she murmured, her voice soft yet reverberating with power. There was a thinly veiled threat in her tone, and he could feel it as the oppressive heat in the air intensified.

The pressure around her rose, flames flaring with each subtle movement. The air seemed to vibrate with the promise of imminent conflict.

Yet, just as she anticipated a battle to ignite, the boy did something unexpected.

Raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, he spoke calmly. "First, can I ask you a question?"

She paused, perhaps intrigued by his audacity, and with a slight nod, allowed him to speak.

The fire dimmed slightly, her power receding just enough for her to hear what he had to say.

With a straight face, the boy muttered the same cliched shit, "If you had big boobs, I might've considered you a threat." Guess not the same cliched shit.

The words hung in the air for a moment, their absurdity cutting through the tension like a blade.

Then, pointing casually at her chest, he added with a smirk, "They're not even mountains—more like sand dunes."

Was he disappointed, His thoughts continued do suggest that: Isn't it normal for the villain's mommy to be the big, bad, booby mommy? He sighed internally, disappointed.

"What did you just say?" The pink-haired woman finally registered his words, her voice tinged with disbelief as the power around her wavered, fluctuating with her emotions.

Wasn't this supposed to be the climactic moment? A battle of life and death, where she would either kill him or be killed by him?

Instead, this man—this absurd boy—was making comments about her breasts. How… how indecent.

"I said your boobs are small," he repeated without a shred of shame, his tone utterly unapologetic.

Her thoughts raced. What is even happening here? She glanced down, momentarily distracted by his words. Her chest, while modest, was perfectly proportionate.

"Are you seriously looking down now?" he remarked, his voice brimming with audacity.

She froze, the insult lingering like a thorn. Before she could gather her thoughts, he added, "Sorry, I think they're not even sand dunes—they're a runway track."

Her eyes widened in shock. "You… you…" Words failed her.

Her composure, carefully maintained for centuries, was crumbling in the face of his relentless provocation.

"Those are tits, those are flat as a board." And he said that with a straight face.

Fucker She clenched her fists, her face tinged with a furious shade of pink. "I am average," she declared, her voice faltering slightly, betraying a mix of anger and embarrassment.

But even that declaration wasn't safe. He burst into laughter, his voice echoing across the fiery landscape. "Hahaha… You bitch, they're not even mosquito bites!"

The words hit like a slap, her fury rising to a crescendo.

And yet, deep down, she couldn't decide what was more infuriating—the sheer nerve of this boy or the fact that she felt the need to defend herself.

Was she angry, yes she was. She was so angry, but once she knew what she was even angry about, she was even more angry…..

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