Step One

[Albert Wesker]

Their day's march was brought to a halt, as they sheltered within one of the caves they had come across. The night brought with it no further dangers, save for a rumbling deep within the earth that set the entire landscape to quaking. The crashing of boulders and an explosive burst of lava tearing the earth asunder in the distance served as an alarm for the entire group the next 'morning', and provided a solid impetus to get underway again with all rapidity.

Haste was the pervading order of the day as they roused themselves from slumber. Food was prepared and eaten, mostly cold in the name of expedience. And in the case of the Gorons, a fair amount of it was rock. Rock Sirloin, according to one of the more boisterous and friendly of the behemoth creatures. Finest stuff a growing Goron could get their hands on. Would've been better properly cooked, quick-fried in a lava bath, but that was a luxury they couldn't really afford now. They were moving again within an hour of the first awakening.

The second day's march quickly proved itself far more easygoing and simple than the first. The looming shadows of a swarm of pterosaurs and dragons circled overhead, their shrieking cries and piercing squeals echoing across the land. They had gotten quite riled up, and locked into a heated engagement. Now and then, one of them would come plummeting down to earth, crashing down in a plume of ash and dust, or else splash down in molten rock and skitter across the boiling surface. Like water on waxed metal, they bounced and floundered, flapping and spasming around until they finally combusted and melted, sinking into the viscous volcanic sludge.

It was a grim sight, but it was one they could contend with. It didn't present any obstacle to them, just a constant hazard they had to be alert for. Should the aerial predators decide to stop demolishing each other and turn their attention ground-ward, there would be precious little that could be done about it, save to try and fight back and flee.

The prehistoric flying beasts would be bad enough, as the Gorons told. They were strong and vicious, the bigger ones capable of carrying away a fully-grown Goron. But they were notoriously fragile and a well-placed rock, launched by powerful Goron arms, could knock one clean out of the sky. The dragonlings swarming around would be the bigger problem. Lightning-quick and with an unnatural intellect and cunning, coupled with surprising strength and resilience even at their young age and small size; their fiery breath couldn't do significant harm to a Goron at their development and size, but it was still a hazard. Especially for the likes of Wesker and his subordinate.

Thankfully, they managed to leave the swarming predators behind after a few hours of determined marching. Their shrill squawks and screams faded into the background distance, and tension bled away from the group. They had seen predators from both sides swoop down upon the fallen, tearing and devouring at the bodies before they were even dead. Regardless of whether it was one of their own, or one of their rival, it mattered little; meat was meat. It was certainly a grisly sight, but Wesker took it in stride. Nothing compared to some of the monstrosities he'd seen and even had a hand in creating, with his work among Umbrella's viruses. The likes of even Lisa Trevor was a far more terrifying prospect than any of these creatures. She had been...imperfect, it was true, but a valuable specimen all the same, and her resilience and strength was nothing short of phenomenal.

It brought to mind old memories, as they trekked across the lava-stained wastelands. Wiping ash and grime from his face and glasses, as he recalled his original work in the mansion and research facility in the Arklay Mountains. Work at the behest of Spencer...it had been the beginning of something far greater than the delusional old man could have ever seen coming. Unbidden, a smile crawled onto Wesker's features, a quiet chuckle rising in his throat. Such...fond memories, of his humble beginnings.