The cracked crust of the continent radiated residual heat, her footprints stretching for thousands of kilometers in every direction—gigantic impressions smoldering with residual magma, glowing like open foot-shaped wounds on the surface of the planet.

Entire regions had vanished beneath her bare soles, now merely textured smudges of ash, glass, and molten ruin etched into the prints she left behind. Magma dribbled languidly from the curve of her arch, trailing between her toes like glistening paint on a deadly brush.

She sighed and reclined slightly, her massive tail coiled behind her like a relaxed serpent, the continent beneath groaning in tectonic protest. Her cyan eyes flicked across the landscape—lakes boiled dry, skies veiled in ash, the silence absolute except for the distant hissing of the scorched earth cooling under her weight.

Then she smirked.

“Tsk,” she muttered, her voice carrying across the hemisphere, casual yet omnipresent. She glanced down at the molten residue clinging stubbornly to her sole. “My feet rack today…”

One of her toes flexed idly, dislodging a boulder the size of a city block. It rolled down the rim of her heelprint and vanished into a glowing fissure below. Her snout wrinkled as she brought her foot slightly up, inspecting the blackened streaks across her scaled sole.

“…Must be all that continental crust. I swear, it clings worse than PR interns around my pedicure sessions.”

She chuckled—low, husky, and seismic. A tremor surged across the devastated land in rhythm with her amusement. Somewhere beneath the arch of her right foot, tectonic plates buckled like wet paper.

With a languid motion, she finally crossed her legs, her left sole rising high above the ruined continent before settling with a resonant sigh atop her other foot—one apocalyptic impression layered over another. The ground below groaned again, as if the planet itself feared being forgotten under her casual posture.

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