“Come on, come on…” Shane grunted, thumbs pressing the locking runes. The metal of his gloves melted. He felt his palms blister.

It was sleeping. And it was purring. The sound melted pebbles ten yards away.

The Black Hydra’s seven heads turned. They vomited their black, sizzling acid.

In the deepest, most untamed trenches of Slugterra, where the ambient glow of the surface crystals gave way to a hellish, pulsing orange, Shane Ganley guided his mecha-beast, Magma-Spike , through a river of cooling obsidian. He was a Free Runner, not a competitor in the grand leagues, and his quarry was the stuff of legend: the Lavalynx .