Devouring Brimstone IV

A translucent glass dome sits utterly still upon a plane of ustulate granite, its gaping maw pointing listlessly upwards into the sky above, as if awaiting a visitor from the azure. As if beckoned by the whims of the ceramic hemisphere, a brittle rectangular prism begins to descend from the an artificial crimson vessel high above the world. Every inch of its surface was covered in sinuous yellow filaments that seemed to wind and twist within itself in an endless loop, like a brackish ouroboros. 

The six-faced prismoid lands gracefully within the exposed cavity of the glass dome and rests serenely within its transparent walls. Rushing water, shooting vaporized steam into the atmosphere due to the intensity of its heat, announces its arrival with a high-pitched screech as it cascades into the clear oblatum, filling it to the upper limit of its rim, and submerging the maze of undulating tendrils like melting wax. 

The structure of the vermiform polyhedron began to lose its stability as the scorching heat of boiling water gradually deteriorated its physical bonds, causing the once-emeshed strands to separate and disperse like starving eels scattered in salinated liquid in search of prey. 

After several minutes, or perhaps several hours, the glass dome begins to raise into the sky, before tilting slightly, and languidly affusing its now-opaque contents into the infinite white chasm below, leaving only a tangled net of striated serpents within its hollow interior. 

Precipitation of thick, viscous maroon fluid monsooned the fragile snakes below, suffocating them in an intoxicating blanket of liquid that allowed for neither movement nor thought. The aroma of molten lava and ash asphyxiated any life that still remained. Fate, the arbiter of cruelest irony, produced a steel pitchfork from the darkness, in order to continue the tortures of Hell within the dome, until the process was finally completed. The wretched worms, once a pale yellow, have now been rendered a flaming scarlet, practically melting the walls that struggle to contain them.

...My noodles are finished at last! Keheheh, 5 minutes passes in naught but an instant when I'm concentrated on the elaborate dramaturgy of my mind... Perhaps writing is my true calling? ...Now then. Allow me to test a bite... KRGH... N-No matter how often I consume these... They never seem to get any less spicy... But I can't afford to give up on my training... Not when I'm already this far... I'll defeat that beast at any cost in a competition of spice endurance!!!