For the first time since he had awakened to this nightmare of gods, demons, and Titans, he felt the storm inside him settle into something sharp. A force pulling at him to go fight. He felt excitement building up inside his chest. A smile stretched across his face, slow and deliberate. His doppelgänger stared back at him, silent now, as if waiting for judgment.
Mike gave it.
"I know what I am," he said, his voice low, steady, carved from the weight of blood and fire. "I don't want peace. I don't want forgiveness. I don't want to be their pawn. I want to fight. I want to kill. I want to savor their screams as I tear their thrones apart, one pantheon at a time. My vow after Hunter's death will be fulfilled."
The void pulsed in answer, the blackness vibrating like a heartbeat. Mike's eyes burned crimson-gold, molten cracks of light spreading across the endless dark.
He lifted his head up at the sky, fangs gleaming. "I am coming for all of you." He laughed, a low, hungry sound. "I'll enjoy watching you scream and struggle."
The shadow of Bahamut's presence stirred within him, not whispering this time but laughing, a deep, thunderous laugh that shook the void. "Good, hatchling. You speak with your own voice and divine purpose."
The doppelgänger smirked faintly, fading into smoke. The last words lingered as it vanished:
"Then fight. But make it yours."
The void shattered like glass.
Mike's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the desert ruins, the battlefield where Koios had fallen now silent and broken. The air still shimmered with heat from his fire, the dunes cracked into blackened rivers of glass, but the Titan's essence was gone. Nothing remained but silence and the taste of power still burning in his veins.
"About time you woke up."
The voice slid across the silence. Mike's body jerked as he shot to his feet, claws curling, his aura flaring hot. His eyes snapped to the source of the voice that made his skin crawl. Mephistopheles.
The demon sat in his familiar obsidian chair as though it had grown from the glass itself, his long legs crossed, his black cane resting across his lap. A top hat shadowed his face, but his grin gleamed wide and hungry, as though he'd been watching for hours.
Mike's chest heaved, fire leaking from between his teeth. "You." His voice thundered across the dunes. "What the fuck do you want?"
Mephistopheles tapped his cane once against the glass, the sound sharp and deliberate. "Relax, Michael," he purred. "I'm not here to fight. Quite the opposite, really. I must say… bravo." His grin widened, his teeth sharp and endless. "Koios, the Titan of the North, devoured and dragged screaming into oblivion. Oh, the poetry. You've grown into something far more entertaining than I expected."
Mike snarled, aura spiking, but the demon only leaned back in his chair, unfazed. "Don't scowl. I came to deliver a gift. Or a temptation. Whichever you prefer." His head tilted slightly, eyes glowing faintly red beneath the brim of his hat. "There's another Titan. Two hundred miles north, beneath the ground, feasting on humans, demons, pretty much anything. I thought you'd get along seeing how you both enjoy feasting."
Bahamut's voice echoed in Mike's mind. "Hatchling, what is the goal of the bat? He seems to be helping but what side is he on?"
Mike's nostrils flared, thinking about Bahamut's words and how to approach Mephistopheles in the future. His blood burned hotter, the new feeling in his chest pushing him towards the next battle.
Mephistopheles clapped once, softly, the sound carrying with mocking elegance. "I cannot wait to see what you'll make of him. Every kill you take, every divine being you tear down… it all makes this stage so much more beautiful. You're a storm of entertainment, Mike. A storm I will happily watch forever."
"Shut up," Mike growled. His wings burst from his back with a roar of flame, his body stretching, hardening, crimson and black scales shimmering. His talons dug into the glass as the dragon rose once more, massive wings blotting the starlit sky.
Mephistopheles' grin widened, his cane tapping against the obsidian armrest in glee. "Yes… yes! Go, little dragon. Hunt. Entertain me."
Mike didn't spare him another word. With a roar that shook the shattered desert, he launched skyward, fire trailing in his wake, his eyes locked to the north where Titan waited.
Mike's massive form cut across the sky, each beat of his wings scattering dunes into spirals of sand. The pulse of Titan essence throbbed faintly in the north, a distant drumbeat calling him forward. Hunger pulled at him, steady and inexorable.
But the wind shifted.
The air thickened.
Ahead, on the broken edge of a canyon, light tore into the sky. Not fire or essence. A radiant light that burned cold.
Mike slowed, talons slicing the air, eyes narrowing as he descended.
As he got closer he saw the Angels.
Dozens of them. Their wings gleamed like molten silver, their halos searing against the night as they clashed in formation. Blades of light carved through the canyon, cutting into flesh and stone alike. Their voices rose in a unified chant, words of judgment that made the air itself shake.
And their enemies were chosen. Humans wielding different powers bearing a mark he did not recognize. Each chosen fought like an army unto themselves, unleashing torrents of essence, their fury aimed skyward at their radiant foes.
The canyon had become a battlefield of gods' pawns.
Mike hovered above it all, the heat of his body warping the air around him. His eyes traced the chaos below, pillars of fire tearing angels from the sky, winged warriors driving spears of light through the chests of chosen, the earth itself breaking under the violence of their war.
For a moment, the hunger made him consider joining the battle. In his mind he kept thinking. So much essence and power to be gained.
But his gaze turned north.
The Titan's call was louder.
"Ignore the feathered bats," Bahamut's voice rumbled within him, steady and absolute. "Their squabbles are the games of insects. You have larger prey."
Mike's chest burned with agreement. He tilted his head once toward the battlefield, his crimson eyes gazing across both angel and chosen. Neither side dared glance up, yet all of them felt the weight of his shadow pass over them.
Then he was gone, wings snapping wide as he surged northward, gusts of sand trailing in his wake, leaving the battlefield to drown in its own blood.