With another smash of Iapetus giant black fist the desert split open. Blackened stone twisted upward, jagged towers splitting the glass into canyons that bled with corruption. From the chasm rose a colossal figure, draped in shadows that dripped like tar. His body was half-flesh, half-earth, veins of molten black pulsing across his form. His face was carved from ruin itself, eyes like wells of abyssal fire.
Iapetus. The Corrupter. Titan of mortality and rot.
His voice rolled across the wasteland, slow and deliberate, like boulders grinding in the dark.
"Another devourer. Koios falls, and the dragon comes here to carve at me. So be it. Come, then. End my wandering years."
Mike landed with a thunderous impact, claws tearing through glass and sand, wings stretching wide. His maw split into a feral grin. The hunger inside him wasn't quiet anymore, it sang, sharp and relentless.
"I don't want your words," Mike growled. Smoke poured between his fangs. "I just want your screams."
He lunged.
The clash shook the desert. Mike's jaws snapped on Iapetus' arm, teeth crunching into Titan flesh and stone. The taste was different than Koios, thicker, fouler, a rot that carried centuries of blood. Iapetus roared, not in fear, not in panic, but in the steady sound of exertion as his other hand slammed down, crushing Mike into the ground.
Mike's laugh tore out between his teeth. His scales cracked, then healed in molten surges as he wrenched free and bit again, tearing another chunk from Iapetus' thigh.
The Titan's blood boiled black across the battlefield, and where it fell, corpses clawed their way free of the earth. Soldiers from forgotten wars, angels, demons, mortals, each twisted into husks of shadow and rot. They surged toward Mike in a wave of clawing hands and broken faces.
Mike roared, fire washing over them in a searing flood. He did not bite at their rotting flesh. Not this time. He remembered the poison of Hecate's undead, the rot of false meals. These were similar undead creatures that would provide him no healing.
He wanted only Iapetus.
The Titan did not falter when his healing slowed. His massive frame bled openly, great rivers of corrupted essence leaking into the sands. But his stance remained steady, every strike measured, every blow meant to grind the dragon into dust. There was no panic in him. No desperation. Only the grim inevitability of a warrior who had already walked into death.
Mike bit into his ribs, feeling them crack in his jaws. He tore loose another chunk, essence flooding him with molten ecstasy. His wounds closed faster now, even as the Titan's black spikes tore through his wings. Fire cascaded from his throat, burning through Iapetus' chest, searing the Titan's flesh as tar like chunks of flesh crashed into the canyon walls.
And still Iapetus fought. Each punch slammed like an earthquake. Each strike carved Mike's body into fractures that only barely sealed before the next blow. He did not plead. He did not curse. He fought, dying and unyielding.
Mike's laughter grew louder. With each bite, with each gush of Titan blood down his throat, his joy swelled. This was it. The raw violence, the pure struggle, the fight that made existence worthwhile.
"Yes, hatchling!" Bahamut's voice thundered in his skull, joyous and wild. "No pity! No mercy! He dies with his fists raised, as it should be!"
Mike's claws sank into Iapetus' chest, tearing apart ribs of stone and void. His jaws locked on the Titan's throat, ripping sideways, scales glowing brighter with every mouthful. Iapetus staggered, fell to one knee, his frame crumbling piece by piece. Iapetus tore him away and launched him into the canyon floor below.
The titan's voice carried calm through the ruin.
"I see it now," Iapetus said, blood flooding his jaw. "The end of my mortality may come but I will take you with me dragon." He raised both hands above his head and brought them down at full speed, utilizing his remaining strength. A massive explosion of earth and rot launched Mike across the canyon, burying his body into a rock wall.
Spitting a mouthful of blood Mike's eyes burned, blood dripping from the wounds all over his body. A viscous laugh escaped his fanged maw as he launched towards the titan. As his jaws tore into Iapetus's flesh, molten cracks spreading across his scales as he sank his fangs deeper. With a roar that tore open the night, he ripped the Titan apart, consuming everything, flesh, and essence until nothing remained. The desert quaked under the weight of Mike's growing power.
With the last mouthful of blackened flesh it was done. Iapetus was gone.
Mike stood trembling, body blazing with cracks of crimson-gold fire, every vein burning with power too vast to contain. He heaved for air, chest swelling, his vision pulsing red. The taste of Titan essence flooded his mind until thought blurred into heat and violence. His legs buckled. His sight faltered.
The world tilted.
Above him, light flared.
Dozens of angels descended, halos blazing white fire, swords of judgment raised high. Their chants shook the desert, calling down pillars of light meant to tear the dragon apart.
Mike's head snapped upward, fury breaking through exhaustion. His voice thundered, feral and wrathful:
"FUCKING ANGELS!"
He launched upward, fire exploding from his jaws in a storm. Angels shrieked as molten flame tore their wings, their radiant armor crumbling under his rage. Mike ripped through the first one mid-air, biting him in half, blood and light scattering in a crimson arc. His tail smashed another into the ground, his claws tearing three more apart in a single swipe.
Bahamut's laughter rolled across the night. "YES, HATCHLING! YES! Kill more feathered bats! They interrupt your meal, make them suffer!"
The angels cried out in agony and fury, but Mike answered only with fire and teeth, shredding their ranks, savoring every scream that fell across the burning desert.
More flashes of light filled the air as additional angels appeared. Uncontrollable rage filled his mind as he roared. Turning toward the new angels he opened his mouth to burn them, but the power inside him surged too far. His body trembled, vision splintering. His wings faltered.
Through the chaos, he heard it.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The sound of a cane against rock.
His eyes dragged downward. On the edge of the ruin, beneath the pale light of fire and blood, sat Mephistopheles. Obsidian chair, top hat shadowing his grin, eyes glinting with delight.
Mike's chest heaved, his roar breaking into a snarl, but his strength failed him. His body convulsed, molten light fracturing across his scales.
Darkness swallowed him.
And once more, he opened his eyes to nothing. No sky. No earth. No air. Only the oppressive darkness all around him.
"Fucking angels and demons…" he muttered as he stared into the darkness.