Mike's body ached from the power Bahamut had exerted, but his laughter carried him forward. The jungle was nothing beneath his wings, trees breaking as he leapt skyward. He burned through the clouds, crimson and green fire trailing his scales, and set his course south.
The night turned to dawn as the mountains rose in the distance. Quito sprawled below, a city straddling history, modern towers clawing at the sky, but the bones of an empire still whispering in its stones.
Mike circled once before landing in the jungle outside the city. His eyes narrowed. Soldiers patrolled the streets, not with guns or armor of steel, but with golden breastplates that shimmered in the rising sun. Feathers crowned their helmets, spears of bronze tipped with faint, humming divinity gleaming in their hands. The people bowed as they passed, fear and reverence blended into one.
Mike's chest rumbled. He leaned low, the urge to strike curling like fire in his gut. He could already imagine the golden armor caving beneath his claws, the feathers torn, blood spilling over stone streets.
A voice came from above him.
"Careful, Michael. They aren't yours to devour."
Mike whipped his head. A monkey sat on a branch just ahead, tail swaying lazily, golden eyes studying him with infuriating calm.
The dragon growled. "Binyai."
Binyai grinned, teeth flashing white. "You're welcome, by the way. If I hadn't whispered to Bahamut before, you'd still be nothing but ash and broken scales under that Watcher's heel." He scratched behind his ear and dropped to a lower branch. "Now that you've survived, and if you want the primordials you crave, you'll find them in the Amazon."
Mike's eyes burned hotter. "Then lead the way. Stop speaking in circles."
Binyai sighed, wagging his finger. "Not so simple. Between here and there, you'll find many resistances. Creatures from ancient times. Young fools calling themselves gods. And…" He pointed with his tail toward the streets of Quito. "…those."
Mike followed his gaze. The golden-armored soldiers stopped at a plaza, their spears thudding against stone in rhythm. Children knelt in rows before them, heads bowed, as if waiting for blessing or judgment.
Binyai's voice dropped. "The Incan gods chosen have selected their pawns. They want an empire again, and they'll use the people to build it. These soldiers aren't just humans in fancy armor. They carry gifts of divinity. Their spears will pierce even your hide if you're careless."
Mike growled low, heat boiling between his teeth. "So? I'll crush them like all the rest."
The monkey leapt closer, landing on a stone near Mike's claw. His voice sharpened, almost desperate. "Don't. Not yet. You start a war here, and you'll be tangled in it for an extended amount of time. You'll never reach the primordials before Abaddon comes. Go to the jungle's heart. That's where your true meal waits."
Mike's gaze lingered on the plaza. The soldiers stood proud, golden light gleaming off their armor, but what held his attention were the children. Thin, silent, eyes wide with something between awe and terror. They were no warriors. Not even chosen. Just lambs led by priests with gold and feathers.
His chest heaved. His claws flexed. The fire in him screamed to erupt, to slaughter, to burn.
But, Mike turned away.
He snapped his wings wide, the air tearing around him, and launched into the sky. His roar shook the city below, but no flames followed. No massacre. Just shadow and sound.
Binyai clung to the ridge of his back, monkey form pressed low against crimson scales. He chuckled, though unease lingered in his tone. "Maybe you're learning restraint."
Mike's laughter rolled out like thunder. "The jungle better provide the battle I want."
Southward they flew, toward the green horizon where the Amazon sprawled endlessly. And somewhere in its heart, the primordials stirred.
The wind screamed as Mike cut across the sky, wings cracking thunder through the clouds. Below him stretched the sea of green, endless and suffocating, the Amazon swallowing the horizon. His scales glowed black and crimson in the sunlight.
On his back, Binyai clung without fear, fur ruffled by the roaring wind. He said nothing for hours, only watching the jungle below, his eyes scanning the canopy as if expecting the earth itself to rise up and bite.
When Mike finally dipped lower, the air grew thick and wet, the green endlessness rushing up to meet them. He slammed into a clearing, the ground shattering under his weight, soil and roots ripping upward in a plume. Birds screamed and scattered. The forest fell silent.
Mike stretched his wings wide, his laughter echoing like a storm breaking against stone.
"I can feel it," he growled, sniffing the humid air. "Something knows I'm here."
Binyai dropped from his back and perched on a fallen branch, tail swaying. His smile was sharp. "And it doesn't welcome you, Dumu-Kur. The Amazon is old. Older than your kind. You step into the heart of its gods."
The ground trembled.
Mike's head snapped up. Trees swayed though no wind stirred them. The canopy shivered. Then came the hiss, low, wet, dragging across the earth like a thousand snakes slithering at once.
From the wall of green burst a beast as tall as the trees themselves. Its body was scaled but swollen, muscles coiling under moss-draped hide. Its maw stretched wide, too wide, filled with black fangs that dripped venom steaming on the soil. Eyes yellow as rotting fruit glared at Mike.
The Yacumama, the Mother of Waters, guardian serpent of the Amazon.
Binyai hissed through his teeth. "You've barely landed, and already the jungle sends its oldest predator."
Mike roared in delight. "Good shit snake! Come get me!"
The Yacumama struck, the ground splitting as its body slammed forward, jaws unhinged to swallow him whole. Mike met it head-on, claws digging into its upper jaw, crimson fire spilling from his throat. The flames boiled the venom to vapor, filling the clearing with choking steam.
The serpent thrashed, its body smashing through trees like brittle bones, coils wrapping around Mike's torso. Bones cracked, scales split, blood spraying against the leaves.
But Mike only laughed. "Yes… YES!"
He tore a chunk of flesh from the serpent's neck, his teeth shearing scale and sinew, hot blood gushing down his throat. The Yacumama shrieked. It tried to drag him down, crushing him in its coils, but every bite Mike took healed his wounds, his power swelling as the serpent weakened.
Binyai crouched on a branch above, watching with a grimace. "You really are insane."
Mike's jaws clamped again, ripping half the serpent's face away. Blood painted the jungle floor, steaming where it touched his fire. He shoved the beast down with a thunderous slam, snapping trees like twigs as he pinned its body beneath him.
The Yacumama writhed, its coils loosening, its shrieks fading to wet gasps. Mike stood over it, chest heaving, laughter breaking into a roar that shook the entire basin.
The jungle had sent its champion.
And he was devouring it alive.