The jungle closed in heavier with every step, the canopy strangling the light until the air itself felt like a suffocating weight. Mike's wounds stung, the blessings in the arrows and spears still gnawing at his flesh, but his grin never left. Each ache was proof of a fight worth having.
Binyai shifted on his shoulder, tail twitching nervously. "They won't stop, Dumu-Kur. You've already killed their hunters. Now they'll send more… and worse."
Mike's lips curled. "Good."
The rustling came first, hundreds of feet moving in rhythm. Then the chanting, voices low and guttural, filling the jungle like drums of war. The brush split as warriors emerged in formation, their armor not just feathers and paint this time, but burnished gold glowing with power. At their head stood a man crowned with a headdress of condor feathers, his spear burning like a shard of the sun.
"Chosen of Inti," Binyai whispered. His monkey's face went grim. "The sun god lends his flame."
The spear-bearer pointed at Mike, his voice booming like thunder: "Beast of the sky! You desecrate our gods' domain. By the will of Inti, you die here!"
Mike roared back, fire spilling from his teeth. "All of you weaklings just shout at me before you die!"
They came at once. Arrows rained, each tip sparking like molten gold. Spears clashed against his skin, digging through flesh and muscle, fire eating at his wounds. Mike's laughter shook the canopy as he plowed into them, claws tearing through golden armor like parchment. One man's spine snapped in his grip, another's torso ripped free in a spray of blood.
But even as he carved through them, the air split with light.
Wings.
Not feathered like the Incans, but radiant, blazing with holy light. A host of angels descended through the canopy, their blades of light singing as they cut through branches. The warriors below dropped to their knees in reverence. The jungle itself seemed to hush at their arrival.
The angel at the front spoke in a condescending tone while glaring at Mike. "Foul abomination! Give up your useless resistance! Once the final trumpet sounds, Abbadon rises and all your effort shall be for naught!"
Mike snarled, his grin turned sharp. "You fuckers never stop."
The angel flew at him, sword raised high. Mike caught its arm mid-swing, ripped it clean from the socket, and used the severed limb to club the angel across the face. Bone shattered. Wings folded at grotesque angles. Mike slammed the body into the dirt and stomped until nothing but pulp remained.
Another angel dove from above. Mike hurled the bloody arm like a spear, skewering the angel through the chest. It shrieked, thrashing as it fell into the warriors below, crushing them beneath divine fire and broken wings.
Two more attacked together, blades flashing. Mike met them with laughter, seizing one by the throat and using it as a shield against the other's strike. The sword carved straight through its comrade's chest, and Mike tore its head off in the same motion. He hurled the corpse into the warriors, scattering them like ants.
Binyai clung to a high branch, eyes wide, his voice sharp. "Michael enough! They'll bring the entire pantheon to come attack you!"
But Mike didn't hear. His laughter rolled like thunder. He grabbed the last angel still within reach, slammed it against a tree until the trunk split, then beat another warrior to paste with its broken body. Blood rained, screams choked into silence, and the jungle floor became a mire of gore.
Only one angel remained, its radiant form trembling. Its blade shook in its hands, holy fire sputtering under the weight of fear. Mike stepped forward, drenched in blood, dragging broken wings behind him like trophies.
He grinned, lips red with gore. "Run."
The angel broke. With a scream it shot skyward, tearing through the canopy, its radiance dwindling into the clouds as it fled.
Mike stood alone, chest heaving, crimson fire crackling over his wounds. His laughter carried through the basin, shaking trees, rattling the bones of the dead at his feet.
And in his mind, Bahamut's voice boomed, deep and mocking:
"Yes, Hatchling. Tear the feathered bats apart. Make them remember what fear tastes like."
Mike threw his head back and roared, blood dripping from his teeth, the jungle trembling in answer.
The jungle stank of blood and smoke. Bodies lay broken across the clearing, feathers soaked crimson, angelic wings smoldering where they had been torn apart. Mike's chest rose and fell like bellows, the fire beneath his skin simmering but not quenched.
His grin faded as Bahamut's voice surged in his skull, deep and unrelenting.
"Do you feel it, hatchling? They will not stop. Every divine thing that crawls or flies in this world will come for you now. You are a stain to them, an aberration born of god and beast. They reject your existence outright."
Mike spat blood into the dirt, his jaw tightening. "Let them come. I'll kill them all."
Bahamut's laughter shook the marrow in his bones. "You cannot slaughter endlessly without purpose. You feed, yes, you grow stronger but you waste time. Abaddon will soon be here. The Watchers are a threat. And insects come only to delay you."
Mike's hands curled into fists, claws cutting his palms. "Then what do you want me to do?"
The dragon's voice rolled like thunder, drowning the sounds of the jungle. "The primordials. Their essence is what you require. Consume them, and you will rise beyond these gnats. Without them, you will be killed by Abbadon or the Watchers."
Mike's eyes burned red in the shadows of the canopy. He turned, watching the chosen of Inti fleeing with the remnants of their army. Picking up a piece of angel, he tore mouthfuls of flesh, feeling his wounds beginning to heal. Taking a few more angel limbs in one arm as he continued eating, his bare feet sinking into mud as he walked deeper into the jungle's choking heart.
Behind his steps, Bahamut's laughter erupted in Mike's mind.
"The Wild Hunt has returned, hatchling! Go show him your new strength!"
A fierce glint appeared in Mike's eyes as he looked out into the jungle. Remembering his previous battle with Woden, a smile formed on his face before he let out a thunderous roar.
The roar echoed across the Amazon, shaking birds from the trees, startling beasts into flight. Even the roots quivered, as though the earth itself feared the last dragon.
Mike bared his teeth, the grin growing, splitting his bloodstained face. "I'll show you what fear is this time Woden."
He marched into the dark, the shadows swallowing him whole.