The clearing reeked of fire and blood. Woden staggered, his cloak in tatters, the shattered haft of his once-pristine spear lying in the mud. His breath came ragged, and for the first time since stepping into the jungle, the Wild Hunt faltered.
Mike advanced slowly, each step deliberate, claws dripping, fire seething beneath his skin. His grin split wide across his gore-smeared face, every inch of him radiating brutal confidence.
"You look like shit," Mike growled, dragging his claws across a tree as he passed. The bark hissed, splitting into ash. "Did you think it'd go the same way as last time?"
Woden steadied himself against a root, his antlers dim, runes flickering weakly. Still, his voice carried that ancient weight. "I am the Hunt. You… are only rage. Only hunger."
Mike chuckled, low and vicious. "And I'll devour everything."
He lunged, claws ripping across Woden's chest. Flesh tore, blood spilling hot over the roots. Before the god could brace, Mike slammed his knee into his gut, snapping bone, then seized one antler and wrenched it sideways until it splintered with a crack that echoed through the canopy. Woden roared, blood streaming down his temple, his balance broken.
Mike didn't relent. He pummeled the god, claws carving strips from his chest, fire scorching wounds that wouldn't close. Every strike was a hammer blow, every tear meant to humiliate, to dismantle piece by piece what the Wild Hunt pretended to be.
Woden swung back once, a desperate slash of conjured light across Mike's ribs. The wound hissed, but Mike only laughed in his face, blood dripping from his teeth.
"Is this it?" Mike snarled. He seized Woden's arm, twisted until tendons snapped, and tore it clean from his shoulder. He held the limb up, shaking it like a trophy. "The great hunter, ripped apart like all the rest!"
He smashed the severed arm into Woden's face, teeth shattering under the blow. The god's body sagged against the roots, every breath labored, his blood soaking into the dirt.
Mike crouched low, his eyes blazing with crimson fire, voice a guttural snarl. "All of you… every god, every angel, every coward hiding in their temples, you're all going to die. And it's because of her. Hecate lit the fire. Now I'll burn it all down."
For the first time, Woden's expression shifted. Broken though he was, blood running down his chin, a faint, almost proud smile tugged at his lips.
"Good," he rasped.
Mike's roar split the air as he seized Woden's head in both claws and tore it free in a spray of gore. The antlers cracked, runes fading into nothing as the vessel's body slumped lifeless against the roots. Mike raised the severed head once, devouring it in a single bite.
Silence reclaimed the clearing, broken only by the sound of Mike's heavy breathing. Fire coiled around his body before dimming, his form shrinking back down until he stood bare-chested and human once more, streaked with blood from head to toe.
In his mind, Bahamut's laughter thundered, sharp and approving.
"Yes, hatchling! Rip them apart, make the gods fear you."
Mike's lips curled into a feral grin, but before he could speak, Bahamut's voice shifted, commanding.
"And you, halfling."
Binyai flinched where he clung to the canopy, then scrambled back down to Mike's shoulder. His little hands trembled against Mike's blood-slick skin. "Yes?"
"Do not warn him again when prey approaches," the dragon rumbled. "Let the hatchling suffer. Let him bleed. It is through pain and near-death struggle that will sharpen him. Protecting him with your chatter is for the weak."
Binyai's ears flattened, but he nodded his head. "Fine."
Mike said nothing. He strode past the broken clearing after consuming body of Woden's vessel, his bare feet sinking into the jungle mud, each step carrying him deeper into the choking heart of the forest.
The air seemed heavier now, shadows thicker, the entire Amazon was silent.
Binyai perched on his shoulder as Mike's grin returned, crimson still dripping from his jaw. He walked on, deeper into the dark, hunting for the primordial villages.
Mike's steps slowed as the jungle thinned, roots giving way to stone. The air was different here, drier, tinged with smoke. He lifted his head and drew in a breath through flared nostrils.
The steady, pulsing kind of smoke coming from hearths and forges. It carried a faint undercurrent, rich, heavy, and strangely familiar. The taste lingered in his throat, sparking along his nerves. His skin prickled, his veins humming with the same gnawing hunger that once drove him to devour the titans.
Mike crouched low, muscles coiling, his bare feet silent against the rocks. His grin returned, slow at first, then curling into a vicious, eager smile.
He moved forward, crawling now, until the trees broke and the world fell away beneath him. A jagged cliff dropped into a wide valley, the jungle peeled back to reveal stone huts clustered around a central square. Smoke rose from fires where figures moved below, their voices carrying faintly on the wind.
Mike leaned over the cliff edge, eyes burning with crimson fire.
A village.
No… not ordinary. The sensation crawling under his skin told him more. That weight in the air, that heavy, divine power, it was the same that had clung to the titans he had torn apart and consumed. A resonance, raw and unmistakable.
His entire body trembled with anticipation, fire rolling just beneath the surface of his human skin. Fingers changing as he dug claws into the stone without realizing it, fissures cracking outward beneath his hands.
"Primordial village," he whispered, the word tasting sweet and sharp on his tongue.
Down below, the people moved in and out of the huts, some carrying baskets of food, others tending the fires. Ordinary enough to the eye but to Mike they burned like beacons.
Every breath of theirs carried that essence he craved.
Every heartbeat echoed like a drum summoning him closer.
His grin widened until it split his face, his teeth bared in the glow of the moon.
Bahamut stirred in his skull, a low rumble of amusement.
"You feel it, hatchling. The ancient ones. Even in their hiding they have much more divinity than the insects you've fought. This is what you seek. This is what you must devour."
Mike's body ached with the urge to leap, to tear, to set the valley alight in blood and fire. His hands flexed, his chest burned. The hunger roared inside him, and he knew, this was no mistake. He had found one of their villages.
His lips curled into a growl, half laugh, half snarl. "Finally."
He crouched lower on the cliff, muscles twitching, eyes fixed on the unsuspecting village below. The smoke curled upward like a beacon, the air so thick with promise he could almost taste it.
And in that moment, the last dragon smiled like a predator on the edge of the kill.