Mike's laughter rattled the night sky, a cracked, blood-choked chorus of fire and hunger, a sound that warped the night itself. His claws dug into Quetzalcoatl's body, tearing scales and feather, spilling blood across the jungle below. The serpent writhed, screaming as the skies split with their brutal battle.
"Kill the feathered snake!" Bahamut roared.
Then, through the chaos, came a sound.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Mike's head snapped sideways, eyes narrowing into slits.
Mephistopheles sat upon his obsidian chair as if the night sky were a theater stage made for him alone. His hat cast shadows across his sharp grin, his cane tapping rhythmically against his leg. He looked like a man enjoying fine wine at a gladiator pit.
"Marvelous," the demon purred, silver tongue rolling every syllable. "Simply marvelous, Michael. I applaud your talent for brutality."
"Vile poisonous bat, beware of him. He does not go away." Bahamut growled
Mike's body swelled with heat. A low growl rolled up from his chest, rising, building, until his throat convulsed with fire. With a roar that cracked the jungle canopy, he unleashed a torrent of crimson flame straight toward the grinning demon.
Mephistopheles didn't flinch. At the last instant, he tipped his cane and stepped sideways into a circle of black fire that split the air itself. The flames tore through where he had been, scattering embers and molten shards across the clouds. The demon emerged behind Mike, the portal snapping shut in his wake. He resumed clapping, each strike of his hands mockery.
"Now, now," he chuckled, voice dripping with venomous delight. "That was not very nice, Michael. I only came to cheer for you."
Mike snarled, his lips peeling back over crimson-stained fangs. His wings snapped once, hard, to launch him forward again. He would not waste another breath on Mephistopheles. His hunger and joy demanded more blood.
Quetzalcoatl hissed, voice trembling with fury. "You desecrate me, hatchling. You devour like that foul monster you pretend to be! You are no dragon. You are plague!"
Mike answered with laughter, savage and unbroken. His claws ripped through Quetzalcoatl's chest, prying loose another length of flesh. He tore it free and bit down, swallowing before the serpent's blood had time to cool. The meat burned in his throat, coursing through his veins, healing cuts across his scales with searing heat. His body pulsed, every wound knitting shut faster than the serpent could make them.
Quetzalcoatl shrieked, his emerald fire lashing weakly from his maw. The beam struck Mike's chest and sputtered across scales. Mike plowed through it, laughing, jaws snapping shut around one of Quetzalcoatl's feathered wings. With a violent shake, he ripped a dozen feet of flesh and quill free. Blood showered the canopy, painting leaves red.
The serpent writhed, wings thrashing, coils snapping around Mike's torso. He dragged the dragon downward, smashing both of their bodies into the jungle. Trees split like matchsticks. Stone shattered.
Mike's roar rose above it all. He ripped free from the serpent's coils, gouging long crimson trenches across Quetzalcoatl's body as he tore loose. His jaws closed around the serpent's throat, his fangs sinking deep, his body thrumming as hot blood spilled into him. He swallowed greedily, scales glowing brighter with every gulp.
Mephistopheles leaned forward in his chair, eyes alight. "Yes… yes… gorge yourself, dragon. Feast upon the false god. Paint the jungle with blood and entrails. Show all divine what they should fear!"
Mike bellowed laughter, his maw dripping gore. He slammed Quetzalcoatl against the ground, clawing chunks of flesh from his body, devouring them in great tearing bites. Bones cracked between his teeth, blood sprayed across his chest, the jungle drowned in their slaughter.
The serpent's voice shook, no longer proud thunder but ragged desperation. "No… no! I am eternal! I am guardian of these skies!"
His body thrashed, trembling. But his strength faltered. Each wound he took grew wider, blood pouring, feathers falling like snow to the ground around them, turning red in the pools of blood from his wounds.
Mike was relentless. His laughter grew louder, sharper, manic. He bathed in the serpent's suffering, felt divinity pour into his veins with every swallowed piece of flesh. His fire burned hotter, his wings grew larger, while his body became stronger.
Quetzalcoatl tried to coil, tried to crush, but his body betrayed him. His wounds would not close. His flesh did not heal. Every time Mike tore into him, more of his strength was stolen, consumed, devoured.
The serpent's eyes locked on Mike's, blazing emerald fire dimming. "Hatchling… you are a curse."
Mike only laughed harder, spitting gore from his teeth before sinking his jaws deeper into the serpent's chest. He ripped loose a massive slab of meat, swallowed it whole, and howled his joy into the storm.
The jungle trembled around them. Blood ran between the trees and covered the ground.
Quetzalcoatl slowed. His voice faded. His wings drooped. His coils loosened. He bled from a dozens of wounds, his strength draining with every mouthful Mike consumed.
And still Mike did not stop. He tore, he fed, he laughed. Above them, Mephistopheles clapped, his laughter rising in perfect harmony with the dragon's.
The Feathered Serpent was being eaten alive. The battle was no longer, It was now a feast.
Quetzalcoatl's massive coils began to convulse, his wings grew still, ragged and dripping with blood. His emerald fire guttered, each blaze weaker than the last. Mike tore another hunk of flesh free from the serpent's side, swallowing it down with a roar of triumph.
The feathered serpent thrashed once more in desperation, slamming his tail into Mike's chest, but the dragon only laughed, a wild, maniacal sound. Quetzalcoatl's cries shifted from fury to something else: the ragged, desperate sound of a beast who knew its end was near.
Mike's laughter didn't falter. He wrenched another strip of scaled flesh free, fire boiling between his teeth as he roared into the serpent's face.
Quetzalcoatl's voice came as a rasp, broken by pain:
"Monster… you will… destroy the world…"
Mike crushed the serpent's words beneath another bite, fire exploding from his maw as he threw Quetzalcoatl's massive mangled body. The serpent smashed into the jungle, trees splintering, stone shattering, earth heaving beneath the weight of his landing. The feathered wings sagged, dripping blood into the broken forest.
Walking towards his prey slowly, drenched in gore, Mike's chest heaved with savage joy. His eyes burned with the hunger of the fight, his lips curled back in a bloody grin.
Slow, mocking applause echoed behind him.
Mephistopheles sat lazily in his obsidian chair atop nothing, the throne balanced on air as though the laws of reality bent for him. His smile was wide, sharp, infuriating. He clapped once, twice more, as if savoring a performance.
"Beautiful," the demon purred. "Absolutely beautiful. A dragon, devoured in its own domain. You do make me proud, Michael."
Mike's head whipped toward him, fire boiling in his chest, but Mephistopheles only leaned forward, eyes glinting with wicked delight.
"Go on then," he taunted softly, voice cutting through the smoke and blood. "Michael, that's simply a vessel with transformative abilities like you. I bet Quetzalcoatl's divine seed is close. Be persuasive and he may show you."
"Hatchling, find and devour that snake's divinity. Then kill that bat." Bahamut growled.
Below, Quetzalcoatl writhed weakly, wings twitching, his emerald eyes dimming as the life was slowly bleeding out of him.
The serpent was barely clinging to life and Mephistopheles was smiling as he watched the battle of dragons come to a close.