Every step Mike took through the Amazon was met with the sound of life shifting in fear around him. Birds fell silent. Insects fled. The humidity clung to his skin as he pushed deeper through the overgrowth, vines snapping beneath his hands. His skin glistening with sweat and blood that wasn't all his. The forest itself seemed to bend away from him as if it knew what walked within it no longer belonged to the world of men.
Bahamut's voice rolled through his mind like thunder over distant mountains. "You waste time, hatchling. The world stirs. Events are unfolding. Hurry."
Mike's jaw tightened. "Then tell me where they are. I am hunting like you advised."
The dragon's rumbling laughter filled his chest. "You are a predator now. Hunt them down quickly. Did you learn nothing from the trial?"
Mike growled low in his throat and pressed forward. The roots beneath his feet twisted, the earth trembling faintly as his presence grew heavier. The smell of rain and iron filled the air.
Mike looked forward irritated. "I smell a large amount of blood."
"Then go to the source and find your prey."
He did not respond. Instead, he ducked under a curtain of hanging vines and stepped into a small clearing. The air here was different. Thicker. The faint copper tang of blood reached his nose before he saw the source.
A pile of bodies lay in the center of the clearing, stacked like discarded offerings. The corpses gleamed beneath the filtered sunlight, their armor made of polished gold and colored feathers stained with blood. Flies buzzed around them, and the smell was heavy enough to sting his eyes.
Sitting atop the pile was Mephistopheles.
The demon looked perfectly at home, legs crossed, top hat tilted just so, his gloved fingers drumming lazily on a golden helmet. His grin was wide enough to show too many teeth.
"Michael!" Mephistopheles spread his arms as if greeting an old friend. "My favorite dragon in the flesh. Do you like my little arrangement? Took quite some effort to prepare a proper feast."
Mike's eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Oh, come now," Mephistopheles said, feigning hurt. "You wound me. I merely provided an opportunity. You like opportunities, don't you?"
Binyai appeared from a shimmering portal on Mike's shoulder, his small monkey form clutching onto his skin. "He's lying again. Those are the Incan chosen soldiers. The demon set you up for a large battle, Mike. He's drawn attention from every god still clinging to this continent."
Mephistopheles chuckled, adjusting his hat. "Drawn attention? No, dear Binyai, I've simply… accelerated destiny. Our dragon friend needs to feed if he wishes to face what's coming. Consider this my generous contribution to his growth."
Mike's claws flexed. "You're enjoying this."
"Of course," the demon said with a grin sharp enough to cut glass. "I've arranged an extravagant feast for you, Michael. I do hope you'll make it entertaining."
He tapped his cane against one of the golden armor wearing corpses, and the air shimmered with smoke. The next instant, Mephistopheles was gone, dissolved into a wisp that vanished into the dark canopy above.
The jungle fell silent.
Then the drums began.
Low and rhythmic, echoing from somewhere deep in the forest. The sound rolled through the trees like an ancient heartbeat. Mike's nostrils flared as the scent of sweat, oil, and blood thickened.
Figures emerged from the shadows.
Dozens at first, then hundreds. Men and women dressed in brilliant golden primitive armor and feathers, their faces painted with crimson and obsidian. They carried obsidian-edged blades, spears tipped in glowing metal, shields carved with sun and lightning motifs. Their armor reflected flashes of sunlight as they closed in around him.
At their head stood a man wreathed in lightning.
The chosen of Illapa.
His skin was bronzed, his eyes pale blue and glowing faintly with electricity. A great headdress of eagle feathers crowned his head, and his armor pulsed with energy that hummed through the air. Each breath he took crackled, the ground beneath him scorched with residual lightning.
"I remember you," Mike said, his tone low and cold. "You're one of the cowards who ran."
The chosen's expression hardened. "I did not run. I was commanded to return and prepare. The gods will not forgive what you have done."
Mike laughed, the sound rolling like thunder across the clearing. "Then let them come."
"I am Illapa's storm," the man said, raising his hands to the sky. "And I will end the dragon's corruption."
Lightning split the clouds above as the sky roared in answer.
Bahamut's voice rumbled deep in Mike's mind. "End this quickly. The bat delays your path for his amusement. Do not let him slow you."
Mike's lips curved into a feral smile. "I know."
The air exploded.
The first bolt of lightning came down like a spear, striking Mike square in the chest and driving him into the dirt. The ground split open, light and heat burning through the clearing. The Incan warriors roared as they charged forward, weapons raised.
Mike rose from the crater before the light had even faded. Smoke curled from his skin, his eyes glowing molten gold as he transformed his hands with claws emerging from his fingers. He opened his mouth and a torrent of flame erupted forth, sweeping across the front lines and turning the first wave of soldiers to ash.
Golden armor melted. Feathers ignited. The scent of burning flesh filled the air.
Mike moved through them like a hurricane. His claws tore through metal, bone, and flesh. Every strike was brutal and efficient, his body twisting and slamming with brutal force. An Incan spear shattered against his ribs; he caught the warrior by the throat and bit down, tearing the man's head clean off.
Flames rolled out from him in waves. The trees ignited, their branches glowing like molten veins in the night. Warriors fell, screaming, their armor fusing to their skin as Mike ripped through their ranks.
Each body he consumed filled him with a small warmth. His wounds closed instantly. His strength grew in minimal amounts.
"Only devour to heal. Those weaklings provide no gain. Devour the chosen." Bahamut roared.
The chosen of Illapa struck again, lightning lancing through the smoke and slamming into Mike's back. The blast sent molten soil flying, but when the dust cleared, Mike was already standing. His body smoked, scales pushing through skin in jagged patches of black and crimson.
"You are weak," Mike growled.
The chosen gritted his teeth, calling down another bolt. "You are no god. You are a beast."
Mike grinned, flames flickering between his teeth. "I eat gods."
He vanished in a blur. The next instant, his fist connected with the chosen's jaw, sending the man flying through a tree. The trunk splintered and crashed as lightning flared around them both. The chosen rolled to his feet, his body crackling with electricity as he summoned a spear of pure light.
He lunged forward. Mike caught the weapon mid-strike, the shaft burning his palm, but he didn't flinch. With a snarl, he yanked the chosen closer and drove his knee into his stomach. The man doubled over with a wheeze before Mike slammed him into the dirt hard enough to crater it.
All around them, the battle raged. Incan warriors continued to charge only to be engulfed by flame or torn apart by the shockwaves from their duel.
Bahamut's voice boomed again, deeper now, vibrating through the air. "Kill them all, hatchling. Stop wasting time and toying with the weak."
Mike's eyes flashed. He grabbed the chosen by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Lightning surged from the man's body, striking Mike across the face and chest, but the dragon barely reacted.
He bit down.
The chosen screamed as Mike's teeth tore into his shoulder, blood spraying across the dirt. The lightning faltered. Mike's body glowed brighter, his veins burning with a faint golden light. He threw the man down and pinned him with one clawed hand.
The chosen's eyes flickered. The sky above cracked again, thunder roaring so loud it shattered branches. Lightning poured down, striking both of them in a blinding flash. For a moment, the world was pure light.
When it faded, Mike still stood. Smoke curled from his back. His eyes were wild, his grin wide and sharp.
The chosen lay broken beneath him, his armor split, lightning flickering weakly around his body.
Mike crouched. "Weak."
He opened his mouth as he transformed his head and consumed him whole.
The air shimmered as the chosen's power flooded into him. Thunder rolled once more before fading into silence. The last echoes of battle died with it.
The clearing was a wasteland of charred earth and molten gold. The corpses of hundreds of warriors lay twisted and burning, their feathers turned to ash. The jungle hissed as rain began to fall, steam rising in great plumes.
Bahamut's deep growl rumbled through Mike's mind again. "Keep moving. Go now!"
Mike exhaled, flames rolling from his mouth in a long hiss. His body pulsed with new power. "I'm going. I'll get that fucking Mephistopheles when I see him again."
Binyai appeared again on his shoulder, his golden eyes watching the burning forest. "The demon won't stop, Mike. Every god you kill draws more of them to you. He's turning the world into a stage."
Mike's expression darkened. He turned away from the ruins of the Incan army and began running deeper into the jungle. The smoke rose behind him like a black pillar, the ground still smoldering under his feet.
The jungle parting before him as the rain began to fall harder, washing the blood from his skin.
And far above, hidden within the storm clouds, Mephistopheles' laughter echoed faintly through the thunder.