Spike shivered as he stared around at the cold wind, falling ash, and white mountains surrounding him as the portal closed behind him. "Okay, Spike," he murmured to himself. "You can do this. Discord dragged you into this game of his...so Twilight, Rarity, and the others are counting on you to do your part. You can win! You feel great! You! Can! Do-"
An echoing howl cascaded over the white landscape.
"I want my mommy!" Spike yelled out in terror, diving forward and burying himself under the nearest pile of ash, shivering in fear.
He remained there in hiding for a while before getting ahold of himself. "N-no," he stammered softly. "I...I can't just hide and hope someone rescues me. Discord said...if everyone doesn't play, we lose. I...I have to stand on my own two feet." Carefully, he pushed himself up, shaking the ash off his body. Gritting his teeth, he took a few steps forward.
A sudden battle cry startled him into falling back onto his tail as a spectral image of an armored figure with a full beard charged him, swinging a bronze spiked warhammer. Spike barely rolled out of the way of the first strike, only for the figure to charge again. Unsure what else to do, Spike desperately exhaled a blast of fire at the figure.
The specter vanished as the flame overwhelmed it, the warhammer falling to the ground beside Spike with a dull thud. The weapon was nearly as tall as Spike, but he knew he needed something to defend himself with. Ash had gotten into his throat when he breathed out his fire, leaving him in a coughing fit. Managing to pick the warhammer up, he used it as a cane as he slowly marched his way forward, uncertain where he was supposed to go.
The specter was not the last thing to confront Spike. Beasts made of the ash that swirled all around rose up to fight him, forcing him to defend himself. Desperately, he swung the hammer at them as they rose, and only occasionally managing to land a blow. Despite this, he pushed onward.
They're counting on me... he mentally repeated as he pushed onward. I can't let them down. Maybe I've never been able to do anything before. Maybe all I could be for Twilight before now was an assistant. Just a useless little lizard that does as much damage as help he provides...don't know why she puts up with me... As a much larger creature rose, Spike's eyes narrowed to slits. But now it all counts on me! If one of us falls, we all fail. I won't let her down! I won't let any of them down! I WILL NOT FALL! A roar ripped its way out of his throat as he leapt into the air towards the attacking monster. His hands felt hot...and suddenly his green fire surrounded the warhammer, and the flame discharged into the creature on impact, destroying it.
Spike landed heavily, breathing hard as he held the warhammer in both hands, staring ahead. Once again, he brought out a mantra to encourage himself. "I can win. I feel great. I. Can. Do. This!" With this firmly in mind, he marched resolutely forward.
He was...pretty sure he was going the right way.
Spike lost all track of time as he marched up one mountain and down the next, using the hammer he clutched to smash the monsters that rose in his path. Each time he faced a monster, it went down easier. Each time he swung the hammer, it felt more natural in his arms. Each time the fire blazed forth, it came more easily and burned brighter. As he fought through, not all monsters were featureless or spectral. Some had armor, and when he bested them he scavenged what he could for himself from them. By the time he crested the tallest mountain, he'd managed to scavenge a horned helmet, a breastplate he'd tied on, and a shield he'd hammered out to strap to his tail, both for defense and to add harder blows from there.
As he crested the last mountain, a new figure awaited him. At first sight, he thought it might be an orc from Ogres & Oubliettes. The green skin, the pointed ears, the protruding fangs, the metal armor and heavy club... However, it didn't act like an orc. As he approached, it bowed to him. Unsure what else to do, Spike bowed back.
With a howling war cry - the same one that had scared Spike when he'd first arrived - the figure charged. Spike steeled himself. He may only come a quarter of the way up the creature's torso including the horns on his helmet, but he would not back down. Letting out his own roaring battle cry, he charged in and brought his hammer up, blocking the club swing. As the creature lifted the club to strike again, Spike spun around. His armored tail slammed into the creature's knee, making it stumble. Reversing the spin, Spike slammed his warhammer into the creature's head, sending it tumbling to the ground. He then lifted his hammer, ready to finish the battle.
"Enough," a gravelly voice ordered calmly, the power in it freezing Spike in place.
The figure Spike had been fighting rubbed its head as it got to its feet. Smirking, the figure saluted Spike jocularly before marching off, leaving Spike to turn to the source of the voice.
The man that stood there bore some resemblance to the figure that had left...but he wore no armor, and a huge wound cut across his chest from his waist, raw and putrefied. "I am Malacath, Mal Dovah," he greeted calmly and respectfully. "What brings you to my Realm?"
Spike swallowed convulsively, clutching his warhammer. Despite his former bravado, every instinct in his mind and heart screamed at him that he could not defeat this being as he was. "I...Discord...I mean..."
Malacath sighed. "Ah, you come from his world, pursuant to his game," he murmured, kneeling down to be at eye level with Spike. "I saw you enter, and did not believe one so small as you could get here on your own. I've watched your progress."
Spike's eyes lowered. "Not very impressive, I know..." he muttered, letting the head of the hammer drop, holding it limply at his side.
"What makes you think that?" Malacath inquired curiously.
"Just look at me!" Spike spoke out harshly, the compulsion in Malacath's words dragging out the pain he'd long kept inside. "I'm a dragon, one of the most powerful, dangerous creatures of my world...but I'm tiny! I grew up among ponies, but no matter how hard to try to fit in, I can never be a pony! I see it in their eyes that I'm different, that no matter how hard I try I'll never quite belong. And the one other dragon I've ever met? I tried to connect, and he tried to crush me! Can't fit in among ponies, won't fit in amongst dragons..."
"An outcast in your own mind," Malacath murmured comfortingly. "No wonder Discord sent you here. But why do you feel that makes you useless?"
"Just look at me!" Spike wailed out, fire shooting from his nostrils as his anger got the better of him. "I'm just a baby dragon! I can't even act as an assistant librarian without torching books without meaning to! Twilight should have just replaced me with that owl and left it at that!" In rage and pain, he hurled the hammer from him. To his shock, it slammed into a nearby boulder and shattered it explosively.
With a wide smile, Malacath walked over to the gravel and lifted the now glowing warhammer, bringing it back to Spike. "You do not look like an infant to me, Mal Dovah," he offered calmly, holding the warhammer out to him.
Confused, Spike reached to take the warhammer, finding it much smaller than he remembered it being. "Did...did this shrink?" he asked in confusion.
Malacath chuckled softly. "No," he corrected, raising a mirror from the ashes. "It is not the weapon that has changed."
Spike stared at his reflection in shock and awe. He was easily two feet taller, nearly as tall as Princess Luna. The hammer sat lightly in his hands, his arms and legs leanly muscled, his tail thick and thrashing, his armored chest broader than before. With the helm atop his head, horns curled, he looked...
"I see a warrior who has come into his own," Malacath stated calmly. "An outsider who has fought for his place, and will fight to protect it...and those he cares for. I see one who will one day be a leader worthy of Volendrung, which has found its way into his hands."
Spike stared down at the warhammer in his hands. "Volendrung?" he asked in confusion.
"The weapon of the leader of the Rourken clan of the Dwemer," Malacath explained. "The one that guided them to their homeland. And now, it will guide you to those you care for, Mal Dovah."
To Spike's surprise, a portal opened up behind Malacath, leading to a new land. Spike let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he replied warmly, racing for the portal. He then paused, turning back. "And the name's Spike!" he called out before diving through.
Malacath chuckled as he turned a particular stone over and over in his hands, feeling the power it had absorbed from being so handled for so long. "I shall remember that name, Mal Dovah...Spike."