Freedom Fighter’s eyes slowly opened. He blinked hard. Once, twice. What happened? He remembered the eruption...
His vision was black, except for glowing orange light coming from all angles. It smelled poisonous. The ground was sharp and uneven beneath his chest, and Freedom had to sweep away some loose pebbles beneath him before he tremblingly got to all fours.
He looked around. The ground was erratically gashed just a few feet away. Smoke rose from it, as well as similar gashes and cracks further away in every direction. There were also periodically placed holes filled with glowing, hot lava, ranging from the size of puddles to ponds or pools. Streams of bubbling, thin lava fed them and interconnected various pools together.
The ground was as if someone froze the sea, then cracked it all open to expose the fiery blood of the planet beneath. It had to be that volcano they were fighting over. Or rather, what remained of it.
Freedom Fighter had to squint, both because it was dark and because the smoke burned his eyes. There was a shuffle in the distance, of many moving legs.
Freedom Fighter sighed, but he straightened himself and shook his head to clear it. Combat ready!
"Oh, Unforgiven," came a hiss in the air. It was like an owner calling for their dog. "Where are you? Come out and play."
Freedom Fighter crouched low and stuck close to the small chasm's edge. If he gave no indication he was there, he could perhaps sneak up on him.
"Don't think you can elude me," Malice warned. His crackling symphony of footfalls creeped ever closer. Freedom Fighter, after a moment of hesitation, hung onto the edge and lowered himself about a foot down into the chasm. It was all he could go down before it grew too thin. He stayed there, hunched in half, pressing his back into the wall.
"I can feel your presence," Malice's wispy voice let him know. It was louder than before. "Taste you in the air. So close, so close. I know you're trying to ambush me."
Freedom Fighter's heart beat loudly in his chest. He wondered for a wild moment if Malice could hear that.
"But I've already won," Malice gently said. "Haven't you looked into the distance? My God and king has woken up. He now marches across the earth. His form is even better than I imagined it would be."
"He's bluffing," Freedom Fighter whispered. It was a vain attempt to convince himself. What reason did he have to lie?
“It means Twilight Sparkle has done what I could not,” his infuriating voice oozed next. “She has summoned him.”
"Impossible!" Freedom whispered in shock. Twilight would never! Not unless she had some plan to kill him.
There was a pause in Malice's voice after the word escaped him. Freedom mentally kicked himself for the mistake.
There came a heavy sniff from the outside. Freedom Fighter was trembling.
"So." There was a sickening wet slurp, a licking of lips. "You've grown close to the princess. Your feelings for her are... strong. Perhaps even stronger than your hate for me."
He said it as if it was a foreign concept. Love was something he couldn't understand.
"And look where you are now. Look at all the good love has done for you in the end, Unforgiven. Neither of you deserves it anyway. Look at what you've done with it. You're cowering like a rat in a hole, and she twisted love to fit her own ends."
She didn't! She didn't!
“Haven’t you felt it?” Malice taunted. “When you hold her close, doesn’t she seem cold? The dark path she has walked has twisted her mind, enslaving her to evil purposes.” Malice seemed all around him. "Hazy fog clouds her head. Either she doesn't know what she's doing… or she knows exactly what she's doing."
It was something Freedom Fighter had not wanted to admit to himself. She seemed to be doing just fine! She couldn't have just...
“Perhaps you have not turned to serve our father.” Malice deliberately paused. His underside was crossing the chasm, directly above Freedom's head. “But something tells me she has.”
He couldn't take it any more.
"NEVER!" he bellowed, igniting his entire body into a golden aura. With a push against the wall, he rocketed out and into the creature's underside, sending the two of them flying.
Malice curled up like a pillbug, trapping Freedom Fighter inside the curve like he was in a hollow tire. Gripping him with at least four stubby rear legs, Malice flipped, straightened out, and pushed him away simultaneously.
Freedom Fighter was flung as if from a trebuchet. He hurled through the hot air for one, two, three seconds before his back struck something hard that made his limbs flail and his nerves go numb. Freedom Fighter slid down the slope of a rock before dropping off it, hitting the ground, and rolling to a stop.
He picked his head up in time to see Malice's ghostly form swooping down. Freedom scrambled to all fours, but Malice collided with him once again and yanked him up by a rear leg, leaving him hanging upside down.
Freedom Fighter tried to curl up to pry apart the claws holding him there, but it was all useless. Malice held him at arm's length. His long fangs were completely exposed in glee.
Malice brought his arm up, then chopped it back down. Freedom Fighter's head hit the ground with terrible force. He began to feel numb.
Malice brought his arm up once more and swirled it behind him, slamming Freedom Fighter hard into the ground again. Blood ran from his face and discolored the ground.
Malice then swiped Freedom Fighter hard against the rock he had hit before. It was like he was whipping around a wet rag, and it certainly sounded like it, too. A red smear marked Freedom Fighter’s path.
Malice finally roared and hurled Freedom Fighter far away from him like a garbage bag. Freedom Fighter limply flew for a few seconds before striking the ground and rolling to a stop amid uneven, jagged rocks, carving up his back into raw meat.
There was a popping river of glowing lava only a few feet behind him, down a small, grainy slope. Its heat was enough to curl and singe the hair on his coat.
Freedom Fighter lifted his bloody head up once again. Malice was taking his time on his scuttling legs, deathly pale despite being stained.
Malice looked disgraceful. His wings were bent at uneven angles. Several of his main long legs were missing. The entire left side of his face was dark with blood and empty. His bared mouth had missing fangs, and his horns were scratched and punctured and perforated. But a triumphant smile was on those bloody gums after all.
“Even with your precious stone, I prove the victor,” Malice boasted in a sinister, high hiss.
Freedom Fighter tried to rise on all fours, but a rock on the slope broke away. He slipped and slid further down, almost directly touching the fiery river. It already felt like he was on fire.
“You’re pathetic,” Malice noted. “You were the one Faust gave my birthright to?” He chuckled. “You were the chosen one. You were supposed to avenge your people, not die with them.”
One of his legs extended itself sickeningly and pressed itself against Freedom Fighter’s bloody forehead. It inexorably pushed, and despite Freedom Fighter’s pained efforts, he was pushed down until the tips of his hooves entered the lava river.
Freedom Fighter screamed so loudly, he felt like his vocal chords would tear again. He scrabbled at the black bank, but the cruel leg pressing on his face was stronger. His limbs seemed to melt away, and his legs caught on fire, which traveled slowly up his flesh.
“Perish, you nightmare,” Malice declared, beetling his remaining eyes.
“MALICE!” came a terrible bellow. Malice and Freedom Fighter both looked up in surprise.
A green dragon was flying like a falling meteor, and screaming like one, too. He collided into Malice and sent the two of them tumbling on the broken ground.
Freedom Fighter blinked in surprise. Who was this guy?
Taking the opportunity, Freedom Fighter scrabbled back up the gentle slope of the bank, gripped the crumbly lip of the rock, and pulled himself up. His teeth were gritted so hard, he was afraid of breaking them. His arms felt unresponsive at first, but the more he pressed his failing body, the more it sullenly obeyed.
Finally, he scooted over the edge and rolled onto his chest on the relatively safer ground. Some more rolling later, and the flames on the back of his legs extinguished.
Freedom Fighter’s vision was failing and fuzzy, but if he squinted, he could just make out the shade of green slamming down on a mass of flailing white limbs.
An urge to help him out came over him, but perhaps getting involved here would cause more harm than good.
And besides, a moment to regenerate his legs would be nice...
Cinder wailed on Malice’s face over and over again, pounding with his fists and screaming at the top of his lungs. Amazingly, Malice seemed more surprised than hurt.
“Why did you betray us?” Cinder demanded, smashing both fists into his snout. “I want answers!”
Two of Malice’s spindly legs shoved Cinder off him and sent him stumbling a few steps before he landed on his butt. All of Malice’s legs were adjusting themselves on the uneven surface, and as Malice stood up, he finally got a good look at him. The left side of his face was dark and empty, and discolored with dried blood. His bony, thin wings were spread out like ghoul's fingers. Malice, the freak of nature, towered far above Cinder, and he was illuminated sinisterly by the glow of lava at their feet.
“I knew I should have killed you,” Malice regretted.
Cinder’s bloodshot eyes boiled with anger. He launched himself at Malice, giving a wide swing at his head. Malice irritably batted him aside, and Cinder rolled to a stop just before going over a glowing pit.
“Now, about you,” Malice said, turning to the smoking body of Freedom Fighter as if Cinder had never appeared in the first place.
“Hey!” Cinder yelled, getting to his feet and putting up his dukes. “Where do you think you’re going? Come back over here and fight like a real dragon!”
Malice pondered on that. Then he let out a deep, dark laugh.
“I was never a real dragon to begin with,” Malice revealed.
“What?” Cinder breathed. “But your wings--your horns! You breathe fire!”
“Dark magic, brother,” he said mockingly. “Perhaps I had one from the bowels of Tartarus, but when he killed it, I put his remains to good use. You should be honored to know I might do the same to you.”
Cinder growled and spread his wings. “Not if I rip you apart first!”
“You are adorable.”
“Murderer!” Cinder screamed, launching himself at Malice once more. The instant he was within arm’s reach, he swiped at his head, and continued to do so with every word. “Traitor! I trusted you! And you used me! I’ll kill you!”
A single sharp claw rocketed into Cinder’s mouth. Two teeth flew out, trailing blood like comets.
“I’m ready when you are,” Malice mocked.
Cinder tumbled in the air, slowly righting himself. His eyes were wild with unhinged fury.
“Where were we?” Malice wondered, turning back to Freedom Fighter. “Don’t want to leave you smoking for too long. I feel in the mood for a medium rare.”
Cinder screamed once more and rocketed into the back of Malice’s head. Cinder’s claws scratched at the thick curve of Malice’s horn. And his wounded mouth gnawed on the exposed bone just for good measure.
Malice winced, rolling his eyes. “Get off, you pest!”
He shook his head side to side, up and down, then swirled his head in a circle, and Cinder flew off. But he already puffed right beside him and whacked him in the snout as hard as he could. Once, twice, three times, then grabbed onto his flared nostrils and yanked him higher up into the air.
Malice batted him out of the air and hovered there on his wounded wings haphazardly. His eyes narrowed as Cinder came in for another pass.
“I’ll kill you!” Cinder repeated in a higher shriek, stretching out his arm for another punch.
Malice evaded the punch with ease. Simultaneously, he thrust his claw as hard as he could.
The limb passed through his chest like a knife through butter. A spray of blood accompanied the claw passing out of his back, bisecting his spine between the disks.
Cinder gasped, coughed, and threw up bile. Blood dribbled from his lips. The claw deep inside his chest adjusted itself cruelly, and he hissed loudly.
The monstrous insect dismissively regarded him by tilting his head to the side. The remaining eyes on the right side of his face narrowed.
Cinder growled and clung to the arm holding him up, sliding his way slowly down until he could reach Malice’s elbow. With all the strength he could muster, he brought a fist up and pounded on the elbow pit. It reflexively brought Malice’s arm up like a catapult.
It also brought Cinder close to Malice’s suddenly-surprised face. Uncomfortably close.
His right arm burrowed into Malice’s bottom-left empty eye socket. His left arm dug into the still-filled bottom right eye.
Squish.
Malice roared as loud as the mountain had. He shook his red head wildly, billowing fire from his wide-open mouth. He curled backwards in anguish and roared again, thrashing his many long legs out. Malice fell like a stone to earth, slamming his back into the uneven rock and curling his legs reflexively.
Cinder gurgled a dying scream and opened his left hand, spreading his fingers wide. Then he clenched his fist, and his broken teeth, as tight as he could.
Red liquid and worse flooded from Malice’s eye socket. Malice screamed his heart out once again--he was getting hoarse--and tugged on Cinder’s body unsuccessfully. Then he just leaned back, opened his jaws, slithered his claw out from Cinder’s chest, and snapped his lower half out of the air.
There was a horrible crunch and tear, and Cinder finally died.
His two halves fell from Malice’s face and hit the rock with wet thuds. Malice furiously punted them as hard as he could, and they sailed away before rolling into a hot, glowing chasm not too far away.
Malice stumbled, clutching his entirely-bloodied face. He roared between every breath, sounding more like a dumb animal than any sentient creature. Runny blood had turned him from deathly pale to sickeningly red.
“Filth!” Malice bellowed. “Creature of filth!”
Freedom Fighter watched in fascination. A bit more time to heal!
His legs had mostly re-formed by now, but they were sensitive and hot to the touch. He couldn’t have imagined feeling so terrible ever again. If it weren’t for that stone, Freedom Fighter would most likely have died.
That stone… what exactly did it do? It impressed upon him, and he wasn’t sure why until he remembered what Malice had said earlier. Merging with a dragon using dark magic.
If Malice was a previous user of the Element of Sacrifice, which swore to protect its user from all harm by healing the body, then perhaps if it could see the dragon’s fusion as an unusual surgery-- especially by dark magic… it could reverse the process.
That could also heal his eyes, however. But despite working overtime to heal his legs, the cuts all over Freedom Fighter’s face weren’t healed yet. That meant the Element held some things as a higher priority. He needed to convince the Element that the dragon’s properties were worse to the body than a few missing eyes.
You can function without eyes or ears or limbs, he thought, and as he did, the stone in his head pulsed in acknowledgement. But living as an experiment is far worse than any amputation. He sacrificed his dragon. Perhaps we should rectify the problem.
Somehow, he figured the stone knew of his intention. It was his, after all.
Malice groaned with effort and shook his face, giving more involuntary screams. His many legs curled and uncurled, and he stomped uneasily over to Freedom Fighter, twisting and hissing. The sight put Freedom Fighter in a much better mood than before, and he decided to have a bit of fun with it.
“If you had a bit for every time a dragon gouged one of your eyes out today,” Freedom Fighter called out, “you’d have two bits. Which isn’t a lot. But it’s weird that it happened twice!”
“Might say the same… about your legs,” Malice hissed in reply.
Which still kinda hurt, by the way. They had to heal quickly. “Touche. What’s the matter, feeling touch-ay?”
“I will eat you alive,” Malice snarled.
Nothing new there. “Fine. I suppose you won’t get healed. My Element could do the trick. But nah, you don’t want to touch me since you’re feeling touchy. Huh.”
“You’re up to something,” Malice accused. “What’s your deal, scum?”
“It’s…” Freedom Fighter paused.
“I can’t trust you!” Malice shrieked. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t rip you apart!”
“My pride!” Freedom Fighter quickly admitted, cowering. “I couldn’t live with it if I only beat you because somepony else had a hand in it. Come on, Malice, let’s heal. We’re at an impasse. Let’s make use of this gift and clean ourselves up before beating each other up. How can either of us be truly proud of ourselves until we beat each other at full strength?”
Malice snorted. “You’re full of it.”
“Fine, be that way. Beat me, but live with the knowledge that we were at our worst. There will be some nagging doubt that perhaps I could have defeated you if everything wasn’t so skewed and my victory wasn’t handed to you on a silver platter.”
“You’re out of your mind!” Malice yelled. “I don’t care about your stupid pride! You are going to die!”
“Then live with that freakish body of yours. Live with those scars that mere mortals gave you. Live in the impotence of your pride, knowing that deep down, you can bleed. You can be killed. And you have the marks to prove it.”
That time, Malice gave pause. Neither combatant made any movement.
“It would be nice to see clearly again,” Malice murmured. “I don’t know what you’re really planning. But it won’t matter, since I’ll be strong enough to kill you.”
And Malice’s claws snapped around Freedom Fighter’s neck. The pony screamed, and the stone in his forehead pulsed.
“Yes,” Malice hissed, licking his bloody lips. “Give your strength to me! Remember your master!”
Both their bodies glowed golden-yellow. Freedom Fighter struggled against the spiny claws pressing into his neck, but Malice’s grip was tight. Energy flowed from one body into the other.
“Come on,” Malice insisted. “Come on, come on! Give me my sight!”
“Do you know how this works?” Freedom Fighter breathed. “I don’t think you do. You refused the gift. You don’t know how it works.”
Malice took his claw off Freedom Fighter’s throat. He growled low. “I feel strange. Like…” He gripped his head with many claws. “There’s something missing. Gnaaagh!”
“Hey,” Freedom Fighter said.
“What?” Malice irritably asked, turning his head.
“You must be hungry.”
Malice’s mouth twisted as he looked down at his multi-sectioned underside. “Maybe I am. Should have eaten that dragon. I’ll settle for you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you something.”
Malice blinked his remaining eye. “What?”
“Here, eat this.”
Malice’s mouth drooped open somewhat in confusion. He was holding up a rock. A rock? “Wha-”
But the rock in Freedom Fighter’s hoof was already smashing into his teeth. Blood rained from his raw gums.
Malice spat, lunged for the pony, and grabbed only thin air. Freedom Fighter had bounded between his skittering legs and rolled away under his opposite end.
Malice swore and snapped his body completely backwards with a series of pops and crackles, twitching his stubby and bony legs to fit into their new directions.
Freedom Fighter had disappeared. Malice swiveled his head one way, then the other. “Oh, are we playing dirty, my little pony?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” came Freedom Fighter’s voice. Malice couldn't pin it down. The rat must have scampered into another hole, and he wouldn't fall for the same trap as before.
“I should have known something was amiss!” Malice regretted, scuttling forward while curving backwards, his eyes scanning over his back. It was an eerie, unnatural sight, which was part of the reason Malice liked doing it. With only one working eye, however, Malice’s field of view was severely impaired. He kept talking. “Your sudden cooperativeness, your out-of-nowhere pride. You've never had anything to be proud of in your life! You never cared about any of this before! You would do anything to kill me, pride be damned!”
“You’re right,” Freedom Fighter's disembodied voice admitted. Malice strained to pinpoint its origin. “Just this once. Pride doesn't matter when you're trying to get something done. You of all creatures should understand that."
Was that an insult? "And now this roundabout of words! Clucking like a chicken before it's beheaded! What, are you taking full advantage of your tongue before I tear it out once again?"
"I just took a few lessons from Noble Blade's example. Have you ever noticed most ponies just don't look up?"
Feeling a terrible sense of trepidation, Malice inclined his head.
There was nothing there. Nothing but black skies.
"Of course, there's nothing up here this time. Gotcha. Man, you look like an idiot."
"What an elaborate cope!" Malice denounced, skittering in circles, focusing his final bloodshot eye as hard as he could on anything out of the ordinary. "Who are you trying to humiliate me in front of, Unforgiven? There is no one here but us!"
"I dunno, I'm sure Faust is pretty entertained. Pinkie showed me something. There always might be someone you aren't aware of out there."
"Show yourself!" Malice shrieked, igniting his horns into crackling white. "Or I will drown us both in fire!"
"Under normal circumstances, I'd feel inclined to refuse. However, since I can't have you go around blowing up mountains…"
And a spot of yellow light appeared over the edge of a small escarpment of black rock to Malice's left. It was the lip of the volcano's main shaft, on the edge of which a pony now stood. He was illuminated from behind with the vast reservoirs of lava yet waiting to pour forth. It tossed the front of him into a foreboding shadow.
Immediately, Malice fired a blast from his horns. Freedom Fighter jumped above the bolt, flipped in the air, and landed with enough force to crack the escarpment all the way down to the ground. Streams of lava shot through the crack and spattered on the uneven surface.
"Want to play that game?" Malice challenged, igniting his horns once again. This time, he aimed, not at the little pony, but the wall he was standing on.
Malice heaved with the effort to charge his magic, but he managed to let it go. The bolt of lightning struck the escarpment wall with all the force of a battering ram.
The wall burst forth with an explosion, sending Freedom Fighter tumbling down amidst a collapse of rocky rubble. Lava soon followed, creating an impromptu river.
He rolled to a stop just in front of a particularly large boulder. Behind it, the lava flow split to go around it before reforming some twenty feet downstream. It created a perilous island in the middle of the river of shimmering fire.
Freedom Fighter got to all fours in time to see Malice maneuver himself into the spot of land before it was entirely closed off by the newly-formed lava river. They were both trapped on all sides by the raging fire.
Malice snapped himself back to his normal orientation with a series of sickening pops and crackles. He was also bent over in pain, making him look like a capital S, but his twisted face betrayed only savage anger.
Freedom Fighter had no more mocking words to spout. No more threats to bluster. No more promises to make. Now was the time to deliver on them all.
Devil stared down pony. Grumbles rippled in both of their throats.
Malice lunged, and Freedom Fighter dove. His sharp claw lodged in the unstable earth only a few inches away from where the pony had been, and Freedom Fighter curled up against it and locked the joint. Then he yanked against his elbow as hard as he could, falling against the ground.
Malice shrieked and swiped the pony aside. Freedom Fighter went skidding a few feet, ending up far closer to the edge of the river than he wanted.
Malice's claw thrust itself like a spear again, and the only thing that saved Freedom Fighter was a swipe of his rear leg pushing it to the side. It lodged in the rock again, leaving his broad chest open to a piercing strike by the Unforgiven's other rear hoof.
Malice gasped. Then he snarled, curling his legs inward. But the Unforgiven had learned from experience. He somersaulted before they could crush him, going even further under Malice, and extended both his legs like a coiled spring into Malice's underbelly.
Malice was temporarily lifted off the ground. It wasn't really forceful, but just enough to make him flop unceremoniously on his side.
Freedom Fighter gripped the narrowest part of Malice's thrashing lower body and, heaving for breath, hoisted it in the air. Screaming from the effort, his muscles burning and pushed to their limit, he tugged with all his strength, whipping the ponderous Malice up like a fishing line, and brought it down, slamming the monster into the earth with enough force to throw up pebbles.
Enraged, Malice's stubby rear legs shot themselves into Freedom Fighter's chest, creating two puncture wounds that made Freedom stagger back. So much adrenaline was in Freedom Fighter's blood that it ran away from the surface of the skin.
The boulder blocking the flow of lava broke off some crumbs on the side to float downstream, narrowing the area they could fight in. Before Malice could get up adequately, he found three of his stubby legs enveloped by the sudden stream of lava.
Malice yelped and scrambled back from the growing stream with renewed panic. His legs were steaming, red, and raw. Not exactly regular flesh, but not exactly fireproof, either.
After unsuccessfully flexing the legs, he fixed Freedom Fighter with a look of terror. His remaining eye traveled to the viridescent Element of Sacrifice in the Unforgiven's forehead.
Freedom Fighter only smiled in return and beckoned with his hoof.
Malice's lips twisted. His nostrils flared. And his teeth rattled as a growl escaped him. He thrashed his way back to his remaining, shaking legs.
Malice reared up on the back six legs-- as little as was needed to keep him upright. His red body swayed in the air like a ship's mast. With a sick crackle, he extended the rest of them out like a peacock, making him look like a living, freshly-removed ribcage, with his huge head where the brainstem would be. A roar came from his gaping mouth full of broken fangs, throwing spit and blood.
Freedom Fighter charged at full speed.
Malice's body came down, all his arms curling in like a closing fist.
Mid-run, Freedom Fighter bent over and grabbed a loose boulder the size of his head with both hooves. Somersaulting again to build up momentum, he released the boulder at the end of his roll, sending it flying as if from a catapult.
It hit Malice in the face, shattering into half a dozen pieces due to its igneous nature. It didn't do nearly as much damage as Freedom Fighter hoped it would. Malice's arms still came down with an almighty crash. Freedom Fighter felt his front two arms snatched by two separate claws.
He was lifted up to Malice's eye level, who had reared back to his tallest form, meaning he was significantly higher off the ground than the last time this had happened. He was suspended from Malice's two main claws like a puppet, unable to move.
Malice's grin was wider and sicker than any he had given before. It was wet with blood and red-raw and missing teeth, but the desire in that smile was evil.
He whipped Freedom Fighter down to the ground without letting go, and he was much higher up than before. Freedom Fighter hit the ground hard enough to feel a bone snap, and his rotator cuffs felt like they were about to be pulled off like legs from a chicken.
But it wasn't his head this time. He could think. And Freedom Fighter knew how to turn the table.
Malice adjusted himself so he was facing the boiling orange river. Once and for all, Malice gurgled out a laugh and brought his arms over his head once more, intent on whipping the pony down into the lava.
As Freedom Fighter was lifted up, he swung himself upside down and twisted his hooves in Malice's sharp grip. It didn't work. He did it a second time, thrusting himself out and away, and the momentum finally let him go, his hooves bleeding from where Malice's claws had bit. He did it right before Malice's arms came down, so he was sort of floating in the air above Malice's head, his limbs outstretched. Then he curled himself in and came down.
Upon realizing Freedom Fighter was not in his grip after his arms came down, Malice, in fright, swiveled his head and tilted back to look up. His single eye widened.
He was just in time to see both of Freedom Fighter's back hooves launch out, assisted by gravity, and smash into the space between his darkened eyes.
Malice cried out in pain and stumbled.
On only six short legs, and this perilously reared up, Malice could not keep his balance.
He swayed back. He tilted. He reached a point of no return, and he uselessly windmilled all of his long, pale legs. Then he fell backwards in a spectacular splash into the flowing lava.
Freedom Fighter's legs were too weak to stick the landing. He crumpled to the ground on the strip of land that was noticeably thinner than at the start of the fight. But something drew his head up, and he tried to focus over all the noise.
The noise was Malice screaming in agony in the river of fire and brimstone. He lay there for a little bit, the lava running over him, into every orifice of his body, burning all the blood off him only to make it red again with burns. His body curled up and bent and shot its limbs into the air. Then the flow lifted him off the ground and carried him further downstream. His screams died down as he floated away.
Freedom Fighter watched him. Perhaps the Element hadn't had enough time to completely remove all aspects of the dragon mutation. But it at least made a notable dent in the fire resistance category.
He was sweating and panting for breath. His coat was shiny and sleek, marred by hard blood, and the salty sweat stung his wounds even as they gradually healed. The hot conditions certainly did not help any. And the ground was thinning out even more. The narrow strip of land was becoming smaller by the minute, and the boulder blocking the stream had already dislodged from its original position.
Freedom Fighter lifted his bleeding arm above his head and willed the stone to levitate him. His body glowed golden, and the rest of his hooves eventually left the ground as well. After getting used to the feeling of floating again, during which the rest of the island was consumed by lava as well, he leaned in the direction of Malice’s trip, and he sailed over.
The entire world seemed dark and dreary. Everywhere Freedom Fighter looked, there was smoke and fire, rock and lava. Freedom Fighter was not known for his taste in beauty, but a part of him wondered, Wasn’t the world supposed to be pretty?
If there would be a world by the time Solaris was done with it, of course.
A disturbance in the flow and a drawn-out scream caught his attention. Far below, there he was, still rolling and flailing uselessly, trying to scrape away the slimy stuff encasing his entire body. The lava stream was heading for the edge of the mountain. He could see the edge not too far away where it cut between two boulders.
Somehow, Freedom Fighter did not have any reservations about helping him out.
Malice’s struggling form hit the edge of the falls. After trying to grab ahold of the edge and failing, Malice tipped over and plummeted down the sharp edge of the mountain. Freedom Fighter quickly followed and hovered beside the volcano, quick to observe his path.
Malice, only identifiable by his shape, fell with the lava, down, down, down.
It wasn’t long before Malice struck an outcropping rock and caromed off it, diverting his path away from the lava falls. His limp form hit some more protruding parts of the mountain in quick succession, bouncing him from one edge to another, creating an avalanche of debris to accompany him.
Malice smashed into a particularly large boulder, dislodging some smaller pebbles and dust keeping it upright. As Malice fell, so did it, tumbling and bashing down.
Smash, bang, crash. Malice was losing momentum, but at the cost of his bones.
Finally, after half a dozen more collisions, Malice reached a large flat ledge only a hundred feet above the newly-formed lava sea created by the volcano’s eruption some time before. He landed on his stomach, his many limbs spread out.
Malice weakly raised his head. He wheezed for breath, struggling to rise.
Then came the debris. Rocks the size of a pony bounced to the side of him or off his back. The large boulder bounced down, struck Malice with enough force to break it into smaller, dustier pieces, and crushed three-quarters of Malice’s inert body. Finally, dust settled annoyingly on his head and rained all around him.
Malice could barely feel anything. There was just nothing left of him to feel pain anymore. He felt warm and wet beneath what was left of his stomach. The thought of it made him retch. He moaned as he panted for breath. His two remaining visible front legs twitched and pawed at the ground uselessly.
When Malice finally raised his head again, he saw the Unforgiven hovering in front of him.
Malice huffed and pushed against the ground, but he was stuck, and nothing could change that. After bending grotesquely upward, he screamed and fell back to earth.
“Though you are everything I hate, it almost makes me feel bad for leaving you here.” Freedom Fighter stomped to his flattened snout. "At the end of the universe, what will your legacy be?"
"What legacy do you have?" Malice weakly demanded, rising up slowly. "We were both chosen by our mother! We both sacrificed everything! You were just my replacement! An understudy. So why are you triumphant? And I am nothing?"
One pair of red eyes bore into the remaining eye of the other. Each of them were ringed with blood.
"I have my friends," Freedom Fighter eventually answered. "I have my agency. And I have fulfilled my destiny." He tapped the stone embedded in his forehead. "If you still haven't figured out why, you don't deserve to have this."
He turned away. "Farewell. Rot in this hell you dug for yourself."
"Mercy…"
It made him halt. His blood froze, then boiled in a new crescendo.
"Countless creatures said the same thing!" he bellowed, turning once more to the broken body of Malice. "How many of them did you spare?"
"Forgive… me."
"If this is a trick to test my generosity, you're failing it!" Freedom Fighter shouted, drowning out his weak words. "You think I'll ever forgive a devil like you?! Think, Malice! Think! I have outlasted every enemy to cross my path! I’ve taken your people and crumbled them into dust! Everything and everyone I knew before I came to Equestria was destroyed! What is preventing me from ending you?!"
Malice wheezed and scratched weakly at the ground. “Our mom…”
“What, do you actually think Faust would forgive you?” Freedom Fighter bellowed over his weak words before he could finish. “She’s not going to! Not for you! You can’t be forgiven! What’d be the point? The world'd be so much better if I just ripped you away. She’d love me for this. I’d get to rid the universe of your filth! Why shouldn’t you just DIE?”
He bent down and kicked him in the head. Then he stomped on his cheek, grinding it into the dirt.
Malice groaned and let his head hit the ground. “You… would make… a good Nox.”
Freedom Fighter paused, not taking his hoof off Malice’s cheek. The words had stung him more than any other wound, hurt him more than the lava had.
Freedom Fighter’s mind raced for answers, for some clear path to follow. He didn't want to vindicate Malice. Or become the thing he hated the most. But was that just him manipulating his emotions? Whose will was he following? Faust's? Solaris'? Or his own?
He couldn’t forgive him. He just couldn’t. Not after all he’d done. He’d never apologized for anything before. It wouldn’t be sincere. Faust would understand. She wouldn’t forgive him, even if he did.
But would that be something She’d do? It wasn’t as if Faust did not have the power to reform him. She had all power. If She really wanted to, She could. Freedom couldn’t possibly speak for how far Malice had gone, could he? Lest he be put out of favor with Faust himself.
Disregard it! some small part of him urged. That’s what Malice wants you to think! Those thoughts are brought about by devils!
But were they? What was good anymore? Some things seemed more true than others. What creed could he ally himself to?
Freedom Fighter’s every ounce of being trembled at the notion. It went against his mission, his passion, his reason for existing. But it was better safe than sorry.
He took his hoof off Malice’s bloody cheek. And he backed off several feet.
Malice groggily lifted his head, in some small surprise. “You…”
“I don’t want to hear another hiss out of your throat, you parasite,” Freedom Fighter spat. “I’m letting you live. That’s merciful enough for you?”
Malice, unwilling to speak, nodded his assent.
“I’m not about to trust you. Not after everything you’ve done. But if you’re trying to get me to destroy you in cold blood, you’ve failed.”
Malice’s lips pursed together tightly. His lone eye quivered.
“Do as you will,” Freedom Fighter dismissed. Lifting his arm above his head, Freedom Fighter ascended into the air.
Malice, as soon as Freedom Fighter was out of earshot, let loose a crazed chuckle. It was gargled with spit and blood, but it was undoubtedly genuine.
"It's enough for me," the monster revealed to no one. His head was drawn to the disappearing flame wall in the distance. "To see Him… before I die…"
Malice braced for death. It would be so nice to enter into His kingdom and rule over the rest of creation alongside Him.
But he did not. And pain wracked every cell in his body. Nevertheless, Malice felt a surge of triumph in his erratic beating heart.