//------------------------------// // 7: A Bolt of Lightning // Story: The Storm Of Tartarus // by AleneShazam //------------------------------// Seth could barely suppress a giddy grin as he made his way to the vault. Seth could not believe that the ponies were idiotic enough to evacuate the entire city, even the guards. It felt almost too easy. The empty corridors of Canterlot castle were tall, and wide, so that even a being far taller than an average pony like Seth could comfortably walk with plenty of headroom to spare. His armored shoes clinked against the marble floor with each step, echoing through the empty halls. If the pony princesses didn’t value their people so much, Seth would probably be trapped in a statue somewhere, after a long tussle with the guards and eventually one of the alicorns. Instead, he was walking entirely unopposed. For the heck of it, Seth lashed out with his staff and impaled an empty suit of armor with the sharpened tip, sighing in disappointment when the metal gave almost no resistance. Did the ponies even care anymore? He shook his head. It wasn’t important: he needed to reach the vault as soon as possible. Which, to be honest, wasn’t difficult to find for a deity such as himself. It practically oozed with power from the millennia of artifacts that Celestia withheld from the world. Like a moth to a fire, Seth was drawn to the promise of wealth and unlimited power that seemed more tangible with every step he took towards the vault. A crack of thunder sounded outside, and Seth cringed, as a primal howl swiftly followed. In his bones, Seth felt the reverberation of magic that rippled out from the strike, and he knew that if Typhon and Tirek continued their battle, the only result would be absolute annihilation of all things. The natural leylines, the magic which sustained the world themselves, warped in the presence of the Storm King. His breath quickened as he felt the incessant pull of the treasures strengthen. He was close. Coming to a stop at a dead end corridor, he took a single step forward, and swung the bladed end of his was scepter at the wall with all his might. There was a blast of dry, harsh wind as Seth called on the power of the desert wasteland which he claimed dominion over, and with the force of a sandstorm, the wall was blasted into rubble and then eroded to dust, revealing the stairwell hidden away behind it. “This is too easy.” Seth said, peering into the darkness. If the lure of power was tangible, Seth would be wading through the dense, viscous syrup of sweet, sweet victory. But it wasn’t, so he simply strode down the steps, his jackal eyes easily adjusting to the darkened stairway. The air was bitter, and stale, untouched for centuries, but Seth, who did not breathe and was the embodiment of the desert wastes, it was more of the standard fare. “Not even a curse in store.” Seth sighed. “I’ve seen mortal tombs better defended than this.” The stairs reminded Seth strongly of his desert homeland. The resemblance between the stairwell and the decorated tombs of his once subjects was superficial, but something about entering a place untouched by the passage of time, descending into the depths, as the light of the sun faded into pitch blackness… The entire castle shuddered, and in the shroud of darkness it was all the more obvious as dust and bits of plaster and stone rained down from the ceiling, clattering off the stairs and Seth’s shoulders. He scowled; the battle drew closer to the castle. No matter what black magic the alicorns used to make a castle hanging off of the side of a sheer mountain structurally stable, it wouldn’t last a minute in a fight when trapped between Typhon and Tirek. There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere, and Seth almost choked as an overwhelming, inconceivably powerful surge of hatred coursed through him. Millennia of imprisonment, cut off, with nothing but boiling rage and toxic spite to sustain coherency… “Found you.” Seth breathed. His mission complete, the only thing that remained was to return to Typhon and have him reawaken Echidna and Kampe-- “Don’t move a muscle.” Seth froze, perhaps literally, as a sudden chill swept down the stairway. The voice was feminine but firm, with an undercurrent of steel and a hint of coldness. “…You are not Celestia.” Seth said, still holding in place. “No, I am not.” A soft scraping, followed by the clink of crystal against stone. “…Huntress.” Seth muttered. “I should have known.” “The hunt was never concluded, Jackal.” Seth, purely on instinct, dropped to his knees, a fraction of a second before a beam of brilliant silver pierced the darkness. He jumped to his feet, whirling around with his stave raised defensively, just barely deflecting another beam that ricochetted off the staff, searing a hole several inches deep into the carved stone wall. A surge of hot wind with scouring sand burst from Seth’s open palm, wide enough to encompass the entire stairwell. A silver lance cut through the wall. She was there, glowing silver and blue, the colors of the night sky. There was a storm of sandy thorns, and a ripple of moonlight that seemed to dissolve the hail of spikes. Seth swung his edged sceptre, and a moonlit blade met the staff mid swing, creating a piercing clang and a shower of magical sparks. Seth was knocked back, but the blade carried on with its arc, barely missing Seth’s chest by a hair’s breadth. The Huntress lunged, but the Jackal was faster, and though she was strong, Seth was cunning and skilled. He lashed forth with his sceptre, and the Huntress parried, creating another shower of sparks. Seth grimaced as pain spiked in his arm, the force of the swing bearing down on him, but he pushed on, sliding the edge of the sceptre along the Huntress’ blade, sending sparks flying as he ducked under the Huntress’ swing, his own weapon past the alicorn’s guard. There was a faint thud as the blade connected, and the next moment Seth was flung backwards, the huntress howling in agony. His sceptre was wrestled from his grip and he was sent tumbling down the stairs, though he managed to halt himself before the fall became damaging. Seth looked up at his adversary, and his grimace slowly twisted into a grim smile as he saw the blade embedded in the huntress’ neck, the wound bleeding profusely. The alicorn staggered, and with a sickening pop, yanked the blade out of her body, holding the sceptre in her magical grip. She hissed in agony as the spirit rending blade tore away at her being, but she still cast the sceptre to one side, her eyes blazing with rage. “You cannot fight with wounds like that.” Seth said, daring to conjure a whirl of abrasive sand. “We were evenly matched, and now I will cut you down where you stand.” The Huntress scowled. “I will take you with me, if that is what is required to protect my people.” “Your people.” Seth chuckled. “Your people? Your people are dead, broken and devoured by my master. These are pitiful imitations of your current form, Huntress.” “My people are whoever I chose to adopt, Jackal. A homeless wretch like you would never know.” Seth’s smile faltered, but he still maintained his facade of fearlessness. “I have a home.” “Oh? Where, pray tell, is that?” The Huntress raised an eyebrow, the first true display of emotion beyond anger and cold indifference that Seth had seen from her. “This city.” Seth said, snapping his finger. “When my lord has LEVELLED IT TO THE GROUND!” There was an explosion of thunder and lightning and energy, enough to blast the alicorn back, easily clearing the entry of the hallway and sending her crashing into the marble floor. The stone cratered, and the smoke dispersed, revealing the Huntress with her glowing armor dispelled and her body blackened and bruised, a bleeding gash on her neck, and her wings ruffled and burnt in places. By the time she managed to scramble back to her hooves, the Jackal had disappeared, leaving only a thin layer of sand on the ground. Tirek was beginning to tire. He felt the strain in his limbs, the magical energy that sustained him weakening as he poured more and more magic into fighting the four limbed monstrosity before him. Still, he felt that he had the upper hand. As long as he and Typhon fought, he could drain the immense power leaking off of the titan, propelling himself to taller and greater heights.   Typhon swung at him, and a boom of thunder sounded right by his ears as a fist connected with the side of his face, his vision swimming with spots for a fraction for a second before he tightened his jaw, bearing down on the slightly shorter titan and slamming his hardened forehead into Typhon’s skull. Fire erupted from the impact, and Typhon roared, one hand uppercutting Tirek and another cradling his head protectively. “Give up, Typhon.” Tirek leered, swinging at Typhon with his giant, battering ram like fists. “You’re old news now. It’s a new world, and there are new powers at work.” Typhon grunted as two of his four claws worked furiously to parry Tirek’s strikes, swatting them aside while his remaining arms pummelled Tirek’s torso furiously. Each strike was like a thunderclap; unsurprising, Typhon was after all a deity of storms among other things. Tirek choked as immense electrical energy coursed through his body, reminding him starkly of one of his few remaining weaknesses: his mortal body. Agony spread down his abdomen as his muscles spasmed, and he doubled over, though still barely fending Typhon off. Opening his mouth, Tirek inhaled another mouthful magic, feeling the surge of magic invigorate him. Making use of his current position, he slammed his shoulder into Typhon’s gut, and in one motion, hoisted the mountain of a beast up, and suplexed the titan into the ground. The earth itself shook as both giants crashed into the ground, and the bedrock finally shattered under the strain of bearing the weight of this conflict, creating massive fissures that while impressive, were of no consequence to the two mortal gods. The moment Tirek’s grip slackened, even for only a moment, Typhon seized his chance and broke free, swinging a leg and landing a solid kick into Tirek’s chest, jabbing all four claws into Tirek’s side and unloading raw energy into the centaur. Tirek roared in agony, the ground quaking from the volume, and though his body fought to absorb the energy, there was no way his body could contain the surge of power. After what seemed like an eternity, Tirek finally mustered up enough strength to close his crimson hands around Typhon’s neck and began to squeeze. Typhon’s mouth opened, and a peal of thunder rang out. There was no breath, and Typhon did not need to breathe to begin with, but the pain of what should be his throat being constricted made him lightheaded and his vision blurry. “Give… up!” Tirek grunted, his tendons tightening and his arms bulging impressively as he attempted to squeeze the life out of Typhon. Typhon’s voice came in a strangled gurgle. “…Never!” Tirek scowled, and his arms flexed, repeatedly slamming Typhon into the cracked earth as he straddled the titan. “Then DIE!” Mountains shifted with every slam, and eventually Typhon’s gurgling protests faded into a pained wheezing. Around the pair the war raged on, but even then it was obvious that Typhon’s forces, though skilled and elite, were tiring. On the other side of the war, Tirek’s chaos hordes were endless. Typhon, with all his might, was beaten. “BEHEMOTH! TO ME!” Tirek, despite being several heads taller, was suddenly knocked aside as uncountable tonnes of sinew and bone slammed into his side, Behemoth roaring with renewed vigour as his tusks slashed into Tirek’s hide. It was only a moment’s break, and the massive charger was quickly pummelled into submission by flaming fists, Tirek roaring with anger as he struck the beast again and again. But it was enough, as the fallen storm titan staggered to his feet, pooling his energies into a single fist which began to glow with the light of a thousand suns. It was a blinding white glare that crackled and flickered soundlessly, the magical energy transcending physical limitation and physical effect. With a hammer blow, Tirek was sent flying, the mountainous centaur actually gaining air as a deity’s worth of magic surged through him. Within moments, Behemoth and Tiamat was on him, binding him. Seth was there, by Typhon’s ear, shouting urgent instructions. Then, the titan and desert spirit broke into a mad dash towards Canterlot. Above the towers, Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. The ground shook, as the storm bore down on the defenceless city.