Dragon's Descent

by Compendium of Steve

@c+ E V3rze 3

Act 3 Verse 3

But Wait!

“Who said you could die a peaceful death?”

A ringing fills my ears as some concussive force blinds and knocks me away from Twilight. I hit the ground with my back and bounce to a stop, my head spinning. When my brain settles I prop myself onto my elbows and look ahead, only to immediately notice the abrupt change in scenery.

Everything has turned gray: the sky, the floor, the castle, and even Twilight. More messed up is that everything has come to a standstill, except for me. Like I’ve just fallen into an old-timey still-frame. The only thing out of place is the long, weathered brown wooden pole jutting from the ground before Twilight’s frozen look of surprise. I catch the tick (or possibly a tock) of some hidden clock before everything goes silent again.

Then I hear the soft thudding of leather boots. Heavy, measured, getting closer. As the echoes grow louder, my vision blurs and something takes shape before me. Tall, slim, dressed in gray, with a brown shoddy cloak, laced with the stench of grease, madness and pound cake (whut?). The specter walks up to me and stops beside my sprawled form, and I look up to see a grin beneath the shadow of the hood.

“Charon?”

“Heeeey, buddy,” he says all chummy, like he’s about to ask a favor. “You remember how I said you could pay me back later for the ferry ride?”

An arm shoots down and cold fingers wrap around my neck like a vise. I choke in surprise as I’m raised up to two feet off the ground, the boatman’s grin deepening while I grimace.

“Well I say it’s high time to collect!”

I spit a ball of flame at his head, and immediately fall and hit the ground while the boatman backpedals, frantically patting his flaming hood.

“AahGodmyfaceisonfireYAAAaaAaAAaH!!”

I charge and leap at him, only for my entire body to freeze in midair as invisible bindings hold me in place, pressing down on all my muscles including my throat. Charon’s right hand is sticking out open-palmed, while his left is covering his flameless face. The hood is destroyed, but through his fingers I see a wicked smile beneath a bespectacled gleam.

“...Tenacious punk, arentcha?”

“H-how? It, shouldn’t be…”

“Affecting you?” He lowers his left hand, showing off a very bald head affixed to those glasses. Well, not entirely: some neat clumps of light brownish hair on either side, but nothing else. “Not possible, right? For a binding spell to work.” He chuckles derisively. “Silly lad, why should I be stopped by the very thing I gave you?”

“What?”

He looks to both sides of the still world around us, then looks back up at me. “Let’s move to somewhere a little more… private, before we continue.”

Suddenly a rush of wind buffets my senses as I go completely weightless and fall upwards. After a quick spin in the air I land onto something, and with a groan I get up. From the looks of things I'm standing on a section of flooring that looks to have been… reassembled, high up in the air. No sign of the castle, only vast empty sky, which has regained its sinister crimson shade.

Looking ahead I see various stones, pillars, tilings and wood panels have formed a long platform leading to a set of steps going up to crude stone chair or throne. Then I see Charon drop down from above, then hover before landing gently before the stone chair.

“Better. Though a wardrobe change would help.”

With a flourish of his arms his shirt and pants flare from gray to dark red (I’m seriously getting sick of the color red).

“There we go. I've also taken the liberty of getting you properly dressed as well.”

I look down, then jump at seeing my arms being clothed in familiar black. There’s even a white shirt underneath. My usual outfit…

“Superb. Oh, fyi, I have a magic barrier set up, so don't bother charging or shooting fire at me.”

He crouches, picks up a random pebble and tosses it, where it bounces off a flash of glittery light a few yards in front of me.

“See?” He says matter-of-factly, before going up to the throne and popping a squat, even taking a moment to ensure he wasn’t sitting on the end of his cloak. Once his squat was thoroughly popped, he claps and rubs his hands together. “Now! I bet you have a ton of questions.”

“Yeah, starting with who or what the fuck are you.”

“Ooo hoo, right to what matters. Alright, fellow straight-shooter, I’ll get right to it. Although, my identity should be quite obvious from what you’ve seen and experienced up to now.” He leans forward, resting his chin on his wrist and looking smug.

“Can’t really see how.”

“Then some clarity for the working man-dragon.” He pulls back. “So firstly, my name actually isn’t Charon.”

“Now that’s obvious.”

“Indeed, but not just for obvious reasons. You recall where we first met, hm? Down by the River Styx? It surprised me that it never occurred to you, either then or now, about how peculiar that meeting spot was, given all the research you did before diving in. The thing is, the River Styx isn’t actually a part of Tartarus. It’s something that’s found in the Underworld which, according to historical accounts, is about as far above Tartarus as heaven is above Earth. A flub in names, maybe, no real biggie you’re thinking. There’s a bunch of things that don’t match up when you stop and think about it.” The way he keeps gesticulating and making faces, like he’s extra caffeinated or something. “However, the kicker here is that Tartarus’ river is the Phlegathon, the river of fire. And as you well know, the river I ferried you over was quite damp. Which raises quite the pertinent question.”

Now he props his right arm on the armrest and leans over, planting his smiling head upon the fist. “Who, or what, would have the means to either A) Relocate a landmark like the Styx effortlessly and without anyone’s notice, or B) Snuff out the infernal flames which only a mythical river can produce?”

Something about the way he talks. Obnoxious, droning, but kinda familiar. Further supplemented by him curling up, springing off the chair into a provoking stand.

“That’s right: I’m talking the True Mastermind behind everything! All the trials you faced, the suffering, the violence and the bloodshed, don’t you see?” He jams his thumb against his chest and shouts triumphantly, “It’s me, Spike! It was me, all along, Spike!”

That last part’s ringing in my head as though two different voices were saying different things at once. Other than that…

“Hunh?”

“Speechless? Surprised? But of course you would be!” He babbles/rambles on (bambles?) “Never in your wildest dreams could you have predicted that a throwaway character such as I would be the big bad behind it all. But it’s just as the old trope goes: The boatman did it! Well, actually, the phrase is ‘the butler did it’, but they both start with ‘b’ so alliteration wins out, or something.”

Riiiiiight. “Not to break your stride, but you seem to have experienced a schizophrenic episode, and I really don’t want to deal with a crazy person right now.”

“But I’m not just any crazy person: I’m the crazy person! The one you swore to seek out, way back since verse six of act one. The culprit is revealed, and confronting you, this very moment, upon the apex of calamity!”

We just stand there, his arms and head raised up, his eyes shifting around awkwardly at my lack of immediate response or acknowledgment. Did I scorch his brain or something?

“You’re not convinced.”

“Yes. Mainly because of the HOW factor missing from the equation.”

“...Seriously? The, the whole, time-stopping thing, and floating in the air, reassembling debris, putting clothes on you hasn’t clued you in?”

“Neat tricks, yeah, but that’s a serious leap in logic from what you were saying up to now. You’re just spouting nonsense and, honestly, I’m finding it hard to take you seriously.”

He just stands there, looking hurt or confounded, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dammit. I always have a hard time getting my message across. Frickin’ hell…” He sits back down in the stone chair, fiddling with his glasses and grumbling to himself like a spazz. He then claps his hands, rubs them together, takes a needlessly deep breath, then points both fingers at me. “Alright. Let me try a different approach. Do you find it a little weird how all... this, came to pass?” Exaggerated wave over his head, indicating the blurry red sky. “That Tirek happened to spot your getaway charm, knew how to use it instantly, and then you were faced with only the one option to follow him, resulting in the destruction of the world?”

“Wait, how did you know…?”

No way. He hums.

“Guess saying that should’ve been sufficient to prove my case. But nevertheless, don’t you find it funny how those particulars just so happened to fall into place, as though arranged, lined up to lead to this specific outcome?”

“It’s… weird, maybe a bit coincidental, but that sort of thing happens. Cause and effect.”

“Heh, maybe for you. Maybe for your precious structured little world, all handily crafted with just the right amount of nicks and imperfections to make it all seem real.” His tone seems to be getting… sinister. “Consider this: Think back to when you were a wee boy, that time when Cerberus ran amok in Ponyville and Twilight had to lead him back to his post. The same time you gorged on ice cream to make a statement about time travel, or something.” What, how would he…? “That would have been an opportune moment for Tirek to make his escape from Tartarus, with there being no one to guard the gates. But an alteration had been made to keep him there. An alteration that told him to wait when there was no need to. A sort of alteration that could, oh I don’t know… turn a newly-crowned princess into a tyrant, drive another princess insane, motivate a queen to murderous conquest, and warp the minds of sooooo many others simultaneously in the span of a few years.”

The pit of my stomach drops out. My vision narrows as my breathing halts. That, that can’t be. How can he possibly know this, unless he’s, he’s…

“Discord?” No wonder his kooky-ass behavior and condescending tone struck me as familiar, son of a bitch! Yet, he only grins maliciously.

“Good guess, but that proxy has been retired. Only the user remains, son.”

“Whaaaaaaaat?” P-proxy??

“Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehahahahahahaha. Yes, I’m afraid the Discord you truly know has been gone for quite a long time. Twas not a draconequus that slipped down into Tartarus and whispered the idea of lampads into the centaur’s ears, nor was it the Lord of Chaos who delved into the minds of citizens to alter their personalities en masse, including yours. It was never your lovable trickster who forced you to face your innermost regrets and granted you the gift of darkness to do battle with the light at that critical confrontation. And it certainly wasn’t him who brought you back to the world of the living, brought you to those shadowy steps and offered you deliverance... for a heavy price.”

I… I… I’m at a loss. It can’t possibly be true, but the levelness in his tone, the absolute, undeniable certainty in his words have dug into my mind like icepicks. And this… whatever he is, is lounging like he’s in a gentleman’s club, straightening up his posture with a self-gratified smile.

“To put it simply: Tirek was merely a puppet, while Discord served as my mouthpiece, a facade to mask the true malefactor. The composer, the conductor, the playwright and the director, of this unfortunate series of events that you had to suffer and endure. Along with everything else bad that’s happened to you and your friends these past twelve years.”

Disbelief, confusion, shock. As those words start registering, I start getting a grip. The icy hold on my brain ebbs way, heating up with another emotion while my gut hardens.

“You’re saying that… Tirek, Twilight, Pinkie Pie, Chrysalis… all of that… it was your doing?”

“Indeed Indeed INDEED! It’s been me this whole time, exactly as I said before. The corruption of Twilight and co, the Crystal Empire massacre, the apathy and war, all done by me! Oh it’s so wonderful being on the same page.”

“But why?! Why the fuck would you do all that!? For what purpose?! What did we ever do to you!?”

“The million dollar question at last! We’ve covered about every other step of the investigative process but the why. Well I’ll tell you exactly why. And it’s not for something as trite as a vendetta or conquest.”

He sprang back up from his chair to deliver his answer.

“It comes down to one simple thing, me boy: Conflict. Conflict of interest, conflict of opinion, conflict of taste, intellectual conflict, spiritual conflict, global conflict. There can be no good story without some form of conflict in it, and that applies to the universe at large. Our universe operates on the principle of entropy, and conflict is one of its primary agents. When the swift rabbit is inevitably caught and devoured by the vigilant hawk, one life ends and another begins. It’s the same principle with the rise and fall of nations, the beginning and end of eras, evolution, extinction. Life at its core is a perpetual dance of creation and destruction, and I’m simply here to further perpetuate it. Conflict leads to progress; without tumult there would be stagnation. I’m giving this world of yours meaning. I’m maintaining its purpose, ensuring its survival, its relevance in the grand scheme. I am Chaos’ herald, its arbiter and executor, and I’ve come to take you lowly beings on one hell of a joyride. Hail Pippina!!”

He shoots a fist into the air, practically foaming with self-indulgent mania. This guy’s more unhinged and full of himself than Discord, or anybody else I’ve met ever was.

“Things had gotten so boring and samey around here, it was practically dead. So I took the liberty of livening the place with some shadowy manipulations and war. Yet I find you wanting to ruin all that by offing yourself to restore balance. In other words, cutting the story short by depriving it of its leading man. Well that's fine and good. I'll simply come up with another catastrophe or crisis to keep this flaming ball rolling in your absence. Have a new hero rise for that, mix up the status quo of protagonists in this world.”

He plops back down into the chair, then a halo of astrally-projected blue screens form around him, which he swipes through with a casual finger.

“Let me see… I could instigate another war, possibly with the yaks this time around. There was a changeling back in Nyx’s cave, so I could bring them back for laughs. Maybe a horror from the deep sea, or even a proper alien invasion. The possibilities are literally endless.”

He’s saying all these things like he’s picking out carpet swatches! No, I’m not gonna let this insanity continue!

“There are no possibilities, because you’re going to be doing nothing here anymore!”

“And why not?” he bellows, smacking away the displays. “When did you start caring all of a sudden? You were ready to drop dead before I stopped by, so why should you be concerned with my plans which have nothing to do with you, hmmmm?”

“They do have something to do with me, cuz putting down nutjobs for the sake of others is part of my (former) job description! So there’s no way I’m gonna lay down and let you trample over everyone like it’s your deranged playtime.”

He leans back and caresses his chin with a thumb and forefinger, smirking and chuckling. “You still have that defiant, righteous spark going for you. Very well. Then you know what needs to be done: if you want to set things right, you’re going to have to stop me yourself. This world will never know true peace while I’m around, so you’ll have to take me out completely. Or wind up dead and gone from this world, as you were fated to be. Either way, it’s a win-win for you, if I’m to be completely honest.”

“Being dead once was enough for me.” I step forward and harden my gaze. “I say you should take a crack at it, baldy.”

“Oooh hoo, slinging those threats like the bad-ass I intended! Now I’m really fired up! Though, it’s gonna be hard for you to follow through without one of these.”

He snaps his fingers, and I feel a sudden weight in my right palm that I instinctively clutch. Little surprise, it’s my sword.

“Can't have you go unequipped if I'm to expect a proper fight.”

I’m about to say the same to him when he gets up from his chair and takes hold of his boating pole which I swore hadn’t been leaning there before. He steps up to the edge of the steps, then plants his pole to his side like a staff.

“The curtain is raised, the veil is cast, your greatest challenge stands before you. This is no domestic squabble like what you had back in the Librarium. The whole world is hanging in the balance. You best keep that in mind and fight accordingly. No holding back, no slip ups. Now, without further ado…” There’s a schling as a silvery curved blade springs out from the pole. “It’s Show Time.”

His feet lift off the ground as he begins rising straight up. The magic barrier shatters as he hovers up to fifteen feet in the air, then he stretches his arms before bringing them and his pole-turned-scythe to his chest, giving him the look of a damn reaper. Yet, his countenance, makes it more sinister.

MIRAGE COORDINATOR

He just hovers there, sizing me up, making me tense up my sword arm. Then with a gleam off both glasses and smile he disappears. I'm off-put momentarily before I feel a draft and lift my blade behind me, immediately connecting with steel that pushes me forward. I whip around to see the whacko with scythe raised before charging me. My sword goes up to meet him, but he disappears only to reappear up to my right. I deflect it in time, then catch him floating backwards before he starts blinking all over the place like a strobe light. He pops up in front of me swinging, which I block before he goes shuttering again. I turn around to catch him coming at me with scythe spinning like a propeller, so I bring up my sword arm and hold against the spinning blade, forcing him to pull back and swing wide. I catch it from the side, then stop the next one and a downward cleave in quick succession. Suddenly he goes transparent and fades through me, and twisting around I lower my blade to stop an upward slice.

That deflection spins me about, but I get steady and rush him. The wood of his scythe is put to work in stopping my own slashes, and it's extremely resilient wood at that. After a few goes the Not-Charon pulls back his right arm and throws a punch, which I grab before it connects with my face. I take the opportunity to backflip kick his chin, knocking him up into the air before he poofs into nothing. I look around for him, but the wait is short as I cartwheel from a plunging slash. Back on my feet I see him hovering and gloating.

“Haha, that's the spirit! Really get into it!”

He vanishes again, only to reappear above me for another downward slash. I run from three of these before he pops up in the air ahead of me, firing off a flash of hot magic from a radiant palm toward where I stand. My toes get burnt while leaping away, and the asshole just chortles as I land.

I immediately charge and leap up at him, and as he brings up his scythe to defend I plant my feet against it and crouch to punch his face, snapping his glasses (real funny now, huh?). But his glasses fix themselves and he glares at me before pushing me off. I hit the platform and bump against one of the mangled pillars, looking up in time to see his swooping charge. I get down as his scythe cuts clean through the pillar, which then explodes into several chunks.

I get up and look around, seeing no sign of him. Then off to the side I see him hover up some distance from the platform. Lifting up an arm he raises a familiar-looking boat from the depths below, and a flick of the wrist tosses it my way. I dive to the side to avoid the incoming skiff as it crashes and explodes into planks and wood chips. So much for the bond between boatman and vessel.

The reaper-wannabe floats about before raising his hand again, this time producing a fireball that he chucks at me. I run to the left to avoid it, then run back right to avoid the next one, and back left to dodge yet a third. He builds up a bigger fireball which he shoots at me, one that I’m forced to slice at with my sword. Instead of exploding or snuffing out, the ball is knocked back to sender, who bats it back at me with his scythe. I swing again, knocking it far left, but the guy pops up in time to knock it back. Same thing happens when I hit it high right!

This tennis game goes on a few more passes, getting faster and faster, until finally he slips up and gets hit by his own projectile. His clothes don't burn, but he looks dazed, so I slit my arm and send him some of my own fire with a Jade Slicer. He takes it full on and goes spinning through the air, but rights himself and hovers back looking fumed. Then with a devious grin he holds out his left hand with the fingers down, then spreads them. I wobble as the platform beneath me splits into several smaller platforms that spread out like a disjointed chess board (just great!).

He comes swooping down at me again, cackling as he swings his scythe. I duck then backflip to an adjacent platform as the curved blade passes below. He zips over after I land, twirling his scythe before pulling back and slamming it into the platform. I leap off as it turns to rubble and land on a different one, but I leap to another as reaper man slices up from below. He tries getting close, so I get to swinging, pressing at him to keep him at bay. When he tries going up, I spring up to step on his scythe and head to make my way to a few platforms over.

There's another wobble as the platforms start circling each other in different directions. If that wasn't enough, he hovers to the center of the array and, with a wave of a hand, he splits into three, then five copies! The four on either side fly upward, then come charging me from different angles, scythes raised. I do some twisting and blocking as they swoop by swinging their weapons, but I feel a solid kick to my back that knocks me off the platform. I fall onto another one and slide over it before getting back up, but by then two of the clones fly at me and swing their scythes upwards, catching my blade and pushing me to the edge. A flailing of the arms later I force myself back forward just as a doppelganger dives down from above, missing me entirely as I slice at him, only for him to evaporate. Three of them approach me with scythes locked together to form a spinning ring around me, and at the last moment I spring up as they slice, allowing me to flip over and do a spinning cut of my own at each of their heads.

They go up in smoke as well, and back on my feet I see clones aplenty swarming around as the platforms begin moving up and down along with revolving around each other. The clones, numbering more than twelve at least, congregate and line up five yards before me, sharing the same mocking smile, although I notice some of them fading around the edges. As one they raise their scythes, then cleave down the line until the fifth one unleashes a black energy orb at me. Nice try ya prick, I think before whipping my blade to smack it back to sender.

It hits and the clones vanish, but Mr. Illusionist conjures up a fresh dozen that he lines up to charge at me. I hold my sword before me for impact, but it’s like resisting a wall in a hurricane for all the good it does me, and I’m tumbling through the air accordingly. I flail my sword around and stab it, luckily sticking into a platform so I can get hold of something solid, albeit hanging off the edge. I work on climbing up, but see one clone swoop low at me with scythe pulled back, so I dig in my left claws and pull out my sword to defend. The force of the strike is enough to tilt the platform back, only for another clone to fly in and shoulder the underside, knocking me off it to slam my back against a different one. I’m barely able to dangle off this one, both arms behind me, and I look up to see the clones group up and compress into one asshole, who sneers and lunges at me.

“Now you’re mine!”

Need to think quick. Wait, the platform I was on is stable again. Alright, desperation tactic! I yank down with my arms hard to dip my platform, and as it starts going back up, I let go with one hand and flip around to push it upward, forcing it to turn over and get me horizontal. As it readies to dip for another flip, I plant my feet and kick off hard, feeling it move away from me. Immediately I hear a yell and the sounds of breaking stone, only to be immediately replaced with a deafening pop.

I’m back on level flooring somehow, yet I look around and see myself in some kind of warped black-and-white checkered hallway. Images of fear, pain and death arise from mist, and past them I hear his voice.

You're slipping back into your old ways. Ignore the suffering of others to get at your target. It didn’t occur to you that I could have pulled up Twilight at any time to shield me from your counterattacks. That would have made for a deliciously cruel twist.

I start running down the twisted hall.

That's twice you nearly killed her: First with taking her wings, and now with letting Tirek escape. Your dearest friend, your most precious someone. She's become frightened of you, you know? Fears for her life whenever she's in your presence, constantly asking herself if allowing you to live had been a mistake. And those fears will be validated when she finds out that you were the one who resurrected Tartarus.

“Only because you forced me to!” Not gonna work on me, you bastard. Not this time.

I forced nothing out of you: I only gave you a choice. You could've just laid down and died; I'm sure everything would have worked out swimmingly without you. Certainly would've been far less destructive. I wonder exactly how many have died in your desperate rush to get up here, hmhmhmhm.

More despairing imagery, but I draw on contempt to see me through. Catch a flash of burlap, and immediately slash way. The checkered hall instantly shatters, and I'm back on the platform as it once was, the scumbag standing across from me holding up his severed cloak. He inspects with a grimace, then drops it to take hold of his scythe and locks his legs into a prep stance, and same goes for me with my sword. Even footing, facing one another, no tricks. All the makings of a true showdown to start.

...Save for the giant bulbous black mass of fetid flesh, dotted with huge misshapen eyes, that’s risen up from the side to get in the way of our stand-off.

“Oh bugger, I forgot about you.”

Tartarus lets out a tremendous groan before bringing up a malformed arm to slam down into us. The platform is completely smashed and I’m flailing about through the air, not really falling or rising but being thrown around by a sudden tempest. I spot Edward Scytherman a ways above (below?) me with his arms held out for stability, and even with the wind and debris whipping at my ears I can somehow hear him clearly.

“Of course you had to come around and make a mess of things. But that just means I can crank things up a notch!”

He holds his arms to the left, then goes into a tornado spin, somehow letting him corkscrew through the air like some deranged living drill. I angle myself to get a load of Tartarus and all his enormity, right when the spinning maniac plummets feet first into the Titan’s head. There’s an agonized screech followed by several beams of light from the Titan before everything flashes white.

When my vision returns, I’m faced with a fresh new horror. Taking up a good chunk of airspace is the body of Tartarus, only vastly mutated. Instead of only fetid black flesh, there are now extra appendages: arms, legs, tentacles, heads, tails, torsos, of different creatures and grossly enlarged. And the centerpiece on this living mountain of nightmares is McAsshole himself, his upper half jutting out from Tartarus’ brow like a freak fungus, looking like the harbinger of doomsday with his tattered cloak and massive-as-all-hell scythe. A figurehead of calamity, all large and in charge.

EGOIST

He casts his cliff-sized gaze at me, and with a grand smile he pulls back his scythe before pointing it at me, causing a line of meaty stalagmites to fire out from the flesh near his waist (ewww). I react by dipping steeply through the air to give those projectiles a wide berth. Hmm, gravity appears all whacked because of Tartarus’ influence, and I seem to have free reign over my movement without having to deal with pesky wings. That’s pretty sweet, and also incredibly useful for this newest development.

Wasting no time over this discovery, I lean forward and launch straight at him. Cut off the big bad’s head, and hopefully none of the other ones will pick up the slack. With a wave of his arm an array of thick, armored tendrils shoot up around him, forming a wiggly barricade as one of them lashes out at my approach. I spin to the side, but two more come at me, and I’m able to dodge one but get smacked by the other, sending me into freefall. I stabilize myself a ways down, shake my head. Guess that’s not gonna work.

There’s a nasty loud squelching that announces the sprouting of a very long, thick, greenish tendril from out of the amalgamation’s belly that pulls back and whips at me. I pull myself waaay back to avoid its sting, and float about to witness it writhe slowly about as screeching, goo-covered harpies fire out from along its length at me. Air’s getting thick with these hellish missiles before I know it. Need to drop down, and fast!

I maneuver through the barrage, but find myself heading straight for the tip of the tendril. Angle myself so I skirt past and begin heading along the side, but I then start feeling a pull from it that’s making my flight controls sluggish. Rather than crash into it, I get my feet down and take to running. Suddenly the tendril lengthens, and hardened ridges pop up along it, especially in front of me. I leap up, and the moment my feet hit the spiny ridge I find myself grinding along it. Weird, but okay. As I’m gaining speed, rows of snake heads sprout up and shoot fire after me, but I’m going too fast for them. Spiraling around and around, gaining more speed and fast approaching the base of the tendril. Idea springs to mind, so I stab at my wrist with a claw and ready my sword. Closer and closer, then just before I slam into the side of the beast I spring up off the ridge and unleash a Jade Slicer down at the base of the tendril. There’s an agonized screech as fire separates flesh, the tendril disconnecting as I land onto Tartarus.

There’s a flash of warmth in me and I catch a glimpse of green mist pouring into me, boosting my energy. Seems I still have chaos absorption powers. New plan, then: cut through the excess, whittle away as much as I can, and then chop off the head. The ol’ Giant Toppler approach.

And a fresh new excess comes bulging up a ways up the side of the deformed Titan, a giant boil that takes on the shape of an eyeless cyclops. It groans and blubbers pitifully before choking and vomiting out a wave of pus and snakes at me (I mean seriously, gross!). I’m running before that spew even comes close to me, but it starts hocking mucus like cannonballs. I run from side to side to avoid them, as well as the myriad of arms and claws rising out to grab at me. I hold my sword sideways, line up, and once close enough I sprint to the side and slice the top half of the cyclop’s head clean off. Well, clean save for the blood and nasty yellow stuff spraying everywhere (sorry again, Poly).

Another boost of energy, but then I feel the ground rumble beneath me, so I spring right up to avoid an array of newly-formed spikes. There’s a weightless feel as I turn about through the air, but manage to reorient and crouch land onto the tip of a massive batwing. Looking up, I spot a huge muscular arm covered in gold and silver armor gripping a familiar-looking rusty sword, albeit extremely large. The arm waves its sword around a bit before slashing in my direction, and instinctively I leap off before pressurized air tears through the wing I had been perched on.

Land back onto the main body again, now with that sword-wielding arm as my target. It seems to sense my intention, because it immediately hoists up its weapon, which dons a wreath of smouldering flame. Yellow spots form around me, and I take that as my cue to run ahead before the eruptions start. Luckily eruptions of fire instead of bodily fluids, but still looking to encroach on me with each blast. Seeing that the eruptions aren’t stopping me, the arm and sword wave about before slamming into the ground, sending out a wave of fire at me. Don’t want to take my chances seeing if I can withstand that heat, so I’ll go for something else. I spot a yellowing patch of skin a ways ahead, and putting on some extra speed I sprint toward it then leap, reaching it just before it erupts. The flames hit me, but the position I was in when it did launches me forward over the flame wall and, more beneficial, straight toward the arm. I hone my sword, then slice through that arm in passing.

My trajectory has me flying upwards away from Tartarus, but before I can worry about that I see some long, winding lengths of bone popping out from him. They seem to encircle him, and weird enough one of them happens to be lining up to allow me to land on it, which I do (don’t see any better option). I get to grinding along the bone rail, making my way around toward the back of the beast. To my shock and surprise I see a giant-sized Hecate, her upper half and right arm sticking out at an angle, with her left hand trying to break away from the monster. Clearly in complete agony, however her right arm rises up, revealing the torch she’s carrying that flares and gets swirled around. Suddenly a swarm of something appears and swirls around her before breaking off and flying at me, revealing themselves as lots and lots of angry lampads (obviously). I light up my sword with an Emerald Lancer and spin it before me, tearing through the mass of fairies as they collide with flaming metal and burst into chopped fiery bits, fueling the Lancer and myself with chaos energies.

The rail dips down toward the tail end of Tartarus, and as it levels out a few feet over the surface, three large canine heads burst out and start barking and biting at me. I get my arms and legs moving to avoid those snapping jaws, and I keep wobbling about as more heads (or the same ones) keep cropping up and going for my arms and ankles. I slash at them, managing to cut one up good, but then one pops up far ahead and snaps through the rail. I leap off to the side, fall some yards and then hit the ground running, plunging my flaming sword through the thick hide and dragging it along. After covering plenty of ground I set off a Malachite Piston and shoot upwards, blowing a sizable hole in the monster.

Once airborne I feel myself back in control of my own gravity again, so I look around and see that my jaunt had carved off one of Tartarus’ back legs, earning a deep mournful groan and a release of energizing green haze. Furthermore, I see the asshole in command has his back to me, and given his position there's no way for him to look around in time. Just gotta hurry!

I thrust myself forward, aiming to stab that colossal doofus before he realizes what’s happening, possibly blow a hole in his back with a Piston and end it there. Suddenly there’s a thunderous cracking noise as he swivels his whole torso one-eighty degrees and grins at me. Of course he can do that!

He holds up his empty hand and sweeps it down, and I witness two rows of spiny quills sprout up along Tartarus’ back before shooting skyward, each one the length of three hoofball fields. They ascend far up, then stop and angle themselves at me before launching off again. Now it’s massive needles I’m flying around to avoid, but I see Faux Charon hasn’t erected his wall of armored tentacles, so I soar toward him amidst the needle storm. He sees me coming, as indicated by his raising of his huge scythe with which he looks to split me asunder. Me flying around and being as small as I am keeps me safe, but the quickness of his slash does catch me off-guard, and the air dispersal of that blade knocks me around. Still, I stabilize myself down near his waist, then shoot straight up for his face.

He’s still smiling down on me as I get closer, but then there’s a sharp impact to my side as an errant quill catches me there. That sends me tumbling out of control back down onto the body, and I manage to see that I’m heading for the lower right shoulder of the beast before I impact. Get up, only to see five familiarly massive clawed hands pop up in a circle around me. They flex in anticipation, before the undersides of their fingers sprout a layer of spikes. A sinister laughter fills the air as they begin lowering, but I make a deeper cut on my arm and get the blood flowing. Heat’s rising good when they are upon me, and right as they’re about to smush me I activate Chartreuse Phoenix and blast off, tearing the hands apart in a plume of green fire. Their essences join my jet trail as I get a good distance away from the possessed Tartarus before flipping around into position, looking at that gargantuan moron.

Alright, enough scampering around, and enough of that weeaboo symphonic tech-rock. Let’s Hit The Climax!

I reach deep down in myself, drawing on the abominable powers of chaos and rending them with the primordial flame born from my ancestors. I roar out a massive plume of fire that billows and gathers into a great fiery mass above me, becoming the living and very ripped Avatar of Draconian Might, Bahamut! No doubt seeing this massive green elemental has got the Titan Jacker pissing himself, because he immediately raises up his wall of armored tentacles. Matters little, as my summoned familiar, enhanced with raw chaos mixed with sheer dragon ferocity, reaches out two flaming claws, grabs those tentacles and rips them away like kindling. With Not-Charon defenseless, Bahamut winds up, then unleashes a devastating flurry of punches all over the schmuck’s body, pelting him in scorch marks as well as bruises.

After several dozen of these bashings, he’s left dazed and smouldering. But we’re not done yet! I hold my sword up high and draw back in Bahamut, focusing all that ancient magic and fire into the steel. I lower and draw it back, focusing even harder and channeling more power into the blade, resulting in a long, wide swath of concentrated fire to extend from it. The air swelters and shakes from the intense heat and magical resonance, but I keep it growing more and more, until...

“Viridian Execution!”

I swing with all my strength, bringing around that massive flaming blade. That pummeled asshat can’t even flinch as the blade connects, then cleaves right through his midsection, severing him from the rest of Tartarus. There’s a deep groaning as the main body begins to fall and writhe, its skin starting to flake off as though crumbling to dust. But then there’s a sharp jab of pain in my head, and then another that blurs my vision.

I clasp my claws against my head and close my eyes, but it keeps getting worse, throbbing harder and harder as a piercing whine rings in my ears. I suddenly can’t feel my limbs, and I’m stricken with vertigo. I feel like I’m falling inwards; gods what’s happening to me?!

Flashes of red, black, a dragging sensation. Drawing me deep down, away. Deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper.

Then nothing.

To the Next Phase \^o^/

Comments

[Ekhidna]

This and the first story are some good shit!