The hellfire torrent from the Phoenix engulfed Matadaeva. It was a wave of pure, consuming flame. Hot enough to melt stone and vaporize flesh.
Spark squinted. Expecting Matadaeva to evade. But the gargoyle simply roared through the inferno. Its grotesque, stony hide seemed to absorb the flames. Its dark, hungry maw sucking them in.
The air around Matadaeva shimmered. Distorting reality. But the demon itself remained whole. Untouched.
The Evil Phoenix shrieked. A sound of frustrated rage. It hammered its massive, feathered wings. Sending gusts of scorching wind that tore at the ground.
Matadaeva was immune to the ritual's draining effects. Unlike the dead Dragon King. And the four almost-completely-sacrificed humans.
The gargoyle demon lunged forward. Its stubby, twisted claws raked across the Phoenix's flaming body. Literal sparks flew due to the friction. Not sparks of fire. But of something similar to molten rock and broken light.
The Phoenix recoiled. Surprised by the physical impact. It was used to its fire warding off attacks. Not this blunt, unyielding savagery.
Matadaeva moved with a disturbing agility for its bulk. It ducked under a sweeping wing. Then it sprang. Its single, glowing eye was fixed on the Phoenix's head.
Its gnarled fist was as hard as ancient granite. And it slammed into the Phoenix's skull. A sickening crunch echoed across the devastated plain.
The Evil Phoenix staggered. Its terrifying hawk-like form was momentarily disrupted. Its fire dimmed for a split second.
The creature retaliated with a blinding flash. A burst of pure light and heat that tried to incinerate Matadaeva.
The gargoyle snarled. A deep, rattling sound from its throat. It shielded its one eye with a clawed hand. But the force of the blast still sent it skidding back. Tearing deep furrows in the earth.
The Phoenix saw its chance. It swooped. Its talons extended. Aiming to gut the seemingly vulnerable demon.
But Matadaeva wasn't vulnerable. Not truly.
As the Phoenix descended, the gargoyle twisted. Its broken wings flapped frantically to pivot its heavy body. It caught one of the Phoenix's legs mid-air. With a grunt of effort that vibrated through the ground, Matadaeva twisted.
The Phoenix shrieked. Its elegant form thrashing wildly. A sickening crack reverberated. A sound of bone or something harder fracturing.
Matadaeva had practically ripped a limb.
The Evil Phoenix was now one-legged. Crashed to the earth in a tangle of flaming feathers and pained squawks.
It struggled to rise. Its aura flickering violently. Matadaeva was upon it instantly. A shadow of raw, unbridled malice. It didn't bother with finesse. It simply began to pound.
Its big fists hammered down on the Phoenix's back. On its neck. On its wings. Each blow sent shockwaves through the ground. Dust and debris exploded outwards.
The Phoenix was a creature of pure destructive energy. But, it found itself outmatched by a demon of pure, indomitable spite.
It roared. A sound of desperate defiance. And unleashed its most powerful blasts of hellfire. Focusing them into a scorching beam.
Matadaeva took the full brunt of it. The flames were licking at its form. But its stony hide merely glowed a furious orange. It didn't slow down. It didn't stop.
Slowly, inevitably, the tide turned. The Evil Phoenix had once radiated overwhelming power. But now, it began to show the strain. Its fiery plumage dulled. Its movements became sluggish.
Matadaeva, meanwhile, seemed to gain strength with every blow it landed. Its single eye burned brighter. A beacon of dark triumph. The gargoyle was a force of nature. An embodiment of ruin. And it was reveling in its work.
With a final, guttural roar, Matadaeva grappled the struggling Phoenix. Its clawed hands locked onto the bird's massive neck. Squeezing.
The Phoenix thrashed. Its remaining leg was kicking wildly. Its wings were beating desperately. But it was futile.
Matadaeva was stronger. Far stronger. It hoisted the colossal bird. Its flaming form now sputtering and weak, above its head.
Spark was fighting to remain upright. He watched the demon's actions with a growing sense of dread.
The gargoyle's single, malevolent eye found his. Amongst the smoke and chaos. And then, Matadaeva's grotesque lips peeled back. Into what could only be described as a malicious grin. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated cruelty. A silent promise of more pain.
"No... you bastard..." Spark croaked. The words were tasting like ash.
Matadaeva didn't care. With a final, crushing grip, it grabbed the now whimpering Evil Phoenix. Then, it launched itself into the sky. With a powerful leap that made the very ground tremble.
Higher and higher it went. A dark, ascending projectile carrying its dying, burning burden. It spun. Gaining momentum. Becoming a blur against the smoke-choked sky.
And then, it stopped ascending. For a brief, horrible moment, it hung there. Several hundred meters above the devastated battlefield.
Matadaeva's form, holding the Phoenix, solidified. Becoming a single, dark teardrop against the sky. Then, with a speed that seemed to enhanced gravity, it plummeted.
Down. Directly down. Like a meteor.
And it was aiming straight for Spark.
The intent was clear. Matadaeva was fulfilling its contract. Killing the Evil Phoenix. But it was doing so in the most destructive way possible. A final spiteful act that would annihilate its contractor along with its target.
"You motherf—!" Spark swore. A raw, desperate words torn from his throat. His vision blurred. His body screamed for rest. But there was no time.
He had to make another gambit. The final, desperate gambit.
With a surge of borrowed energy, Spark plunged his remaining good hand into his Spatial Belt. His fingers closed around a familiar object. His last hope.
A blinding flash erupted from the ground where Spark stood. Just as the meteor-gargoyle and its flaming victim struck the earth.
The world seemed to cease to exist.
A deafening, apocalyptic explosion ripped through the air. The sound didn't just vibrate. It tore through the very fabric of existence. Shattering eardrums and rattling bones for many kilometers away.
A colossal shockwave. Hotter than any forge. It erupted outwards. Incinerating everything in its path.
The ground where Matadaeva and the Evil Phoenix struck became a crater. A void of molten earth and vaporized rock.
The already battered city walls of Eagledome buckled and disintegrated into dust and shrapnel. A significant portion of the capital city itself simply ceased to be. Houses. Towers. Streets...
The former battlefield was littered with the corpses of dragons and nobles. It was swept clean. Scoured down to bedrock. Nothing remained.
No trace of the ritual circle. No sign of the remains of the human powerhouses. No trace of the Dragon King. Just an expanding. Superheated void.
...
Days later...
Or perhaps it was just the next day...
Time lost its meaning in the aftermath.
The air was still thick with dust. Acrid ash. And the lingering scent of destruction and cooked earth.
Where the battle had raged, there was now only a vast, smoking caldera. A wound in the very face of the world. Rubble. Pulverized stone. And scorched earth stretched as far as the eye could see.
Silence. Broken only by the distant, mournful cries of scavengers. The gloom hung heavy over the devastation.
Amidst the fractured and still-cooling debris. Near the very edge of the newly formed crater... Something stirred.
A thick, sooty hand. Powerful and scarred. It pushed up through a pile of blackened debris. Then came an arm. Then a shoulder. Straining against the weight. Finally, with a guttural groan, the hulking form of Spark Nighthawk pulled himself free.
He swayed. Every inch of his massive body was screaming in protest. His specially designed runic clothes were shredded. His skin was caked in ash and seared in places. But he was alive.
He blinked his single dark-grey eye. The only eye that remained in his face. Slowly adjusting to the desolate landscape. The left side of his face was a raw, scarred mess where his eye had been.
The Celestial Healing had done its work. Sealing the wound. But the eye was gone. Forever.
His free hand was clenched. Holding something small and perfectly intact. An orb-like crystal object. Glowing faintly with a soft, green light. The... [Garden Globe].
It was his ultimate escape hatch. He had activated it just in time. Putting himself into its pocket of space. Relying on its indestructible characteristic to shield him from the very heart of the cataclysm.
He had returned to the surface. Only when the most immediate, world-ending energy had dissipated.
He had survived. At a terrible cost. His eye was gone. His fortune in gemstones, gone. The landscape around him, utterly ruined. The capital city, crippled. But he had survived.
And the Evil Phoenix was dead. He had secured his end of the bargain. Matadaeva, true to its word, had annihilated its target. And then, true to its demonic nature, tried to annihilate its summoner.
Spark Nighthawk, one-eyed and battered, stared out at the wasteland. His easy-going façade was gone. Replaced by a grim set to his jaw.
He had always been a survivor. This was just another, incredibly painful, reminder. He had lost much. But he was still breathing. And that, for Spark, was always the first step. The rest would follow.
His journey hadn't ended. He had more power to acquire. More adventures to experience. And betrayals to remember. And he always remembered.
THE END [BOOK 01]