Ash rained from the black clouds above, mixing with the dust of shattered stone and pulverized cities. Mike continued his journey toward the mountains where Mephistopheles had pointed. He flew low to the ground, eyes scanning the jagged rocks for any sign of a cave.
A voice boomed from above.
"DRAGON!"
Mike looked up slowly.
Descending from a war chariot forged in celestial flame came a man clad in golden armor, a red cape fluttering behind him. His arms were bare, muscled like a god's, and he held a twin-headed spear that glowed with heat and hunger.
"You are in my warzone," the man growled. "And I claim the right of combat."
Mike narrowed his eyes.
"Fucking gods."
The man landed hard, shattering the stone.
"I am Chosen of Ares. And I have come to end the false dragon's path."
"Let's feast on his rage," Bahamut growled.
Mike tilted his head and answered with a low, rumbling growl. The two collided like meteors.
Spear clashed with claw. The ground ruptured beneath them. The Chosen moved with divine fury, fast, efficient, brutal. He gouged into Mike's side with the spear, kicking him across a ravine.
Mike roared and came back harder.
Flames erupted with each impact, igniting the forest around them. Mountainsides shattered as rock fragments fell like hail.
Ares Chosen struck Mike's shoulder and dislocated it.
Mike spun, took the blow, and tore his bicep open with a bite. Blood sprayed as the Chosen screamed.
Mike's bones cracked as his body kept growing, adapting mid-battle. Scales hardened. Wings thickened. The fire inside his chest burned hotter.
Area Chosen leapt again, this time glowing with Ares' battle mark. He punched through Mike's jaw.
Mike stumbled, but then, smiling through broken teeth, he grabbed the Chosen by the throat.
"You wanna see what war really looks like?"
He opened his jaws wide and engulfed Ares' Chosen in fire.
The Chosen screamed. Armor melted. Skin boiled.
He stabbed Mike one last time in the neck.
Mike grabbed the blade, yanked it out, and shoved it through Ares Chosen's chest.
The battlefield trembled.
The gods watched.
Mike devoured what remained headfirst, piece by piece until the Chosen of Ares was nothing more than steam and bones.
He stood in the center of a burning ruin, soaked in blood and ash.
Behind him, fire rolled across the rocks. His wrath had been unleashed. The air around him rippled from the heat.
Then, another group of figures appeared above him.
The first was an obnoxiously attractive woman with pink hair, screaming at him but Mike couldn't understand her words over the wailing cries. Looking up, he saw the other two women, clad in armor, wielding sword and shield.
The one with blood-red hair charged first. She made no attempt to use her shield defensively.
Mike grabbed her by the head. She swung her sword frantically, small cuts appearing on his arm.
He waited for something more, anything that resembled a strategy. But she kept screaming and swinging.
Annoyed by her uselessness, Mike squeezed his fist until her head popped like a melon.
The two women in the sky started screaming louder. He still couldn't understand them.
He looked away and began consuming the red-haired woman's corpse. The screaming intensified.
"Shut the fuck up!" he roared at them.
The two women froze in horror, watching their comrade being eaten by a dragon.
Before they could scream again, a new chariot appeared beside them. A woman stepped out in full plate armor, spear in hand.
Her voice was cold.
"Where are Ares and Enyo?"
The pink-haired woman pointed, trembling.
"That dragon ate them!"
The armored woman turned her gaze to Mike. Her eyes held no emotion.
"Bahamut's Chosen," she said. "Why do you start conflict with Olympus?"
Mike looked up at her.
"Start conflict?" he growled.
"Yes. Why did you attack Ares and Enyo?" she asked, spear ready.
"Fuck Olympus and your bullshit," Mike muttered with a snort. Then he bared his teeth. "Olympus attacked me!"
"Finish what they foolishly started!" Bahamut roared.
Taking a massive breath while she stared him down, Mike unleashed a blast of black-red fire at the group.
The woman moved in front of the others and summoned a glowing shield. The flames slammed into it.
Cracks formed. The fire began to diminish. As the smoke cleared, she looked around.
The dragon was gone.
Her senses screamed. She turned just in time to see Mike grabbing Eris by the waist and biting off the top half of her body.
"Athena, save me!" the pink-haired woman shrieked.
"Tch," Athena muttered, disgusted. She stabbed her spear toward the dragon.
The tip struck his scales, then Mike's arm moved like lightning. She raised her shield just in time.
SPLAT.
Blood sprayed. The pink-haired woman screamed. Athena realized what had happened: the dragon had hurled Eris' lower half like a cannonball.
Covered in gore, she turned to the last remaining woman.
Mike looked at them, annoyed.
"Why do you use the gods' names when you speak?" he asked with a low growl.
"We on Olympus honor our gods as their Chosen by using their name," Athena said, glancing at the pink-haired woman.
"Aphrodite, we're leaving," Athena said coldly, grabbing her. A golden chariot appeared beneath them.
They vanished in a streak of light.
Mike didn't chase them.
He turned back toward the rocks, sniffing the air.
Then he saw it: a crack in the cliff. A narrow, dark cave entrance.
Before he could move forward, the smell hit him.
Rot. Magic. Undead.
Dozens of undead summons poured from the cave, screeching, clawing, howling.
Mike let out a deep, guttural roar and charged.
Blades tore at his scales. Claws raked across his chest. He didn't care. He crushed skulls beneath his feet, tore open torsos with his claws, and hurled corpses into the rocks.
Still more came.
He roared again, the fire in his lungs growing unbearable.
"BURN!" he shouted.
Mike channeled all the essence he could gather. His chest expanded, cracks forming along his ribs from the pressure.
Then he released it.
A massive torrent of black-red fire tore through the cave. It roared like a hurricane, filling every tunnel. Screams filled the air as smoke and flame burst from other entrances along the cliff face.
He stood there, breathing heavily, flames crackling at his mouth.
Smoke curled from the entrances. Charred bodies tumbled out and crumbled into ash beneath his feet.
Then, from the haze, a deer stepped forward. Its eyes glowed.
"Good, you found it," the deer said in a familiar, wry tone.
"I will tell the others. Remember to destroy any runes you find. King Maymun's army will join you when the runes are broken."
Mike blinked. "Binyai?"
The deer nodded. "Of course it's me."
Then, proudly, Binyai shouted,
"Go forth now, Dumu-Kur!"
Mike frowned.
"What is that?"
Binyai chuckled. "It is you. You are Dumu-Kur, the last dragon."
Mike felt something rise in his chest. A warmth. A pulse of power.
He swelled with pride at the name.
Binyai's voice echoed again:
"Go now, Dumu-Kur, and finish this."