Smoke coiled through the frozen valley, twisting in the humid air. The ground still sizzled where Surtr fell, molten lines cutting through what remains of the ice. The storm above was now silent, no rain, no wind, just the faint hiss of cooling stone and the sound of Mike's feet sinking into the blackened mud.
His chest rises and falls in a steady rthym. His eyes burned red and gold in the dim light as he walked toward the charred pile of remains. Surtr's body still smoldered, skin of magma cracking open to reveal veins of dull red glow beneath. The air smelled of sulfur and blood.
Bahamut's voice rumbles through his mind, heavy and low. "Take it."
Mike plants his foot on the giant's ribs and digs both hands into the molten chest. The heat would melt through steel, but his skin only glows faintly from the contact. He tears through the charred layers until his claws scrape something solid, dense, beating faintly, pulsing with a slowing rhythm.
The heart of Surtr.
He yanked it free. The organ is enormous, nearly the size of his torso, covered in veined muscle that pulses with dying light. Mike stares down at it, sweat hissing off his skin from the heat.
Without hesitation, he sinks his teeth in.
The taste metallic taste filled his mouth. Fire and iron, blood and brimstone. His throat burns as he devours the heart piece by piece, molten blood pouring down his jaw. The ground shakes beneath him. Steam rises from his skin, every vein glowing with a dull crimson.
Bahamut growls with approval. "Good. Let the flame of Muspellsheimr fuel your progression."
Mike grits his teeth as the power floods through him. His muscles swell, veins hardening like steel cords beneath his skin. The ground cracks under his feet as his body grows denser, heavier. He can feel everything, the pulse of magma beneath the earth, the shiver of distant trees, the faint hum of power still clinging to the area around him.
His senses sharpen. The world sharpens.
Every heartbeat in the valley becomes audible. Every scent, blood, ash, frost, sulfur, flooded into his awareness like a tide. His eyes pierce the dark, catching the glint of light deep in the tree line.
He breathes in, slow and deep, the air trembling with the heat that rolls off him.
Binyai appears on his shoulder, perched like a shadow. The monkey's eyes narrow as he glances around the ruin. "You've gone and turned the jungle into a furnace again."
Mike wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his face. "That wasn't all me."
Bahamut's voice echoes like thunder through his skull. "Enough. There are more primordial chosen outside this jungle. You must continue."
"Where?" Mike asks, voice low.
"Africa."
The word caught his attention. With a low groan he responded. "That is on the other side of the world. I thought we were in a hurry?"
Bahamut continues, each syllable vibrating through his mind. "The veil weakens above India and the first night has passed. You must devour the primordial chosen before fighting Abbadon."
Mike's brow furrows. "So Abbadon is already coming?."
"Yes," Bahamut says. "Abbadon's heralds have found all the trumpets. By the time you reach the continent, the summoning will be complete. You will need every drop of power before the confrontation."
Binyai's tail flicks. "Michael you also need to avoid the Watcher's along the way."
Mike's wings burst from his back in a flare of molten light. The jungle around him ignites for an instant before the rain returns, hissing against the fire. His claws flex, the metal-like sheen of his scales gleaming faintly beneath his torn shirt.
"Then we go now."
Bahamut's deep laughter rolls like thunder. "Yes, hatchling."
Mike crouches, muscles coiling like drawn cables, then launches into the air. The force of his ascent tears through the scorched earth, sending a shockwave through the valley. The canopy splits beneath him as he rockets upward, breaking through the storm clouds in a streak of red and gold.
Wind slams against his body, but it feels like nothing now brushing off mist. Below, the jungle stretches endlessly, a dark, living ocean broken only by rivers of mist and smoke. The Amazon burns faintly behind him, a glowing wound on the world.
He rises higher until lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating his wings. Binyai clings to his shoulder, fur whipping in the wind.
Mike shouted over the roaring air. "If Abbadon's already moving, how far behind am I?"
"You are not behind," Bahamut says. "You are simply… delayed. The bat Mephistopheles seeks chaos, not conquest. He has been scattering the chosen to slow you, to keep the balance broken long enough for that sinister bat to make his move."
Mike growls, low and dangerous. "Then I'll kill him next."
A deep rumble, almost like amusement, echoes through Bahamut's tone. "You may try. But for now, focus on what lies ahead."
The air grows colder as they rise above the clouds. The storm stretches in every direction, a vast churning sea of gray. Beyond it, the horizon glows faintly orange where the sun sets over the curve of the earth.
Mike spreads his wings wider, feeling the rhythm of the wind beneath him. Every beat sends waves of heat rippling through the atmosphere. He flies like a meteor, cutting through clouds that turn to vapor in his wake.
Binyai grips tighter, his voice sharp over the wind. "Michael, something's moving behind us."
Mike glances over his shoulder. Far in the distance, faint silhouettes circle the storm. Their wings glint silver against the clouds, dozens of them.
Bahamut's tone shifts, deep and warning. "Be ready, hatchling. Feathered bats who serve Abbadon's vanguard. They will seek to delay you."
Mike's lips curl into a grin. "Fucking angels like to die."
Lightning flashes again, and his shadow stretches across the storm in the silhouette of a dragon. The scent of blood and ozone fills the air as the first of the angels dive, their battle cries echoing like a chorus of knives.
Bahamut's words thunder in his mind, shaking his bones with their weight.
"Fly faster, do not slow down. Kill them quickly."
The clouds explode as Mike ascends higher, currents of wind trailing behind him, wings slicing through the sky. The roar of his ascent drowns out the wind.