[Vendetta]

  A wildfire can be a catastrophe. It can sweep through villages, burning homes and suffocating those that dwell within. It can destroy crops and kill livestock and bring forests to ruin. In the wrong circumstances, it can make anyone feel like they are living in the end of days.

  That’s what I was. That’s what I aspired to be, a flame that consumed the world and brought agony. Through that pain and violence, my wish was to cleanse the soul of its impurities.

  It’s not effective on the living, the flesh does not survive long enough for a valuable lesson to be taught. I would know, for it did not work on me. The dead, however, were a different story. The lack of finality doomed them to the potential of endless pain. I could open my mind and summon a pit of flames that never extinguish. A grate of high-grade sin-gots allowed for limbs to reach through the slats in hopes for salivation and prevent them from ever reaching it.

  I aspired to create my own Hell.

  The fires and flesh and screams led me from outpost to outpost and castle to castle all the way up to the main fortresses of those that follow the false prophet that claims they are from heaven.

  “You must stop here.”

  The words of the follower of the Demon in Red rang hollow in my head. They preached prudence, they supported those that could bring calm to their souls. It was something that I was incapable of doing. My inner sea was constantly churning and tumultuous, destroying any vessels of pragmatism. Their hulls were cracked and sent to the bottom of my mind to drown forever.

  The Demon in Red’s vassals were fools to think that I could be different. Mankind cannot start a fire and then tell it where it can and cannot go. You can’t place wood into a fire and tell the flames not to burn it; they were always going to stick their forked tongues out and taste it.

  I still had my ears open. I heard the rumors that Mikha’el was winning the war at the pinnacle, that his hands were almost completely on the throne of the afterlife. There was no such thing as faith, there was no such thing as patience. I would rather rip myself to pieces that stand still and watch my despised enemies have their coronation.

  I had already set my eyes on my prey, there was not going to be any other conclusion than an invasion.

  The horns of war followed me as I incinerated the gates and led my followers deep into the fortress. The screams and the clash of metal played like church organs in my mind. Corpses upon corpses piled up and melted beneath my feet as I used it as a staircase towards the top. Slowly, slowly, I was making progress; I would eat this entire place and leave nary a trace of it left.

  You don’t deserve to be allowed to exist. There must be no memory of you for my life to be complete.

  Tragically, like how a wildfire can destroy wood and straw and flesh, a flame cannot boil the ocean. It cannot melt stone. I was a snake trying to swallow prey that was too big and began to suffocate.

  Spells made of pure light plunged from on high to stop my ascent. Demons in white robes and red crosses stymied my progress. Their golden spells tried to swallow my flames by placing them inside small barriers and suffocating them. Pillars of fire billowed from my hands. One was not able to withstand it and was torched by the heat. The others managed to erect golden shields to stop me.

  Their false light struck my body, and filled it with an icy pain. I gnashed my teeth and fired back, scorching the walls and ceiling. The destructed was blocked again.

  The reinforcements continued to amass in front of me while the dead rose up behind me. The followers that I amassed began to fall one after another. Favor was beginning to turn its back on us and smile upon those that I hated.

  I would not allow it.

  Burning, burning. I rose the temperature of my flames ever higher. Ally, enemy, it did not matter. If I was to perish, then everyone was to perish with me. The entire fortress filled up with my burning wrath.

  It was just not enough. A bubble of gold enveloped the fortress, preventing any escape. The attacks from above slowly sapped me of my strength and the dead would not stay in their tombs. Again, I mourned how impermanent death was in this world. None of these people even deserved this afterlife, as trialing as it was.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Even though I had more confidence in my new followers, I was once again left as the lone vanguard. They respawned, continued their fight for only a few brief moments, and the succumbed again. It always came down to me against the entire system. They would remember what I did, but I would not be able to leave lasting change here. If I could make them disappear forever…

  “Oh how happy I would be.”

  I did not accept my defeat with grace and maturity. I burned and burned as the spells and attacks tore through my body and ripped at my heart. I burned through revival after revival, melting levels off of these demons. I burned through a layer of barriers, melted another one of the elites at the top.

  They had to get desperate to beat me. I wanted to see them contort their faces in rage. I wanted to see their true faces.

  “Yes, those exactly. Look at how much you hate. No wonder you are down here with me. Take off your raiment, denounce yourself, and be an honest sinner like me.”

  They didn’t listen. They have been deluded to their wrongs. It was deception at the hands of a woman, surely, that brought them so low. It was an oversight by the infallible holy that had them mixed up in the filth.

  Oh, how they screamed in anger as I burned up their tapestries and set fire to their crosses. I didn’t understand, the man who was put up on that cross does not love you. Your faces contorted with hate should be full of love for me. Look at how I’m liberating you of the symbols you no longer represent. Look at how I had freed you of a life of misery. I hated you more than anything, yet I still loved you more than the ones you claimed love you.

  A violet beam of light formed across the center of my body. I had to drop to the floor as a purple flash of light sliced through everything along its path.

  The Sword of Ehud.

  “How sad for you to follow me all the way up here.”

  I was speechless like something had crawled into my throat and died. I felt my body start to tremble violently. A renewed burning stretched across the world. Black flames billowed from my fingertips.

  “Why are you making such a fuss, my love?”

  “Armaros! I’m surprised that Mikha’el forgives failures like you. How dare you don that false form?”

  He had returned to his angelic form, an androgynous face wrapped in pure white robes. Golden bangled covered his forearms and a purple sword was clutched in his hands.

  “Do not speak disparagingly about our new god,” Armaros warned. “He is gracious and forgiving and perfect. How much do you love me for you to go this far? I watched you burn down have of the realm to get to this place.”

  “I wasn’t looking for you,” I spat. I hated how he put words in my mouth; how he turned rage to affection. I needed to melt his throat so that he could not speak again.

  “Well, I was looking for you,” he replied with a smile. “I’ve been doing some thinking after what happened in Brunswick and about our pasts together. I want you to exist in the future that Mikha’el creates.”

  “I want no parts of it!”

  “I don’t care,” Armaros bit back. “You see, in our beautiful future, we will be giving bodies to all of the souls of the children that God forgot. Can you believe that? That’s why Mikha’el’s perfect. He is going to allow new demons to be born in this place. And, I decided, what better way to have you repent than to have you give me my child back. I hope that this one will be immune to your flames.”

  Another purple line crossed the battlefield as I engulfed the room in flames. The barriers were still holding strong and there was an endless waves of demons rising from the grave to surround me.

  The volley of attacks intensified, ripping through my health and plunging me close to death. My strength was fading while my rage was rising. The Follies needed to give me a stronger body, better powers, and I would burn this entire world down for them if they asked. Send me something, anything to show that there is fairness in this world.

  An explosion ripped through the ceiling of the fortress. The elites were knocked off balance and the roof collapsed. The falling debris bounced off the golden barriers and topped down below. My fires turned everything that fell upon me into blackened ash and soot.

  I looked up to see a figure flying high over the fortress. Black scales shimmered from the perpetually dying light of the day.

  “Ishmael?”

  “It’s that demon from Brunswick!” Armaros screeched. “We must purge that beast if we wish to be victorious!”

  A spew of golden spells flew skyward and exploded in bursts of daylight all around Ishmael's form. But, it appeared to be completely ineffective like throwing a coin at an elephant.

  The black dragon plummeted downwards, ignoring the spells that tried to shoot him down like they were nothing.

  Black liquid started to fill the fortress. It bubbled up from the floor and spilled through the windows. It coated all of their beautiful things in black sludge; exactly what this place deserved. In the center of the fortress, a giant sphere of the liquid was forming.

  Ishmael burst through the ceiling, his hands erupted in fire. The elites formed barrier after barrier to slow him down. A net of golden light caught around his body. The mana required to keep him in place drove the respawning minions to an immediate death. He grinned with manic pleasure and golden ropes tried to bind his body and prevent his punch from landing.

  “Ishmael!” I called out.

  The demon’s eyes flicked over to me. A warm smile crossed his face when he recognized me. His arm relaxed and he moved his gaze to the black orb below him.

  “Ignite it.”

  “Gladly.”

  Flames erupted from my body. They rushed up the stairs and washed over the barriers on their pursuit of the orb.

  “Wait! The fire, stop the fire!”

  It was too late, my flames merged with Ishmael’s spell. A light brighter than Heaven appeared from the orb followed by Ishmael’s voice.

  “Bomber.”