Hercules idly fiddled with the Phoenix feather in his hand, a construct of multicolor flame. Strangely enough, it didn't burn. He had found it at the apex of the mountain, hidden in its ricky nest. He could tell it had the ability to bring a living creature back from the brink of death one time, but Hercules was sure he wouldn't need it.

After all, he had slain all three princes, the king couldn't be that much worse.

He took a deep breath, looking out over the lands below. A multitude of different biomes abounded, with deserts and forest and seas. Yet the volcano at their center towered over them all. Hercules could feel an aura within it, quiet, gently pulsing, and still somehow beyond anything he had ever felt. Only Micheal could come close to it.

And he was going to fight it.

From his perch atop one of the smaller mountains looking over the scenery, Hercules crouched and ran his hands over the jagged rock, feeling them crumble under his hands.

It was time.

An aura erupted from him with the force of a hurricane, shaking the mountain and sending chunks of rock tumbling down. Surging strength filled him to a greater extent than ever before, enveloping him in its truth.

In this world, strength was king.

And no one was stronger than him.

He pushed off the mountain with a roar like the world breaking, literally blowing the top off the mountain, he soared like a missile, his pace eating the miles like they were nothing. He could feel every awareness in the area locked onto him, but he only cared for one.

The aura from the volcano stirred before settling again.

Hercules roared, the sound loud enough to blast away nearby clouds and brought back a fist with unmistakable killing intent.

Then he was on the volcano, striking with all the force he could muster. If the king would not come out to face him, then he wouldn't face the king either.

His fist came down with inexorable power.

Then he was flying through the air faster than he had come. He felt rock crumpling between his back as he reeled, trying to understand what had just happened. All he had seen was a flash of red. When his vision cleared, he launched himself out of the hole he had found himself in, pride more wounded than body.

A new beast stood atop the volcano, and there was no mistaking its identity. It had four legs, with a pair of golden-red wings tucked behind its shoulder blades. The sun glinted against its red and golden scales, making it shine like a second sun. It had a long scaly snout with a set of glistening man-sized teeth that ended in impossible sharp points. A pair of pearl-white antlers curved towards its orange eyes.

But even more noticeable was the aura it emitted. It was a composite path, nameless in its uniqueness. Tyranny, fire, dominance, power, and a million other qualities came together to form a spirituality that pressed down heavily on every being in its range.

Even Hercules was staggered in its face, though he quickly shook off its effects.

“What is the meaning of this?” It questioned with obvious annoyance, shaking the space with its deep bass. It tilted its head when it spotted Hercules. “One of Adam's brats? Why have you thrown your life away?”

Hercules was too busy trying to figure out how it had moved so fast to respond.

It spoke again, Its voice sharpened, authority demanding Hercules respond. “Why have you come?”

An answer was dragged from Hercules before he could brace himself. “To atone.”

It chuckled, amused. “Don’t you know? There is no atonement. You will live with your sins till the day you die. We all will. Might as well own them.”

No.

Hercules knew better. He remembered that light. That searing heat.

He would show the dragon the truth.

He would show them all.

But not with words. With a roar, he launched himself at the dragon. This time, when its massive arm tried to swap him out the sky, he twisted, barely dodging the lazy blow to strike one of his own. Everything he had went into it, creating a shockwave so powerful it pulverized the stone around him. Dargonth roared, more in anger than pain and flared an aura that nearly brought Hercules to his knees.

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He barely managed to jump out of the way of another world-ending swipe.

He charged back in, flaring his own aura to barely hold back the dragons. He struck out with a flurry of blows, dodging the dragons like a leaf in the wind or occasionally blocking with world-ending blows of his own, though such blocks always pushed him back. The lessons he had learned poured out of him, forging a story of tragedy and responsibility.

Of quests and battle.

Of love and death.

Of strangling lions and laying serpents.

Of consuming phoenixs and fighting tyrants.

Even hints of fight he could no longer remember poured out of him, giving his blows new depth.

But every move was countered, and every lesson rebuked.

Finally, with a roar like an erupting volcano, Dargonth finally landed a clawed blow on Hercules’ lion-pelt clad form. The pelt held for a split second before giving way to a much greater power. Blood sprayed from Hercules as he was nearly cut in half.

As his bloody body flew backwards, life maintained only though pure will, he heard the dragon snort dismissively.

Hercules wanted to cry out, to protest. He wasn't done! He had points to make and blows to strike.

But his body no longer listened, barely keeping the dragon's path from consuming it as it was.

And… it was becoming hard to think. Slowly, he began to feel lighter, like the force holding him to the mortal plane was weakening. He felt like he could soar into the heavens if he just let go.

His desire to fight slowly began to fade, lost in the glorious lightness. For the first time in years, he felt whole. He felt free. Perhaps the dragon had been right. Perhaps only in death could one be free of their sins.

But even now, something bothered him.

That light… it had not been of death.

The answer came to him with agonizing slowness, like a decrepit old man stumbling over, determined despite his senility.

The dragon had been right, but only partially. He would indeed live with the guilt for the rest of his life. He would never truly abandon the weight of his mistakes. But that was not what atonement was about.

That wasn't what that light was about.

It was about living with the mistake, and doing the best one could by it. It was about getting up again and again to apologize. About fixing what one broke. About preventing it from happening again.

To atone was live despite one's mistakes. To thrive despite one's failings.

To be whole despite one's harms.

Hercules reached out for the light. In the physical world, his hand twitched, barely brushing a burning feather tethered to the remains of his cloak.

It was a mere brush, the barest corner of something vast.

But it was enough.

Fire rushed into him, making flesh anew wherever it passed. In a flash he landed on his feet, and pushed off once more. His fist drew back in midair, light beginning to shine from it like it locked the sun in it, mimicking the blow that had struck him down not so long ago. Atonement and redemption became power, and power became strength. Dargonth turned just in time to catch the fist on his shocked face.

All became light.

As Hercules fell, devoid of even the faintest drop of strength, he felt the light envelop him. It caressed him, and reassured him.

He was whole despite his harms.

When the light cleared, the dragon was swaying, covered in horrific burns and shattered scales. For a second, it looked like it would fall, but then an aura far greater than anything it had shown before erupted from it as it lifted its head to the heavens and roared loud enough to deafen Hercules.

In a silent world, he watched as the dragon's scales began to knit together at an almost noticeable rate, though he was glad to see them struggling with the remains of his attack.

Still, Dargonth had been concealing his strength.

The fight wasn't over.

With an effort beyond anything he had known he was capable of, Hercules pushed himself to his feet, swaying as he did so. He had reached his true limit, and could no longer move so much as a finger.

Still, he would die on his feet.

The dragon looked at him in nameless fury and opened his mouth, light gathering in his jaws. Hercules grinned, preparing to face his end.

Just as the standoff reached its apex, a grinning Hercule against a furious Dargonth, a voice split the air.

“No”

It was quiet, yet everyone heard it. Authority saturated it, making volume pointless in its delivery.

A king would be heard, no matter how loud he was.

Hercules smiled. “Micheal” he whispered.

A second later, a monstrous presence descended, every bit Dargonth’s equal. It draped over the volcano like the disapproving gaze of a divine king.

Dargonth roared, lunging for Hercules.

Another command split the air.

“Come”

And all went black.

—-----------------------------

From above, I watched as the fate of an era was sealed. Dargonth, by his nature, was a prideful being, and he would not let such a humiliation stand, he would not let being capable of matching him roam free.

He would summon his forces from the corners of the world, forces far greater than even Micheal could conceive, and he would descend upon an infant humanity with the endless might of the untamed wilds.

I had intervened enough. If humanity could not overcome this, they would never ascend on their own, and my labors would have been in vain.

My work was done, the rest was up to them.

I could see it, clear as day.

This was a crucible that would forge man or destroy him.

The wilds would descend on man.

And in the end.

Only one would remain.