A chill ran down Pyre’s spine. He frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand, leaving a sooty mark on his face. “What was that?” he muttered as he picked up a hammer and frowned. A pile of burnt metal collars lay in a pile by the workbench he was standing over. “Hey! I said bring me more metal, dammit!”

There was no response. His brow furrowed as he raised his head and inspected the room. There was a workbench and a furnace that was beginning to lose its heat. Other than that, there were tools for smithing hanging on the walls. “Did a harpy kidnap my worker while I wasn’t paying attention?” he asked himself and placed the hammer on the bench. He stroked his chin. “Interesting. Very interesting.” His hand slipped into his pouch as he took a seat, swiveling the chair so it faced the closed door.

A few seconds later, the door opened. Solra stepped into the room, flanked by Mathias, Ivan, and a droopy-eyed goblin. “Solra,” Pyre said, his body flush against the seat. He had no intention of standing up.

“Pyre,” Solra said and nodded. The air rippled as his zone of charity engulfed the half-angel. “I’ll get straight to the point: It’s nothing personal, but you need to die.”

“Just wait a few years and I’ll kick the bucket,” Pyre said and chuckled. A smile lingered on his face as he squinted his eyes. “What’s the rush?”

“I don’t think you quite understand the situation you’re in,” Solra said and snorted. “Last time, you definitely used cowardice to escape before I could deal with you. There’s nowhere for you to run. Seize him.” Ivan furrowed his brow as Mathias and the goblin advanced. Pyre looked like he was taking a bath in a hot spring, completely relaxed. The lizardman of wrath took in a deep breath and made his way towards Pyre.

“What happened to your charity?” Pyre asked, ignoring the three approaching archlings while keeping his eyes on Solra. “Don’t you think this is quite uncharitable? I worked hard for you, helped you dominate the angels’ army with my inventions. This is how you repay your benefactor? Are you simply a dog that bites the hand that feeds? Do you know what happens to bad dogs?” He leaned over and picked up one of the collars laying on the ground. He spun it around on his index finger. “They get a shock collar. Ivan, grab him. Mathias, incapacitate the goblin.”

The four-armed centaur swung around and clobbered the goblin head’s before it could react. Ivan lunged towards Solra, grabbing the stunned angel’s arms and twisting them behind his back. The lizardman planted his foot against the back of Solra’s knee and stepped forward, forcing the archangel to kneel. A cry escaped from Solra’s lips as Ivan tugged on his wispy hair, forcing the angel to look up. “Ivan! Mathias!” Solra said, his voice strained. “What is the meaning of this!?”

“They’re my supporters, obviously,” Pyre said and stood up. “While you were busy fooling around with Ishim and looking for a second in command after he died, I was establishing proper relations with the halflings. Your mentor’s name only has so much weight. After all, you aren’t him. Why should the halflings care about you? Who helped the halflings evolve? Me. Who introduced meat into their diet? Me. Who gave them orbs making them equal to the angels? Me. What have you done besides posturing?” He opened the burnt collar and approached Solra. “There’s a few defects with this, but it should work properly. As long as you don’t perform any sudden movements, it shouldn’t explode. I think.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Solra panted as he struggled against Ivan’s grasp. The lizardman remained unmoving, his face expressionless. The collar pressed against the archangel’s neck. He shouted as the rough edges scraped against his skin, tearing it as Pyre closed the collar. The metal flashed with a white light, and Pyre’s name appeared on the metal. The half-angel smiled and nodded. “No explosions yet, not bad. I order you to not move, Solra,” he said before facing Ivan. “You can release him. You probably want to stand a bit further away.”

Ivan nodded and unceremoniously dropped Solra’s body, letting him fall face first into the floor. The lizardman retreated behind Pyre, standing next to Mathias who was holding the unconscious goblin. Solra placed his hands against the floor and pushed himself up. His eyes widened as blood spurted from his neck, shooting from above and below the collar. He screamed as he collapsed and clawed at the collar. Pyre clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Didn’t I order you not to move?”

“B-bastard,” Solra said as he lay on his side, his chest rising up and down as he struggled to breathe.

“Answer me honestly,” Pyre said as he sat back down in his seat. He folded his hands over his lap. “Why make a move now?”

“The harpies rebelled against me,” Solra said, gritting his teeth. A trickle of blood ran down the corner of his lips. “They openly attacked me. You were the one who forced me to move.”

Pyre scratched his head. “All part of the plan,” he said even though he had no idea what Cory was thinking. To be fair, she was a harpy. Chances are, she wasn’t thinking about anything when she started her mutiny. “A bit early, but still. It’s a good thing Palan had me create these collars, or I would’ve been forced to kill you.”

Solra sighed. “You say it like you wanted to keep me alive,” he said. “Why? To torture me for a few orbs like the rest of the council?”

“No,” Pyre said. “Aren’t you supposed to be reasonably smart? If you’re alive, I have a better chance at figuring out your contingency plans to deal with the capital. You know something I don’t. I’ve never been to the capital after all. Tell me, what are they?”

Solra laughed. “I refuse,” he said and sat up. More blood spurted out of his neck. He continued to laugh, coughing up blood while he was at it. “I refuse! I refuse! I refuse!” Blood splattered around the room as his laughter bounced off the walls. “Rot in hell, Pyre! I defy y—“

The collar exploded with a bang, launching Solra’s head into the ceiling with a splat. His headless body stilled before slumping down with a dull thud. Pyre frowned at the dead archangel. “Well, shit,” he said. He glanced at Mathias and Ivan. “Announce Solra’s death. Say he died of old age and nominated me to be the new leader. There shouldn’t be much resistance.”

Mathias and Ivan nodded before exiting the room, bringing the goblin with them. Pyre stroked his chin. “Seems like the collar still needs a bit of work,” he said. As for the unknown variables hiding in the capital…. He could always just build a bigger cannon.