Peacock wouldn’t let Haven, wouldn’t let anyone take him down so easily. He may not have become a god, but he was vengeance incarnate and Viseral’s death proved Zenith Flight’s weakness. He would tear apart every dragon he found.

Dirt flew from Peacock’s wings and body as he dove into Zenith Flight’s base, all notions of stealth discarded. The other dragons were expecting him. No need to make them wait.

The tunnel Peacock picked enveloped him in darkness. Peacock shoved it away with a hundred balls of light, illuminating another dragon’s face. It didn’t have time to call out. Peacock tore it apart, its orb necklace clattering unused to the tunnel floor.

As soon as his prey disintegrated, he was off again, phasing from one target to another in a storm of blood and hate. Every pain inflicted on Peacock and his family, every village destroyed, every nest raided, and every Rebirth tortured and killed. Peacock took flesh for them all, from dragons smaller than him to those four times his size. Every dragon was guilty.

Peacock included himself. His continued existence was useful only as a weapon to carve out the cancer dragons had become.

A massive, clawed hand slammed into Peacock. He barely registered his feet leaving the ground before he hit the wall. Air whooshed out of his lungs as every part of him compressed against the smooth stone, then crumpled onto the floor. He popped an orb, casting a healing spell and re-upping his buffs on reflex.

“Perhaps I should rethink your demotion, Nex.”

The words boomed, echoing against Peacock’s ears hard enough to make his head pound. Or was that from hitting the wall?

“Your first trainee was quite useful, but your second overshadows him in nearly every way. If only he was smart enough to know his master.”

“Yes, Zenith.”

The second dragon’s voice sent a fresh surge of fury through Peacock’s limbs. He was on his feet in an instant, teeth bared, and wings flared. “Nex!”

The silver dragon didn’t take his eyes off Zenith. The slight ruffling of his quills was the only sign he’d heard Peacock at all.

Zenith towered over Nex. Peacock’s anger ebbed as he took in the dragon named after the Flight he had vowed to destroy.

Rough obsidian plates covered his body from the tip of Zenith’s crocodilian head to the end of his thick, club-like tail. Lava pulsed between the plates, the glow casting an ominous red onto everything around it. The dragon barely fit in the room. His black horn-haloed head scratched the ceiling even as he lay stretched out on his belly.

Zenith might as well have been a volcano to Peacock. Fear, primal and cold, chipped away at his murderous rage.

“You’re the leader,” Peacock breathed out.

Zenith chuckled, a sound like rocks grinding together. “That I am, Little Death. Your path here amused me more than anything in many, many years.”

Peacock stared as his mind spun in panicked circles. All of his plans crashed down. Underlings he could take, but this. This was a true dragon god. Robbed of his own godhood, how could he compete?

Zenith took his silence in stride. “Don’t feel shame for your incapacitation. My form is rather unexpected. Feel privileged to see and talk with me at all. But, enough about me, Little Death, let us talk about you.”

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Zenith lowered his head and sighed, smoke billowing from his nostrils. Heat slammed into Peacock as Zenith’s face drew near, covering everything in haze and fire. Zenith’s burning eyes pierced his. “You escaped my home, something I once blamed on the incompetence of your trainer. Yet after your scythe cut a bloody harvest through my servants, I admit I may have been hasty in my conclusion.”

The full weight of who he was speaking with crashed over Peacock. This wasn’t just a dragon god. This was the very root of all his suffering, all of everyone’s suffering. Freezing awe and panic gave way to a million questions.

“Why?” Peacock blurted out before his thoughts coalesced into something more coherent.

“Continue.”

The flat command felt as if Zenith already knew every question he had. It sent a shiver up Peacock’s spine. “Why did you do all of this? You kill, torture your own kind, you destroy everything. Why?”

“My own kind?” Zenith laughed, an explosion which forced Peacock to cover his ears. “I have no kind. It was the first lesson I learned in my pathetic stint as a human, and one I expected you to know by now. The human world, this world, all worlds, runs on one thing and one thing alone—power. Those with it rule those without. As the most powerful creature in this reality, all are my playthings to do with as I please, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing for anyone else.”

Zenith leaned back, settling into a sphinxlike pose, and regarded Peacock with an unreadable expression. “I created Zenith Flight to mold this world into its true form. No lies. No false pretenses about how love conquers all or such drivel. Do you know what generosity does for you, Little Death? It gives another more power with which to hurt you. I forged you, as I forged every dragon under my command. Don’t you see? By stripping away your weakness, I have molded you into your most powerful form.”

Peacock tried to wrap his mind around what Zenith was saying. It made more sense than he cared to admit. Without the horrors faced under Nex’s ‘tutelage’, he’d never have become as strong as he was, nor learned how to exceed the game’s ruleset. Hell, it had shaped him so much, who he was now wouldn’t exist without it. Still, something felt off. “Why destroy the other races, then? Why not ‘forge’ them, too?”

Zenith snorted, more smoke filling the room. “Oh, I tried. I still am, with every raid on a city by one of my servants. Unfortunately, it seems the hierarchies of the human world are far more exaggerated in this one. Lesser tiered races are simply not capable of the power of dragons, and the Monoceros….”

The fire between Zenith’s plates flashed hotter. “Let’s just say every race has a purpose, and for some, that is as training fodder. But enough of this. Weaker creatures are not a concern to one as powerful as you, Little Death. I have entertained your curiosity for long enough. I see in you a kindred spirit, born of the same hellish human landscape. Your power, a spark I ignited, a blaze you’ve nurtured so well, is second only to mine. I don’t wish to snuff it out. Join me, become my right hand, and you’ll have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

A crack formed in Peacock’s awe. The feeling of wrong grew beneath the hypnotic sight of the god-like dragon. “You’d have me torture and kill along with you?”

“Forge.” Zenith’s growl rattled the cave tunnel. “Bring the powerful to the top, where we are meant to be. Certainly, you understand the necessity of blood spilled, considering the number of my lost servants. It angered me when you denied my gift the first time, but you have proven you’ve learned my lessons well. Take my offer. There won’t be another.”

“And if I refuse, what? You’ll torture me—I mean forge me—more?”

“No.”

The simple word collapsed into Peacock, knocking the air from his chest.

“If you refuse to take you place among the powerful, you will be trapped among the lowest races for the rest of your existence in this world. Fodder, target practice, slaves to those above you, forever denied your birthright. Now choose. I’ve run out of patience.”

Peacock shook his head, pulled himself up to his full height, and locked eyes with Zenith, doing his best to smother the trembling behind his rising anger. “You say I’m a kindred spirit, born of suffering. If that’s true, you’re worse than I thought. How can you destroy others, tear them apart, knowing how much it hurts?”

Zenith’s snarl shook the cave walls. “Do not presume to lecture me with fresh blood on your claws.”

“I won’t. I’m a murderer, just like you. So why don’t we end it all right here and take us both out of everyone’s misery?”

Peacock’s tail thumped as his frill stood straight up. Zenith believed what he did was right. He didn’t see suffering, but the natural order of the world, and he was the natural-born leader. It would never stop, never end, until Peacock had purged Zenith and all he created from the world.

Zenith’s answer came in a wave of molten fire.