Sounds of violence mixed with the sounds of screams filled the hall as Arthur reached Wilth.

There was no strategy to his action, no real thought to his blows. All he wanted to do was cause pain and find some sort of outlet for the fire that burned inside of him. His inner flames fed on the images of the battle in The Pit. Augustus falling as he finished pulling the lever. Jemima vanishing under the pile of Slimberus. Theobold screaming as he battled imaginary enemies because of Rathnil’s meddling.

The flames that infused his body took those memories and fed on them, using them as fuel to burn even brighter. They dried up any tears he tried to shed and burned away his words before he could scream them at the sky. So he let Wilth do it instead. Every blow that smashed into the chubby secretary created the sound he wished to utter. A pure expression of the grief that ran through him.

His next punch smashed Wilth’s glasses as the dragon failed to avoid his jab to the face. It earned him a scream, one that showcased the pain and fear. Genuine fear, too. He could see it in their eyes. The way his pupils dilated. How he looked around as though searching for a way out. Not that he found one anywhere close.

All the doors in the massive room they fought in were too far away from him to reach—sized to fit all the monsters Rathnil would send. Now it held nothing but an enraged Arthur, who refused to let his quarry escape. The few times Wilth slipped free, he barely made it halfway across the room before he found himself dragged back to the center.

His cries grew louder as Arthur dragged him back to the center, where Rathnil remained laying in the summoning circle. The purple-scaled dragon was watching, unmoving from his place on the ground. Wisps of purple smoke rose to the ceiling. From the way he looked at Arthur, it was obvious he’d given up and accepted his fate.

That was fine with him. One less person to fight.

“Please!” Wilth begged. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

When Arthur didn’t respond, he changed tracks, his voice cracking. “It was all Rathnil, you know. He made me do this. Set me up. Rathnil meddled and found out about the way the goddess paid for her divinity. All I did was help him escape. You don’t want me. He’s right there.”

Rathnil laughed at that, the sound hollow. “You and I are in this together, Wilth. Don’t hide it.”

“No! No. He made me do it. I work for Epyrth directly. She’ll kill you if you hurt me. She’s back. You don’t want her mad at you, Arthur. But I can make all this go away. You just need to let me go.”

The words seeped into his brain as he looked down at the broken, cowering dragon in front of him. Tears and snot covered his face as he continued to beg. The sight did nothing but make Arthur angrier.

“This pathetic creature got Augustus killed? Are you serious?” Arthur thought as he landed a kick on Wilth’s side. “If the goddess is back, we’re having words.”

“Rathnil! Rathnil, help me!” Wilth cried as he tried to crawl away. “I’ll pay you. Whatever you want.”

Once more, Rathnil laughed before he sat up with a pained grunt. When Arthur looked at him, he smiled and shook his head. “He’s all yours. I told you back in The Pit, I’m done.”

Arthur nodded as he bared his teeth and took a step towards the still-crying dragon. This was going to end right now. Another step, and he growled as he watched Wilth fade away. He’d forgotten that the dragon could teleport.

As soon as the dragon vanished, he snapped back into full view, sitting on the ground a few feet away. His eyes widened as he scrambled to his feet and tried again. Another disappearance, and once more he came back a mere moment later.

Arthur couldn’t help but grin as he watched the expression of sheer panic on the dragon’s face as Rathnil’s laughter turned to near hysterics.

“Indigo blocked you!”

A quick glance over his shoulder showed Arthur the purple dragon would go nowhere. He simply smiled as he waved towards Wilth, who teleported towards the door once again.

“Stay here!” Arthur growled anyway, and only when he got a nod did he turn and start running after Wilth.

The teleports became more defensive, and he avoided Arthur’s lunge. Sprawled on the floor, he could only watch as Wilth got closer to the door. By the time he was on his feet and running again, Arthur watched Wilth flee for the door, screaming for help.

Rathnil’s laughter followed him as Arthur tore into the corridor that Wilth continued to teleport down. A stray thought came to him as he chased the dragon.

“I wonder how Wilth enjoys being on the receiving end this time.”

***

This time, the corridors were the opposite of empty.

Draconic faces pressed up against windows before their doors slammed shut as Arthur raced after his prey. As he passed, he could hear people yelling for security, while others shouted at him to stop. More than one hurled insults at Wilth as the dragon moved past with a mix of stumbles and short-range teleports.

Arthur did his best to keep up with the dragon, but the multitude of obstacles kept him from catching up. Dragons opening doors to bar his way, papers left abandoned on the ground he could trip on, and even the occasional hurled object from an open window.

He caught the second paperweight someone tossed at him, and he hefted the black brick in his hand. With a growl, he tossed it at Wilth, who managed to teleport at the exact right time. It smashed into a painting of the goddess, one of the many that decorated the walls.

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“Stop running!” Arthur shouted as he turned a corner, barreling over a dragon who held a stack of cardboard boxes.

Papers and knickknacks filled the air, along with a string of curses. For the briefest of moments, Arthur thought he’d lost sight of Wilth in the chaos. He moved forward, grinning as he caught sight of the dragon pulling open a door and running into another room.

Arthur followed. A chair flew at his face, followed by Wilth’s scream.

“Leave me alone!”

He couldn’t respond with words, instead sending a gout of flame forward that set a collection of tables on fire. Shrill beeps started from the fire alarm as Wilth teleported, this time through a window into another corridor.

With a heave, he picked up a burning chair and tossed it through the glass before jumping out himself. Glass crunched underfoot as he spun, catching sight once more of Wilth turning a corner. He raced after him, laughing as the dragon slipped on a section of floor that held a wet floor sign.

His failing hand caught a bucket and mop, and water splashed about as he tried to pull him up. Before he could get to his feet, Arthur lept on him with a snarl. Together, they and the mop slid across the floor, slamming into a wall.

Bits of plasterboard rained down, and Wilth opened his mouth to release a jet of fire into Arthur’s face. Heat covered him, and he jerked away and reached up to his face. That was when he felt it. The rim of his hat, the one item that had been with him since the beginning, was burning.

Flames covered it, and he couldn’t dunk it into the water fast enough to save it. Bits of material flaked away. Ashes that swirled in the air before him. Arthur wanted to cry out as he watched the last real remnant of his life disappear. The last bit of his old uniform that tied him to what he used to be.

A sob broke its way out of his throat as a single thought ran through his head.

“I wanted to burn this myself.”

His mind went back to when he’d first found that door swinging open in the wind. He’d planned on burning his uniform and walking away. Now, he supposed, it had happened. Another joy that Wilth’s actions had taken from him.

“No more,” he muttered as he rose to his feet, using the broom like a cane.

Ahead of him, Wilth was no longer teleporting. He had a hand on the wall as he limped along, occasionally ripping down rich tapestries as though Arthur might trip on them. With a growl, Arthur moved after him, leaving his hat laying on the ground.

The chase was less frantic now—a marathon rather than a sprint. So much slower than he would have liked, he gained ground on the teleporting dragon. They moved around corridors, Wilth dodged by a hair’s breadth, until they ended up facing a bank of elevators.

Wilth beelined for them as though they were his salvation, and Arthur did his best to hurry along behind. The soft thump of the mop he used as a makeshift crutch preceded each step. The button lit up as Wilth pushed it.

“Hurry up,” Wilth whined as he pounded it again and again.

Arthur grinned as he moved forward a touch faster, clearing the room and wrapping an arm around Wilth’s neck. Above the doors, numbers counted down as he did his best to choke the life out of the other dragon.

Wilth fought and scratched. His claws broke through scales, but Arthur held on through the pain. He refused to let go, his mind flashing back once again. This was another Ratbrid; he just couldn’t drown this one.

The struggling stopped as the elevator dinged, a barely breathing Wilth sagging in his arms. Arthur grinned, squeezing tighter as he tried to end this. Then his eyes caught the dragon, who walked through the now open doors—Indigo.

He carried what looked like a taser, and the last thing Arthur saw was him pulling the trigger.

***

Dragons dressed in medical gear surrounded him as he woke up in an unfamiliar bed.

His mouth tasted funny, and his body ached. Bandages covered his arms, and the soft beeping of medical machines filled his ears. He could smell disinfectant and bleach, as though someone had recently cleaned the room.

With effort, he tried to focus on a dragoness who wore a series of rings on her fingers. They looked expensive.

“Where—”

“Infirmary,” the dragoness said, her voice authoritative as she gestured around the room. “Someone did quite a number on you.”

“My friends—”

“Aren’t here. Which is something that should be true for you.” She scowled as though he’d upset her with his presence.

“Wilth?”

That got him a chuckle, and not from the annoyed dragoness. It took a moment, but he recognized Indigo. The security chief pushed through the group of medical staff and looked down at him with a smile.

He smiled as he nodded to Arthur before checking the clipboard he carried. “You’ll be happy to know he’s detained, along with Rathnil. That was quite the trail of destruction and scared employees; it made it easy to know where you came from.”

“I don’t want him detained,” Arthur spat out. “I want—”

“Him dead?” Indigo’s smile didn’t waver.

“He’s directly responsible for killing my friend!”

“Yes, Rathnil said as much. He seemed eager to spill the beans. I have no idea what you did to him.”

“Several broken bones and a concussion,” the dragoness said.

Indigo shrugged. “But not a broken jaw, so that’s good.”

Arthur sat back, listening to the two of them argue as he stared at the ceiling. His newfound calm slowly extinguished his inner fire, allowing Augustus’s death to hit him properly for the first time. Tears flowed freely as a choked sob made its way out of his mouth. With a cry, he raised his hand to cover his face.

He heard people walk away, but he barely paid them any mind. Instead, he cried.

“How am I going to tell Dr. Muriler or Nyssa? What if something happened to Jemima and Theobold after I left? He was still out of it when Wilth grabbed me. Oh goddess, what if they died as well?”

Sobs racked him, and he let the tears come. Pain filled him, and he did his best to let it out until there was nothing left. All that filled him was a hollowness that ate at him. There was no rage he could sink into now, no enemy to fight. It hurt, and he hated it.

“Arthur?”

That was Indigo’s voice, and he rubbed at his face one more time before opening his eyes.

All the medical staff had vanished, and Indigo sat watching him with a near-blank expression. He still held his clipboard, and he gently tapped a pen against it.

“What?” His words came out devoid of emotion.

“I’ve been instructed to ask you what you want to do next. Where do you want to go from here? Epyrth has returned, and she’s willing to give you a personal meeting to talk about a rather large reward for services rendered.”

“What do I want?” Arthur asked himself as he moved his gaze to stare up at the white-tiled ceiling.

He felt his rage building once again the more he asked himself that question. She didn’t actually care about rewarding him. Not really. If Rathnil had been as forthcoming as Indigo claimed, there was little chance he didn’t mention telling Arthur about the goddess secret. No, she was trying to buy him off.

“Fine,” he thought as he pushed himself up. “Then I’m going to make her pay out the nose.”

“Can we go now?” Arthur asked, managing to push himself out of bed.

“Of course,” Indigo said. “Then please follow me.”

With that, Arthur walked out of the infirmary, his mind racing through the list of all the purchases the goddess would soon be making.