I leap behind an abandoned fruit stand in an empty market, dodging the invisible blade that passed through the space I had occupied only a moment before.

Hard to believe I'd almost forgotten about that.

I've been chasing the bastard for almost 20 minutes now. I managed to catch up relatively quickly, but his incessant use of an Area, the plentiful cover of the markets, and his reliance on that sword make both closing the distance and finishing him off at range a major pain in the ass.

I wonder why he didn't use that blade's special ability earlier. At the end, he easily could have maimed or possibly even killed me. Perhaps his sadistic ego simply compelled him to try and kill me the old fashioned way when he saw the opportunity. Either way, doesn't matter.

Despite the long chase I can tell my quarry is running low on steam. Judging by the lack of a blood trail I assume he's cauterized that hole in his stomach, but that won't stop internal bleeding. Which means he's still on a timer. And that means that I can just keep wearing him down.

We make eye contact as I follow close behind him into a circular plaza. That's when I hear a voice I hadn't been expecting to hear ever again, "Well now, this is quite interesting. Hey there, buddy."

Hithe the tink looks absolutely horrific. His once jet-black hair has been reduced to a scalp with only a few hairs left hanging on. There are dark purple bags under his eyes and it seems as though his skin is degrading. Worst of all is the missing left arm, a band of metal clamped down above a stump that is slowly disintegrating into fine particles even as I watch. He watches both of us with a halfway amused smirk while sitting on top of a crate.

"You!" Lleig exclaims, "Help me! This is what I paid you for!"

"You paid me to set up an opportunity for you. We're done. Though if you're dissatisfied with our arrangement you can have your money back. I don't really care anymore."

"You little…!" Lleig turns to keep running, but I've got the clear line of sight I've been seeking. I fire my second bullet into his back and he only makes it a few more steps before stumbling into a crate full of fruit, sending the contents spilling everywhere.

He collapses amid the spilled merchandise and utters, "No… My god… I failed you…" The Area he'd been maintaining flickers and dies with him.

What a pathetic end. As much as I would have loved to torment you to my heart's content for all the shit you've put us through, it seems I have something else to deal with now. But maybe such a worthless ending is fitting for such a monster.

"You know, I knew you had a few screws loose, but even I didn't think you'd pair up with scum like him," I say, turning to Hithe.

"Yeah, not my first choice, believe me. Nevertheless, he served his purpose well."

"So, you manage to accomplish that legacy or whatever you were after?" I ask, "Can't help but assume this situation with the fires down below is the spark you mentioned. I don't imagine your legacy is meant to simply be baseless terrorism, so what's the endgame?"

"I don't see why I should have to answer any of your questions."

"Why not see it as a favor to a buddy, or repayment of the fact that you evidently aided somebody you knew was trying to kill me?"

"What compelling arguments. How about… no. I think I'll remind you of the piece of advice I gave you previously."

"Leave the city? I just might, as soon as I figure out what you're up to."

"Why bother?"

"Call it a primal curiosity. You pointed me towards that book, so you can't say you didn't invite this upon yourself."

Hithe gives a long sigh, "Oh very well, let's hear your brilliant deductions. Don't say I didn't warn you when the time comes."

"Alright. You're the one who started the rumor that there was some long-buried treasure hidden in a forgotten tomb, weren't you?"

"Your reasoning?"

"You all but told me yourself. 'I know where the legend of treasure that filled this city to the brim with troublemakers came from,' was it? I didn't catch it at the time, but by the phrasing I can assume you already knew that the rumor was nothing more than a legend. You knew it was nothing but a hoax, yet you did nothing to stop its spread, even when that kind of information could have fetched you a good amount of coin from the adventurers desperate for any scrap of info they could get their hands on.

"You know, now that I think about it, I really should have realized you were feeding Lleig information earlier. You said you know every secret passage and tunnel within the city. It would have been easy for you to slip that information to Lleig before your incarceration, siccing him on me and fueling the chaos within the city."

"Hm, alright I'll give those two points to you. What else can you tell me?"

"You… You set me and my friends in the sights of a lunatic just to further your own ends…"

"Yes. Now move on, we haven't got all day."

"Kh!" I have to shove down the urge to kill him right here and now, "I think what you're seeking lies at the bottom of the abyss, and all the chaos you've caused, including this fire, was meant to wear down the guard and give you an opening to exploit. The journal that detailed events from 700 years ago mentioned that the king had something, some kind of primordial flame, but it never stated what happened to that flame. I think that's what you're after, down there at the bottom of the abyss."

"You realize the fact I'm still sitting here should disprove your theory?"

"You could have sent a team to recover it for you. You don't exactly look to be in any kind of condition to be exploring. What I'm more curious about is why you waited so long to act. You're literally falling apart in front of me."

"I couldn't act while that thing remained in the city limits."

"What thing?"

"That creature you call the Sword God."

"Isao?"

"Everything, everything, would have been for naught had that creature been inside the city when I put everything in motion."

"Yeah, I suppose he is strong enough the shut down this entire farce on his own."

Hithe gives a mocking laugh, "You people don't even understand a thing about him, and yet you treat him like he's one of you. Let me ask you something, how old do you think that man is?"

"I don't know, mid-forties maybe?"

"There have been legends circulating about that man for more than 150 years. All of the short-lived races seem to figure everything they've heard has happened within their lifetime, and never notice. But we who live longer than most can attest that he has lived longer than any human possibly could."

"Stein!" A voice calls out. Turning to look who it is I see Andora and Bodelee running to me.

How did they find me? Oh, I guess they heard the gunshot.

Andora comes to a stop as soon as she sees Hithe, and her eyes open in shock, "You're…!"

"Why hello, baroness. I believe this is our first time meeting."

"Oh no… I should have realized sooner…"

Hithe frowns, seeming confused for the first time since I've met him, "Sorry, princess. Are we supposed to know each other?"

"You're the one that was…"

Sudden realization dawns on Hithe's face, "Oh. So you saw that, did you?"

"Saw what?" I ask with a sense of doom lingering over me.

"Before any of you arrived, there was a murder in the city. Ordinarily I would never have gone to see such a thing myself, but all of the reports were so lacking that I felt the need to investigate myself. It was… horrible. No, that doesn't even come close to describing it.

"The victim was a tink, which is unusual by itself, but the method of desecration was so extreme… All that was left was the head, left upon a pedestal in a room where every surface was caked in blood. On the wall behind the head was the word 'FAKE,' burned into the blood."

"You mean…?"

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Yes, it was him. He was the one whose head we found."

I turn back to Hithe, appalled, "You killed yourself?"

"Do not dare to insinuate that that thing was me," An intense light burns within Hithe's tired eyes. He takes a ragged breath and seems to regain some of his composure, "You know, you were close enough, buddy. I think I'll give you the pieces you were too incompetent to find."

He stands up on his crate before continuing, "Indeed, there is a fire that burns several leagues beneath our very feet. But unlike some paltry treasure or trophy, this flame is alive. Let me ask you this, what is a legacy? You thought I would seek some lost artifact in the short time before my death? How moronic."

"What do you mean, what is a legacy? It's something you leave behind, something you entrust to the people who mean something to you!"

"And what if those people you speak of don't exist? What then could be considered a legacy? Oh, your friend had it easy. Such a simple cause to give his life for, especially when he didn't have any life to live!"

"I'll fucking kill you if you talk shit about Morvin again!"

"Too stupid, too caught up in defending your friend's honor to solve this riddle, huh? Very well, I'll just give you the answer, since I'm tired of this wannabe detective charade. A legacy, a real legacy is something that will be remembered, no, something that will be felt by a great number of individuals. Far more than you could ever hope to meet and interact with."

"What, like a ruler?"

"Yes, that would fit the criteria. A tyrant would be best. Someone whose existence would be seared upon the souls of their victims for as long as they live!"

He's completely lost it.

"But I seek something beyond even that! Kings and Queens affect the people whose lives they touch, but there's something beyond even that! To engrave one's actions upon the world, the very fabric of reality; THAT would be a legacy!"

"He's fuckin' lost it, Stein! Let's just kill 'im while we got the chance!" Bodelee shouts at me.

With his right hand, Hithe pulls out what appears to be a bundle of papers. I barely recognize the writing upon them as Bodelee starts to charge forward.

"Bodelee, stop!" I shout, "That inscription, it's similar to the one he used to blow open the prison wall!"

Bodelee slides to a stop, "Wha? The fuck's he gonna blow up now?"

"You didn't let me finish," Hithe says with a maniacal smile upon his face, "Tell me, have you any idea why Voset sits in the middle of a jungle?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything?" I ask.

"We're on the slope of a mountain, you know. Only sparse vegetation should be able to grow at this elevation, yet here sits a jungle. Why?"

"Fuck if I know," I say.

"Mana density," Annora mumbles.

"Oh look, I guess that royal education wasn't completely worthless, huh? Indeed, the mana density of this region is exponentially higher than it should be, but again, why?"

"The oricite beneath the city?" I take a wild guess.

"No, you fucking dunce. Oricite is an ore created from highly concentrated mana. How the fuck do you think it'd keep growing back down there when it gets continuously harvested? The mana level of the region would drop like a goddamn rock and the city'd die from losing the single good export its got.."

"Then… the primordial flame?"

"Once again you get shockingly close to the answer and yet come to the exact same wrong conclusion. Haven't you seen a theme here? Objects don't release mana. They can store it, grow from it, all kinds of shit. But there isn't any object in existence that could release this much mana over 700 years. I told you, what's down there is alive."

"Wait," Andora speaks up, "You've been down there? How?"

"Ah, that's right. Descending that stupidly huge hole in the ground is considered the most serious of taboos, isn't it? There isn't anybody in the history of the city that's actually gone down and come back up. Well, come back up without being summarily executed. But I did. I climbed leagues of rough stone wall in scorching heat to learn what was at the bottom of that pit. I looked into the abyss, and the thing within stared back at me."

"You mean there's something down there? Something alive?" Andora asked.

"Haven't you been listening?"

"But that's not possible. The only thing down there is a hellscape of molten rock, melted by the same geothermal energy that gives heat to the lower levels."

"Geothermal energy? I suppose that's a plausible rationale for those who cannot venture down to witness it themselves. But it doesn't explain the absurd mana density."

"But what could survive down there for 700 years? You can't mean to say Eldarian yet lives down there, it's just not possible."

"I believe he was the originator of the thing that resides there. It's 'original form,' so to speak."

"But the only things that can live for that long with that much mana are… you can't be serious."

"Finally somebody figures it out."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Then you belong to those people…" Andora mutters.

"Indeed."

"Will you spit it out already? What's down there?" I press.

"A primal," Annora says with a look of shock that she'd even uttered the word.

"Ifrit, lord of the inferno," Hithe confirms.

"You mean to say there's been a primal sealed away under the city for the past 700 years?" I ask incredulously.

"Rather ironic, isn't it? They've been using the term 'sealed prison' all this while without ever knowing how accurate the descriptor really is. The city traps in a majority of the mana Ifrit exudes, causing it to crystalize just underneath the city's edge, yet even the excess that bleeds through the floorboards is enough to nourish the land and create this jungle."

"Then your goal is to, what, set it free upon the world?"

"Oh, fuck no. I intend to kill it." I feel a bead of cold sweat run down my spine at those words.

"He's a primal hunter. A group most consider to be as crazy as Reverie's followers, dedicated to finding and exterminating primals." Andora says.

"But why?" I ask.

"Because they see it as the ultimate challenge, and the ultimate achievement."

"It is, in nearly every sense of the word, a god. Primals are not simply representative emblems of something, they are the manifestation and crystallization of that concept. Kill a primal, and you upset the balance of the natural world for a time. So even if I don't live to tell the tale, even if nobody remembers me with any measure of fondness or respect, it will be an undeniable fact that I left an impact on this world.

"Do you have any idea how many seekers have come and gone in the search for Ifrit? Almost all the other primals are accounted for. And yet for the past 700 years the spirit of flame hasn't had a single sighting or confirmed encounter. It was only a matter of course that he exist somewhere. It's not possible that such a core pillar of reality could simply not exist. The question was where? Of course nobody, not even the stewards of his home, thought to look here."

"How the hell do you intend to kill a creature like that?"

"I had to ask myself that exact same question when I returned from that venture into the deep. I thought long and hard about it but couldn't come up with any reasonable method. But my time was almost up, so I figured I'd leave it to the next me to sort out the puzzle. Except he wasn't me."

I remember Vanderburst's words, 'When a tink is reborn all their intense negative emotions are stripped away, leaving the self to be pure of imperfections. In an ideal sense, the divide is supposed to create a perfect copy, but I've heard stories of tinks set on war who have birthed gentle pacifists, heroic souls turned farmers, men and women whose ambition has been entirely stripped away, leaving their old self to wither away and die unfulfilled.'

"He was, in every sense, a fake."

"So you butchered him?" I ask, appalled.

"I am me! If the world has decided that I've become too passionate to continue existing then so be it, but I will not allow it to persist some vain mockery of everything that I am! If this is to be my last life as who I truly am, then I will die in every sense of the word. I will march to the grave with my identity intact, refusing to leave that shallow imposter as an insult to all that I am!"

"Kh!" I couldn't say anything against that. Could I truly judge a man who had been so wronged by the laws of existence themselves? Even so, "You still haven't said how you plan to kill such a creature."

"Well my options were quite limited, as you can probably imagine," He held us his dissipating arm, "I've never been much of a fighter, and even if a majority of my mana wasn't bleeding away it's not like I could go down there and blast it myself. Involving others would only spoil the title that would otherwise be mine, so I needed a weapon. A weapon that could obliterate anything."

"What are you…" I glance at the bundle of talismans still in his hands, eight of them, and an image flashes through my mind. A ring of light in the darkness, broken only by eight pillars. The blood drains from my face, "You wouldn't…"

"Yes, I needed a weapon that could obliterate anything set against it. Indeed, I very much wonder if there is a weapon in this world other than that man's infernal blade that could equal it."

"There's no way you've got the mana to maintain, let alone trigger, explosions of that level from here, even if you use inscriptions. Even at full strength, I doubt there's anybody in the world with enough mana to do that. And you said it yourself, your mana has been bleeding away."

"Ah, I'm a little disappointed that the sorcerer would come to such an idiotic conclusion."

For a moment my mind reels, completely overwhelmed by the circumstances, then I realize what he's talking about. The strength of a spell is based on a familiarity with the concept behind it. The fact that Hithe was able to whip up the explosion that obliterated the prison wall with such ease means he's likely extremely experienced with explosive devices. Somebody like that wouldn't need to set magical charges. They could just set physical ones, and keep a magical detonator. That's all those papers were, wireless transmitters.

"What's he talking about, Stein?" Andora yells the question at me, clearly having come to the same conclusion but refusing to accept it.

"The city. He's planning to drop the entirety of Voset on top of that thing's head."

"No! There are still people fighting the fires below, innocent civilians that haven't evacuated yet! You'll kill hundreds, maybe thousands!"

"You should really thank me," Hithe says, his glee replaced by a cold stare.

"Thank you?!"

"If I hadn't told that raving fanatic how best to start those fires the city would still be full. Imagine that, if I had simply dropped this bloated wooden mess with the hundred thousand or so people still in it. I'm not a monster, I simply have no other options left. I have nothing left. Nothing, except this."

Andora makes a desperate dash towards him, starting to summon something as she runs. On old soldier instincts, I whip my gun up and pull the trigger, trying to prevent the tragedy occurring in front of me, but of course nothing happens.

Damn it that's right, I already used my bullet. Fucking muzzleloaders.

"Goodbye," Hithe says before biting down on the talismans and tearing them apart.