"Say, Hithe, why'd you get in this line of work?" One of Hithe's fellow primal hunters asked him.

"Huh? Oh, I dunno."

"Come on, there's gotta be some reason. I mean, I thought stuff like this went against most of the stuff tinks usually stand for. Why do this instead of something normal, like getting hitched or becoming a merchant?"

"Mm. I did have a wife, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think it was… seven lives ago we split up? We'd been together for almost a hundred years, seen prosperous and dark times come and go, shared joy and sorrow, all that."

His companion didn't know how to respond to that, so they kept their mouth shut.

"But at some point we just… didn't feel that magic anymore. We both felt lost, and so decided to part ways. I stumbled into this line of work more from coincidence than anything else. I wanted something new and interesting, and felt like this fit decently well."

"You don't miss those days?"

"...Sometimes I do. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I should just go back to being ordinary. But… there's something that doesn't feel quite right about that. Even when I bask in the light of those memories I can't help but feel as if something is missing. Not in the past, but in the here and now. For all my time spent living in peace, I have nothing to show for it. For all the happiness I may have felt, it didn't do anything."

"Ah, I see. You want to make your mark, be remembered?"

"I guess. More than anything though I just want something, anything, to change. I'm so tired of going through the motions day in and out."

"Maybe you just haven't found anything you can take pride in."

"Pride? Perhaps you're right. I don't recall ever feeling such an emotion. But frankly, how am I supposed to feel pride in this? All I really do is scouting and observation currently. I make my toys on the side, but those don't have much of a use." He'd been studying Aquarius, the water primal, recently. It was one of the only primals that the primal hunters actually worked to defend rather than hunt.

The death of a primal disrupted the natural order of the world. This fact had been discovered, or perhaps rediscovered, three centuries ago when the organization had managed to successfully hunt Ramuh, lord of the storm. Following his death came several months of passive yet dreary weather. The fury contained within the storms that Ramuh had overseen had instead stretched into weeks of dismal rains. It had taken half a year for Ramuh to regenerate and return the weather to its natural order.

It was one of the reasons Shiva was a high-priority target for a great many of the primal hunters. Too many Bolisians had lived and suffered with the incessant cold that plagued that land. As a result, more than half of the active primal hunters originated from that frozen land. They hadn't been able to make much progress because they'd been labeled a terrorist group and the empire zealously slaughtered any they suspected of being associated with the organization.

However, the disturbance of natural order was also a major cause of alarm even to the primal hunters. It meant that they couldn't just hunt any primal they wished. Aquarius, for example, was labeled as a potential extinction-level primal, despite the fact that the being's temperament was quite peaceful. Nobody knew for sure what would happen if it died, but the worst case scenario was that water would simply cease to exist, causing the death of everything that lives.

Regardless, Hithe was a simple scout and observer. His only job was to search and record. He had no combat capabilities even if he wished to join the nigh suicidal raids against the primals. It'd been a century or more since the last time any of those raids had actually succeeded.

"I'm not saying you should join us as a fighter or anything like that, I just mean maybe you should try breaking new ground. With the world as large as it is, there's certainly primals out there that haven't been discovered yet. Who knows, maybe you'll even manage to find Ifrit."

"Breaking new ground huh? Maybe you're right. Can't be any more boring than observing Aquarius all day."

Hithe noticed it the moment he ventured into Voset. Most would be completely oblivious to its presence, and those that did notice it likely would never have been able to guess what it meant. But he'd spent a decade studying Aquarius. There was simply no way he'd miss the tinge of primal tainted mana in the air, even if it was almost imperceptibly weak.

He spent a year surveying the jungles around the wooden city, snuck little expeditions into the mines that snaked around the roots of the behemoth trees above, but he found nothing.

It was sheer happenstance that led to his discovery of the abyss. He'd been following a mechanic sent to repair something on level 15, trying to learn everything he could about the city's structure. The poor mechanic stepped on an old piece of flooring and fell through, revealing the existence of something beyond what should have been the lowest depths of the city.

Another year passed by as he continued investigating, this time putting all his focus on the city itself. Within a tome hidden from the world he found the answer he'd been looking for.

So this pit was created when two royals smote a mad king, but even after they levied the forces of multiple ascendants at him he kept rising from the pit, becoming more monstrous each time. Is that truly possible, a living being transforming into a primal? There's only one way to know for certain. I have to go down there. My time's almost up, so better sooner than later.

The journey was far more exhausting than he'd anticipated. He knew the pit would be deep, but with the darkness obscuring his vision and no way to drop down a light to measure distance without alerting the guards, he had no choice but to simply venture blindly downwards.

He spent three days climbing in the darkness before he finally reached the furthest point down he could go. At the deepest depths of the abyss was a great lake of lava that extended outwards into a cavernous space beyond the base of the abyss.

Ifrit stood upon the only pillar of solid stone that protruded from the sea of molten rock. Or maybe it would be better to describe it as the solitary pillar that protruded from the orange ocean. The only reason he could even tell it was Ifrit was the massive amount of flame-aspected mana pouring out of the black column.

From what Hithe had heard, primals manifested their attributes at different intensities based on how agitated they were. For example, Aquarius resided in a lake, but if it was provoked that lake could surge forth and drown out the land surrounding it. Hithe had to assume Ifrit had stood in the same place over centuries, simply resting, and the occasional bubbles of magma had sometimes splashed onto the primal, and Ifrit hadn't cared enough to do anything about it while it cooled and solidified on its body.

I actually did it. I found it. For 700 years Ifrit has been isolated way down here.

For the first time in his current lifetime, he felt a shiver of excitement, of exhilaration run down his spine. The return trip back up to the city was even more grueling than the one down, but that feeling of anticipation refused to dissipate through the entire journey.

What next though? In about another month my time will be up, and I'll have to leave it to the next me. A month isn't enough to actually do anything, so I suppose it would be best to plan and prepare. Should I go back, get assistance?

Something about that last thought felt wrong to Hithe, but he couldn't understand why. Then he remembered the words of his fellow hunter.

Pride, huh? I suppose simply finding Ifrit is something I can be proud of… but what if I went beyond that? What if I turn this small mark of pride into something bigger, something that won't ever be forgotten? Yes, I need to spend this time planning.

And so he continued surveying the city and planned. As he brainstormed over a month he felt his frustration grow, because he kept coming back to the simplest method. The city of Voset was an amalgamation of thousands, or perhaps millions, of tons of wood. Surely not even Ifrit, encased in volcanic stone as he was, could survive an impact of such mass. He hadn't noticed any variation in slope during his descent, which made him believe the abyss was an almost perfect cylinder, with nothing for the city to get hung up on.

No, I won't do that. I can't. To even imagine the devastation…

And then the time came. He felt something, some kind of force that he'd never been conscious of before, leave his body. He watched as the hair before his very eyes turned black. So that's how that feels, he thought. The last memory of a previous life was always about an hour before the birth of the next self, so that feeling was something was something that wasn't inherited.

Hithe's new self looked around the room they were in with a blank expression.

"Well, I suppose I'll let you lead the way from now on. Which avenue of inquiry do you want to pursue?" Hithe asked his new self. It was standard practice that the old self became subservient to the new self. It was practical as it both let the new self get a running start and took the burden of responsibility off the old self's shoulders.

Hithe's new self looked down at his hand, opening and closing it as if to acquaint himself with his new body, "Ifrit, huh?"

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"I think the lead I got yesterday could prove interesting, but-"

"How pathetic."

Hithe froze. "What?" He barely managed to utter.

"This obsession of yours, it's pathetic. I mean, honestly. Change the world? Why would anyone want to do something like that? The only thing you'd be doing is forcing suffering upon others because you want some vain achievement. It's pathetic, and I won't have any part of it."

"But… everything I've worked towards… the sense of purpose I've finally found…"

Hithe's new self looked at him with eyes full of pity, "Ah, how sad. That this is what became of such a long history of lives. What a waste of time. Now I'll have to start over from nothing."

Something within Hithe snapped. He'd been told time and again that being a part of the primal hunters was something disgraceful, that he was wasting his time. He hadn't cared, his life was his own to live, no matter what other people thought of him.

But hearing it from himself? It was like all the minor doubts, all the time spent wondering if he was, in fact, wasting his time came back to in mind in that instant. He was forced to confront the question, the only one left to him, had he wasted his life?

He thought for a moment that turned into several seconds, then a minute. All while his new self stretched and got ready to move on. But before his new self could leave he found his answer. He looked at that despair of self doubt… and devoured it.

"No."

"What?" His new self asked, already preparing to leave.

"You're wrong."

"No, I'm not. Your obsession is pathetic and I'm leaving. Goodbye."

"That's not what I mean," Hithe said, a glint of insanity in his eye, "YOU are wrong. Your existence, your belief, it's a distortion of everything that I am. I am not wrong. If the world created you in response to my desire then it's the world, and you, that is wrong."

His doppelganger, his fake, sighed, "With every word out of your mouth I realize how twisted I had truly become. No matter what you say or think, it doesn't matter. You'll take that hideous pride with you to oblivion, and I'll be able to sleep soundly because of it," And with that, the fake turned to leave.

"No, you won't."

"What?" The fake turned around only to be met with a dagger in the throat. The fake coughed blood onto Hithe's hand, a mix of confusion and rage etched on its face. It reached its hands up to scratch at the blade lodged in its neck, but the deed was done. It collapsed onto the floor while Hithe stared at it with a cold rage burning in his eyes.

No choice then. If the city must die to fuel my ambition, so be it. I'll need to whip something up that'll put strain on the guards. Getting down and out was a massive pain in the ass the only time I did it. I won't have time to just sit and wait for similar opportunities to arise. But even before that… I just can't seem to quell this rage that burns in my chest.

You… You're emblematic of everything I despise. I will make a sacrilegious altar from your desecrated corpse. It will be a physical manifestation of my vow, my truth.

I am not the one that is wrong, the world is.

***

The wooden floor rumbles violently underneath my feet, knocking me, Andora, and Bodelee to the floor. I see Hithe leap off his crate and flee into the distance.

After a few moments the rumbling subsides, and I hesitantly get to my feet. The floor feels about as stable as always, but I hold my breath, waiting for it to drop out and plunge into the abyss.

"The hell happened?" Bodelee asks, bewildered.

"The support pillars have been either destroyed or damaged most likely," Andora says, "But they're hardly the only thing holding up the city. For several centuries we've built into the stone walls on all sides, securing hundreds if not thousands of little footholds for the city. Even if the primary pillars are gone we should have some time to make it to the edge of the city. Come on!"

Neither of us bother wasting precious time with needless questions. We bolt after her, each of us using magic to give a spring to our step that sends us up to, then across rooftops. Racing through the tiered city like this is frustrating, as we have to scale a level to make it out.

Huh, didn't think a noble would be any good with magic like this.

Just as I'm about to leap off another roof I hear a deafening crack ahead of us, the sound of a couple thousand boards splitting as one that reverberates throughout the city. A cloud of dust appears along a section of the exterior wall and I lose my footing as the roof underneath me shudders violently.

I get to my feet but hear the cracking of wood again Its eerie sound travels out rapidly left and right from the original spot, kicking up similar clouds of dust in its wake. I can't help but watch as the moving line of dust moves faster along the city wall, and hear the crack change pitch as the frequency of cracking increases.

The logical part of my brain insists that I keep moving towards the edge of the city, but a quick glance tells me it's still several hundred meters away, and my instincts scream at me that if I don't make it in time the edge of the city will be the worst possible place to be when it drops. We're already on the topmost level, close enough that the gate in front of us is within sight.

The other two have also stopped, transfixed by the sight of the moving cloud of dust. Then it all seems to happen at once.

We don't even see a cloud of dust puff up around the wall on the opposite side of the city when the roof underneath us drops. We all collapse as the roof briefly leaves our feet before our bodies slam back down into it. The three of us barely manage to stay on the roof.

Bodelee looks around at the rapidly rising walls of black stone and shouts, "Hey! If we just stay like this, grounded or whatnot, you think we'll be alright?" His voice is barely audible over the cacophony of sounds produced by the edge of the city being sanded against the walls of the abyss.

No, that's not how physics works. This place has just become like an elevator that's had its cable cut. Once we hit the bottom, the force we're accumulating is going to squash us like pancakes against the city if we don't do something.

I don't know how long it'll take for the city to impact the bottom, but I know there isn't any time to waste. I leap toward Andora and Bodelee and yell, "Grab on!" As I take a fistful of each of their tunics in my hands. They do the same and I summon the mana needed to invoke a spell I'd hoped I wouldn't ever have to use.

It's a spell I developed early on in our three month journey, drawing on rather unpleasant past experiences. The military trains its soldiers for a lot of things, falling out of airplanes being one of them. I hadn't known what exactly I'd use such a spell for, but I certainly hadn't expected to use it to make distance from a falling city.

"Parachute!" I intone, and feel all three of us yanked upward. Only a few seconds later the city makes impact, with a resounding thud so complete it makes me wonder if it'll burst my eardrums. Loud cracks accompany the impact, the sound of the city tearing itself apart under its own weight.

Due to only having done the paratrooper drills a few times in my previous life, my spell's effect isn't quite as strong as I'd like it to be, and we still descend at a rapid pace. A burst of movement magic and reinforcement is enough to deal with a landing that would have shattered most people's legs though.

We start to look over the ruined cityscape but before the dust settles I feel something hit the top of my head. Looking at it, I find a small wooden fragment. I look up to see if there are any more.

Oh shit.

I once again grab Bodelee and Andora and drag them along on a mad dash through the dust as a cascade of debris falls upon the area where we'd just been standing. The impact wasn't the only thing that had damaged the superstructure, the descent had most likely grinded off large chunks of building material and left it behind to rain down upon us now.

It's lucky we hadn't gone any more towards the edge, otherwise we may have been fully caught in the torrent of rubble. It isn't just small pieces of sanded off wood, either. Broken furniture, anvils, pieces of support structure large enough that five men couldn't lift them.

We barely manage to escape the worst of it as we make our way back towards the interior of the city. Though as the dust clears I realize city may no longer be the right word for the structure.

We don't run across roofs anymore. The tiles are still there, but it'd be inaccurate to call something a roof when it doesn't cover anything. Every house, every building as far as the eye could see, was flattened to a pile of ruin. The city looks more like a scrapyard than anything else.

Perhaps the most awe inspiring part of the devastation is the massive columns that had been staircases. They stand towering over the ruined cityscape like impassive sentinels. Some still have stairs connected to them, spiral staircases ascending to nothing but empty space.

When the city had struck bottom, it seems the lower levels suffered the same fate as the houses around us, smashed together. Most likely there were no longer 14 levels below us, just one solid wooden colossus. But the staircases were different. Built in a spiral around a massive pillar, these staircases had extended from top to bottom of the city. So as the rest of the city collapsed in on itself, those central support pillars had held strong, leaving the towering monuments.

If the city did collapse in on itself like that, there's no possibility anybody remaining on the lower levels survived. I'm not sure there's any magic in existence that could save you from something like that…

Andora collapses to her knees, staring at the desolation with an emotionless expression. Tears roll down her cheeks, but no sound is uttered.

Bodelee holds his warhammer in hand, and I can see the veins bulge on his arm from how hard he's gripping it.

I should feel something too, shouldn't I? This is undoubtedly the greatest tragedy I have ever witnessed… And yet I feel nothing.

At least, that's what I think before something occurs to me, "Bodelee, what happened to the others?"

"They were still at the manor," he says with a strain in his voice.

We fall into silence, but this time I feel something other than emptiness. In any other situation, I'd stop and reflect upon how much I simultaneously want to return, and how much I don't. I want to know, but I'm also too scared to know.

"We need to check the manor," I say with a strain in my voice. Bodelee gives a tense nod, and Andora gets to her feet but says nothing. Her eyes remain fixed on the devastation.

More cracking can be heard in the distance as we make our way, but I don't pay it much mind. A hulk like this will likely take a while to settle.

It takes us ten minutes to navigate the ruined city. All along our path there are bits of geometry sticking out of the floorboards, smaller pieces similar to the spiral staircases. From one ruined house a trickle of blood ran down among the rubble. None of us stopped to try and help.

"They aren't here," Bodelee states when we make it to our destination, "We left 'em all right here, in the yard."

"Well… That's either very good or very bad," I say. If they'd decided to leave the city, that means they might be okay. But if they didn't manage to make it off the structure in time…

A sound interrupts my thoughts. The cracking I've been hearing has steadily grown louder, and I realize a rumbling underfoot accompanies it.

About a hundred meters away, a portion of the city explodes, sending burning fragments everywhere. From the hole created, something comes crawling out. In the distance I hear the enraged screams of a man whose grand plan failed.

I'm not sure there's a better situation for the phrase 'out of the frying pan and into the fire.'

Ifrit, lord of flame, had arrived.