The sky burns.

Rocks rain down around me, emerging from the smoke layer like vengeful ghosts. Ghost that destroy everything they touch.

Boulders smash into the stone platform, spraying shrapnel in every direction.

The vibrations knock me off my feet, forcing me to my knees.

The world is smothered in a blanket of silence--at odds with the vision of violence and destruction before me--only ringing in my ears reminds me that I’m alive.

I’ve come to associate pain with being alive. Weak and pathetic, I know. But weak and pathetic is what I am. Just a weak man struggling to make something of the hand he is dealt.

I touch my ears. Something feels warm and wet. I look and see blood. Everything around me fades into the background at the sight of it. I focus on the dark red liquid staining my hands. It is such a vivid color, the red flickers and changes shades endlessly as it reflects the fires around me. Its hard to believe that something so beautiful is the result of violence and injury.

I lose myself in the thought, my tired mind overcome by the twists and turns of my recent fate.

***

A crisp, rhythmic sound breaks me from my reverie. The rhythm sounds so familiar but so foreign in this environment. Out of place.

It takes me a few moments to recognize it for what it is.

Slow clapping.

Someone is slow clapping.

I wave away the notifications blocking my view and look around, trying to locate the origin of the sound. My eyes take in everything around me.

The dust has settled, and the smoke cleared. I didn’t think I was out that long, but who knows? At this point I’m just happy to be alive and uninjured. Wait, uninjured? A quick check of my ears reveals no blood, but the Source I absorbed from those cores is mysteriously low. My blood must’ve used the Source to heal my wounds. That is the most obvious explanation, which is great! Except for the fact that now that my access to Source is finite, wasting it on wounds that will heal over time is… Well, not so great.

Boulders and shattered stone litter the landscape of the gigantic platform beneath me. Off in the distance I can see the Unmoving Mountain, or what remains of it. A third of it is just gone; the rest is rubble. It looks a pile misshapen pile of gravel. You know… if piles of gravel bled rivers worth of blood, which happen to look like actual rivers and streams running down a mountain, except red and viscous.

The large meteor is nowhere to be seen. I wonder if it just obliterated the Unmoving Mountain and continued to the ground, without a care for damage it wrought.

In the sky a haze lingers, making the sun appear a dark red. The strange dark cloud that has been following me still hangs overhead, unmolested by the meteorite storm that I so foolishly called. Oh well, desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.

Nevesca crouches in front of me, every feather raised and claws gripping the stone. Considering her wolven features it looks like her hackles are raised. Her three tails, each covered in long feathers, lash at the ground in an agitated manner leaving long grooves. The grooves show that she is running Source through her feathers, making each one as sharp and hard as a blade, an ominous sign.

To my left Kandra flourishes four arms, each tipped with a curving blade of bone. Her bones glow through translucent skin, showing the details of her chosen form. She has powerful legs built for leaping, like a lion’s, with long claws that grip the ground for stability. A thick tail swings behind her balancing out her bladed arms to keep her center of mass near her core.

Something isn’t right here.

To my right Quinn stands tall, her wings spread in what looks to be an aggressive stance. If she was a bird I would think she is trying to make herself look bigger. A frown adorns her face, causing deep grooves to line her forehead. With one hand she caresses the pommel of her sword. Her other hand traces the air in a restless manner, particles of light dancing around her fingers.

My girls are ready for battle.

In front of Nevesca, Legion and Wisp loom. Their stances promise violence. Such a stance is threatening from most, but especially from two gryphons leaking flame. Wisp burns orange and red, his bones glowing through the body Kandra crafted for him. Legion’s current body has an aura of flickering black flame, the way that every body he possess does. If that wasn’t a hallmark trait of his, he would scare me even more. Imagine a creature formed of negative emotions that could freely possess bodies and integrate into normal society without any distinguishing trait. It would be terrifying.

Regardless of my minion’s dubious motivations and moral compass, he –it? —has been helpful and loyal recently. Besides, I have more immediate issues. For example, why is there no rubble in our vicinity? Or, why are all my companions in attack mode while maintaining a defensive formation around me? And my original question: who is clapping?

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

All three of these questions can be solved with a single answer: him.

The man in question is tall, dark, and handsome. His perfect white teeth gleam through an immaculate beard. He is wearing a collared white shirt and dark pants, both of obvious quality but unsuited for adventuring or battle. He sits perched upon a large boulder at the edge of the clear space surrounding us.

A large creature is wrapped around the boulder. The beast is a cruel looking one; it has a long snout filled with fangs, a lithe and muscular body, two great wings tipped with claws, two powerful legs adorned with cruel talons, a heavy looking tail coated in spikes, and it is covered in dappled blue scales. I recognize it from a bestiary I flipped through when I was trying to find out more about Nevesca’s species. It is a Greater Wyvern, a ferocious creature descended from dragons and said to be able to evolve to such heights once again.

“Bravo Snowflake, Quinn, and company!” The man exclaims, bringing his slow clap to an end, flourishing his hands as he talks. “You came much further than I ever thought you could! I thought it was over for you when you attacked the first Mi’ka’nae, but the way made them all turn against each other was truly marvelous.”

“Who are you?” I ask, uncertain of what is going on. This may be another encounter like the one I had with my vampiric adopted father. Right?

“Tsk. Tsk.” The man frowns. “You are just like your friend Mordai, with the utterly boring questions.”

“Snowflake,” Quinn says, her aura a flood of complicated and hard to read emotions. “Meet my husband, Angosin.”

“Oh,” I mutter.

Well this is not good.

“Why-“ I begin, just be interrupted.

“How about you let me talk for a little bit?” Angosin says in a way that makes it clear that it isn’t a question. “It is my big reveal after all, and I have a weakness for monologuing. It isn’t too much to ask between men that have shared the love of the same woman, now is it?”

Wow. This guy has a complex. I know I can be a bit dramatic, but this guy is leagues beyond me. Maybe Quinn has a type? If she does, at least its handsome.

Taking my silence as consent, he carries on

“You are most likely wondering why I went through all of this effort when I could’ve just had you killed when I found out about your little tryst. That would’ve been much easier than this game of cat and mouse that we’ve been playing,” he lifts an eyebrow at me as if savoring our disparity in knowledge. I’m sure that he enjoys having secrets and the power trip that comes along with them. Bastard. “You see, I believe that a person must be broken down to the very essence of themselves before-“

I stop listening. It is obvious to me that despite saving us from the backlash of the meteor strike, he has nefarious intentions. Quinn wouldn’t be running away from him if he was a good guy. We need to get away.

As I see it, our only chance is to get to the portal we should’ve opened by killing the Unmoving Mountain; our whole purpose for attacking it in the first place. We need to strike hard and fast, before he is ready.

If he followed us this far, he could follow us further. Not only that, but we don’t have anywhere else to run. We’ve come too far on this path to turn back.

I zone back in to see where his monologue has brought him to.

“Even a pathetic coward like you could become truly powerful after being broken and rebuilt. After facing your weakness and destroying yourself you can grow strong. Only, we are often blind to our weaknesses-“

I resume not listening. Fuck that guy.

I slip a hand into my pouch, grabbing a handful of cores. It takes me a few seconds longer than it should have; I’m extra careful to grab only cores this time. My stomach kind of hurts despite my healing abilities and I’m pretty sure it is because I ate something weird earlier.

“Wisp and Legion, attack the man, I’m right behind you! Nevasca and Kandra, take the wyvern! Quinn, support whoever needs it!” I shout instructions before devouring my handful of cores.

Wisp must’ve been waiting for my signal because it doesn’t hesitate to cross the distance. With a series of powerful leaps, aided by strong wing strokes, it makes its way to Angosin. Wisp looks like a vengeful god of fire --every inch of him is covered in roaring flames-- as he launches his attack. Perhaps it more resembles a demon and not a god. The way its bones glow through its skin gives it a demonic cast. The way the bones in its wing twist unnaturally to form enormous claws cements that impression.

For a moment I worry that Wisp will be intercepted by the wyvern, but my fears are misplaced. Wisp is too fast, and the wyvern is caught unprepared to defend its master.

Unfortunately, the master can defend himself.

“Perfect!” Angosin laughs. Time seems to slow around him. “Not a coward, just a fool. I will smelt away your impurities and create you in my own image!”

His smile twists, turning cruel.

I get the impression that he is trying to recruit me, and not kill me. Given more time, I might wonder about that. However, I know that either way I’m not interested.

“First, let me show you just how ice magic should work,” he says, reaching out a single hand. “You have disgraced the element for too long.”

A strong wind whips around him, bringing moisture to his outstretched hand. In the blink of an eye, the moisture condenses and freezes into an icicle as long and thick as his forearm. Without warning the icicle shoots toward Wisp faster than I can follow. It catches Wisp in the chest mid lunge, a mere few feet from reaching Angosin.

The icicle penetrates deep into Wisp’s chest, stopping its forward momentum. The icicle buried in Wisp’s chest explodes, causing chunks of its jelly like flesh and glowing bones rain down. Thousands of tiny, razor sharp shards of ice –remnants from the explosion—are whipped into a fury by the wind that had brought the moisture to Angosin. The tornado of ice leaves nothing of Wisp. Nothing but dismembered pieces.

Legion cries, its many voices a chorus of grief and rage.

I take a deep, shuddering breath, pushing away my thoughts. Thoughts of how cold the ice must’ve been in order to rip through a being wreathed in flame, and how dangerous someone who could do that would be. Thoughts of how far I’ve come and how little it has gotten me. Thoughts of how Wisp is dead.

I pull my spear, [Blood Spear of the Unawakened Vampire Lord], from my bag. I force myself to grip it tight, stilling my trembling palms. I square my shoulders and find my resolve, letting the breath go.

Any beast will fight when cornered and I am very much cornered. Nowhere to run, a finite amount of Source. No secret reserves to call upon. Just me and my companions. But… I am no beast. I am a monster and I intend to fight like one.