Chapter 9: Firestorm

Victor Vex stood by a large stone doorway, hidden deep within the woods. All matter of life ran from the increasing heat borne by the large man's impatience. I should just blow this door open right now. He held himself back. A turret of fire might not be the best thing for a forest in the middle of summer. Still, that didn't stop a few dry leaves from bursting into flames. For the love of- Victor's thought was cut short by a heavy thud. Penitulus Ren arrived from the sky with a wide smile. "Victor," he said as he stomped out the flame, "You really should learn to control your temper."

"I wouldn't have to," His voice was rough as his face twisted into a scowl, "If you weren't so insufferable." Penitulus Ren laughed as he clasped Victor's shoulder. He quickly pulled his hand away and blew on his singed palm. This brightened Victor's mood, slightly.

"Shall we be off then," Penitulus Ren said as he stepped for the door.

"At your convenience, oh great one." Penitulus shook his head, and with little effort opened the stone doorway. A flow of air flooded into the pitch blackness, as though it was filling a void. Penitulus whistled.

"Now that's dark," he said. He glanced at Victor who rolled his eyes in advance, "Good thing one of us is a walking flashlight." Victor grunted and a bloom of flames slipped through his teeth.

"Insufferable," He repeated, turning his palm upward where a small flame sprouted. It danced in the wind. Happily lighting their faces. "Let's go," he said as he stepped past Penitulus, and into the darkness that shied away from his creation. The flame flickered as a gust of wind blew in from the closing stone door.

They walked for a good while. Victor's flame a refuge from dead blackness. They were silent as they walked. A result of steady worry, though Victor would never admit that he was worried. Of course, neither would Penitulus. He was perfectly content with the silence, though, silence is fleeting when Penitulus is around.

"The Exacore then," he finally said, "Tell me, Victor, what do you know about it?"

"Bad things," Victor answered. Penitulus - who was in front of him now - grunted, probably a laugh.

"What kind of bad things?"

"The mass genocide kind. Why?"

"I'm just thinking, what would Draven want with it? Trying to see what he sees." Anger rolled deep within Victor at the sound of his name. Like a rumble of distant thunder, promising a terrible tempest. Penitulus glanced back, his image wavy through the heat radiating from Victor. He took a sharp breath in through his nose, pressing down the heat.

"That's dangerous," he said, "Trying to understand a madman."

"A risk I'm willing to take. Considering how powerful this one is." An image of a city desolated flashed before Victor's eyes. That day had truly seemed the end of the world. He still couldn't believe that a single man could do something like that. He gazed at his palm, into the flame. Of course, he thought, I could probably do the same. He glanced up at Penitulus, So could he, and a handful of other people. It's a wonder the world hasn't ended already.

It wasn't long after that that they approached another stone door. Larger than the first. Heavier to be sure, though that hardly mattered to Penitulus. While the difference in weight was likely tonnes, to Penitulus, it might as well have been the difference between a feather and a leaf. With no effort, he opened the massive door and a white light shone out. Victor ousted his flame and gave his eyes a few seconds to adjust. When they did, he could appreciate the sight.

The room was wide and the ceiling high and built from thousands of crystals that shone a pure white light. The room was well built from greyish-white stones with swirling patterns. The meticulous crafting was interrupted by a pile of boulders at the center of the room. They approached. Penitulus stopped at the pile and knelt, examining them. Victor continued forward, surveying the room.

"Runes," Penitulus said from behind, "This thing is - was a golem. Looks like it's been through, well, me. Not an easy thing to accomplish."

As Victor walked evidence of a fight became clear. Parts of the stone floor were broken and there were stray claw marks about. What happened here? He knelt for a rock broken from its place on the floor. He inwardly shuddered when he felt unexpected moistness. He turned the rock over and saw a black sludge-like substance. He pulled it closer, and it moved. He dropped the rock instantly and watched as the sludge slimed its way between his legs. He noticed lines of it moving. past him. He turned. "Penitulus!"

A creature of sludge towered behind Penitulus. It had the vague shape of a human but was twisted with limbs forming, melting and, reforming constantly. Penitulus turned but was too slow to react. A massively muscled arm formed. The size contorted the rest of the sludge, shrinking other parts making the already large limb seem that much out of place. With a backhand, it slapped Penitulus sending him skipping across the stone floor like a rock on water and eventually into a wall creating a large plume of dust and debris.

Victor readied a slither of flame but the Sludge flooded forth, slamming into him, plunging his world into sheer blackness. He felt it force its way into his mouth and nose and down his throat. He couldn't take a breath. He couldn't make a flame. He felt a hand grab and pull him. Light. Penitulus slammed his hand Into Victor's gut which made the amount of sludge that made its way in, come out in a wretch.

"Thanks," Victor forced between rasped breaths. He wiped sludge from his beard and watched as it jumped from his hand to rejoin with the rest.

"Happy to hit you any time," Penitulus said before launching towards the sludge. Victor stood and reoriented himself with a sharp breath. Then he remembered. Claw marks. He saw claw marks. And that thing didn't have claws. A terrible screech rattled his bones and a blurry figure slammed into Penitulus before he could reach the sludge.

"Shit," Victor hissed as his eyes followed them. A movement in the corner of his told him that was a mistake. The sludge flooded towards him again. Not this time. It made its way for his nose and mouth. Victor pressed his lips together and forced a turret of flames from his nostrils forcing the creature back. It circled him. The sound of shattering rock let him know that Penitulus was preoccupied.

He kept his eyes on the primary mass of the sludge, shaped like a man, slinking about. A face formed. It seemed, solemn. "Hello Victor," It said, words gurgled.

"Draven," The word slipped from Victor's lips with a plume of flame.

"You should stay out of my way," it said, "This doesn't have to be bloody." Victor roared and sent turrets of flames from his fists. The sludge slinked and contorted out the way before lunging forward. Victor prepared to blow flame from his nostrils again, expecting it to attempt its earlier stunt when it ducked down and slammed into his feet sending him face-first into the ground. The sludge whirled around and lifted him high up into the air. Time seemed to slow as the sludge took shape above him. Two hands loomed, clasped into a single fist. It came down, knocking all the air from his lungs, and sent Victor down so hard he broke through the floor and landed in what seemed to be a large underground lake.

The sludge formed around him. Victor felt his lungs burning, saw his vision darkening, felt himself sinking. And through all of that, he heard the sludge's words, Draven's words. It came clear, unaltered.

"I'm sorry," he said solemnly, "About your wife, I wish it didn't have to be that way."

The image of a bloody, scarred face flashed before his eyes. Distant thunder rolled, and a terrible tempest burst forth. Doing its best to full fill its promise.

Firestorm.

It was over in a literal flash. Victor found himself at the bottom of the lake. Boiling rain fell from clouds of steam. The last remnants of the body of water. He won. But it was hollow. That thing wasn't Draven. But it proved how much power he still had over Victor. He squeezed his eyes shut. The rain stung but he preferred it to the other pain. It seemed he laid there for an eternity before Penitulus finally came. "Glad to see you alive," Penitulus said. Victor grunted a response. Even that hurt. He could feel the breaks in his bones grinding against each other. Silence.

"He got it," Penitulus said. "The Shard."

Another grunt.

"And those manifestations," he trailed off. But Victor understood. Two S-Class creations at the same time. "He's back Victor."

He's Back.