The interaction had done exactly what Mike wanted.
It was time to draw more attention.
By midday the sky above the inland plains had turned the color of bronze, heat rippling over the dry earth in shimmering waves. Below him, the great fire he had started still crawled across the grasslands in a blackened line, thick smoke twisting upward in towering pillars.
A challenge.
A middle finger to every arrogant god.
Mike circled above it with slow, deliberate beats of his wings, eyes narrowed against the rising haze. The land below was unfamiliar, rolling golden plains broken by clusters of cypress and scrub oak, with distant hills.
He waited. The air began shifting with a heavy pressure.
A weight pressed down across the plains, subtle at first, then growing heavier with every passing breath.
Mike grinned.
"Come and get it fuckers."
The clouds ahead began to twist. A spiral opened in the sky, a great circular vortex of white and gold light. It churned with a growing radiance, bright enough to hurt even his eyes.
Then three figures emerged.
They did not descend quickly.
They floated, slow and deliberate, as if the world itself bent to accommodate their arrival.
Mike hovered in place, watching.
The first was a man clad in bronze scale armor that gleamed like the sun itself. A spear longer than a ship's mast rested in one hand, its tip wreathed in pale blue flame.
The second was a woman in silver robes that moved like living water. Her dark hair drifted around her as if submerged beneath an unseen sea, and in one hand she held a curved sickle of moonlit steel.
The third made Mike's grin widen.
A towering figure of black iron and scarred gold, helm crowned in horns, shoulders broad as a fortress gate. In one gauntleted hand he carried a massive axe whose edge shimmered with divine fire.
The armored man spoke first, his voice rolling across the plains like thunder.
"Kur."
Mike's eyes narrowed.
Again that name and assumption.
He was getting tired of it. Even knowing he had gone into the past.
"I'm Mike," he said flatly.
The silver-robed woman's expression tightened.
"It speaks with mortal tongue."
The horned god laughed once, low and humorless.
"It matters not. The vile beast must be eliminated."
Mike rolled his shoulders, black fire flickering faintly between his scales.
"So," he said, smiling wider, "which one of you wants to die first?"
The spear-wielding god lifted his weapon.
"You have devoured one of the pantheon."
"Yeah."
"You have desecrated sacred ground."
"Who gives a shit." A vicious grin formed on Mike's face.
"You have summoned us with your arrogance."
Mike laughed.
"That one was the point. I'm not going to search for all of you."
The horned god stepped forward through the air, eyes burning like molten metal.
"Then know this, beast. We are not Enki."
Mike's smile sharpened into something feral.
"Good."
The god vanished.
Mike barely had time to react.
One moment the horned figure hovered above the plains.
The next an axe the size of a tree trunk was crashing toward his skull.
Mike twisted sideways.
The blade missed his face by inches and slammed into his shoulder instead.
Pain exploded through him. As he began laughing. "Oh, now we're talking! More!"
His tail lashed out hard enough to crack the sound barrier.
The horned god took the strike across the ribs and was hurled sideways through the air, crashing through one of the smoke pillars in a burst of cinders.
The spear wielder attacked next.
Blue flame lanced across the sky.
Mike snapped his wings hard and dove beneath it, the blast tearing through the air above him and detonating half a hillside in a wave of shattered stone.
He launched upward as his fist collided with the bronze god's jaw.
The impact rang like a bell.
The god's head snapped sideways, but instead of breaking, bronze light flared across his skin and absorbed most of the force.
Mike blinked.
Then grinned.
"Tougher than the last one."
The silver-robed goddess raised one hand.
The air around Mike suddenly thickened.
His body jerked violently.
Moisture condensed from the air around his limbs into bands of crushing pressure, wrapping around his wings and neck.
Mike snarled.
"Oh, fuck off with that."
He inhaled.
Black flame erupted outward.
Steam exploded around him in a blinding cloud.
The restraints shattered.
Below, the horned god erupted from the smoke, axe raised again.
This time Mike met him head-on.
They collided in midair.
Shockwaves rippled across the plains, flattening grass in perfect rings.
Mike was laughing now with pure violent joy.
The kind that made everything else disappear.
The horned god swung again.
Mike caught the haft of the axe in both claws.
Muscles bunched.
The sky rippled around them.
"You're strong," Mike said through gritted teeth.
The god snarled.
"I am a god of war."
Mike head-butted him and the crack echoed for miles.
The god reeled backward, helm dented.
Mike drove both feet into his chest.
The divine warrior plummeted from the sky and slammed into the earth below, carving a trench nearly a hundred yards long.
The spear god came from Mike's blind side.
The spear punched into his flank.
Mike roared as fire erupted through muscle and scale. He turned on instinct and bit down.
His jaws closed around the shaft.
Then he snappedit in half.
The bronze god's eyes widened.
Mike punched him square in the face.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Each blow sent cracks of golden light spiderwebbing across the god's armor.
Then the goddess struck.
The sickle slashed across Mike's back.
Pain flared white-hot.
He spun in the air, claws outstretched, but she flowed backward like mist, robes trailing silver light.
Mike laughed again.
"Come on!"
Below, the earth began to shake.
The horned god rose from the trench.
This time he was no longer alone.
Figures were gathering at the edge of the hills.
Mortal soldiers.
Rows upon rows of them.
Bronze shields.
Iron-tipped spears.
Horse-drawn chariots glinting in the sun.
An army.
Mike stared.
Then burst into delighted laughter.
"Oh you really are going to let them all die for you! Typical coward gods!"
The horned god lifted his axe toward him.
"Bring him down."
The army charged.
For a split second Mike just hovered there, almost stunned by the sheer stupidity of it.
Then instinct took over.
He dove.
He hit the front ranks like a meteor.
The ground exploded.
Men, shields, horses, and splintered chariots were hurled skyward in a storm of blood and dust.
Mike tore through them.
Bodies broke apart with each attack.
Bronze armor melted against black fire.
Spears shattered against his scales.
The gods descended around him.
Now it was chaos.
The horned god struck from the left.
The spear wielder from above.
The silver goddess moved like a ghost between his blind spots.
Mike was lovingit.
He caught the horned god's axe arm and slammed him through a line of chariots.
The bronze god's half-spear pierced his shoulder.
Mike ripped it free and threw it hard enough to pin six soldiers in a row to the ground.
The goddess sliced open his thigh.
He retaliated with a sweeping blast of flame that forced her backward in a spiraling veil of steam.
All around them the battlefield burned.
Above the chaos, on a distant ridge, a single raven landed.
One eye.
Black feathers gleaming like oil.
It watched in silence.
Mike didn't notice.
But far behind the lines, an old man stood among broken stones and dry grass, staff in one hand, deep scowl etched across his weathered face.
His gaze remained fixed on the battle.
He watched Mike tear through another line of soldiers and drive the horned god to one knee.
Sadness flickered across his expression.
"Michael…"
The old man's voice was barely above a whisper.
"You were sent here to understand."
The raven shifted, then took flight.
It vanished westward.
Toward lands of colder skies.
The old man sighed.
"But instead you revel in the slaughter."
On the battlefield, Mike drove his claws into the horned god's shoulder and ripped him backward.
The axe fell from divine fingers.
Mike caught it.
Then grinned.
"Oh, this is nice."
He swung.
The blade cleaved through the bronze god's chest plate.
Golden blood sprayed across the scorched earth.
The spear god screamed in fury and charged.
Mike met him with the giant axe.
The clash rang like thunder. A shockwave rippled across the battlefield.
The old man closed his eyes briefly.
His voice turned colder.
"He has chosen to be the catastrophe."
On the field, Mike's laughter rolled like wildfire.
Now the gods themselves were beginning to understand what they were dealing with.
Mike threw back his head and roared into the burning sky.
"WHO'S NEXT?"
The answer came in the form of more light opening above the clouds.
More figures descending.
More gods.
Mike's grin widened until it hurt.
Perfect.