Amongst bolts of crimson lightning and ash-choked clouds, the air war between the hellions of Grand Exodus and the defenders of the Underworld was waged. The bodies of eviscerated fiends, crippled keres and broken revenants joined the burning rain of the ongoing hellstorm that ravaged the Fields of Punishment. To the raven-winged Hand of Death, however, it was less a war for the fate of his only home than it was a particularly bitter harvest of souls. While he had to admit that this harvest was putting up more of a fight than his usual prey, the pitiless Reaper found their efforts no more irksome than a mortal thinking it could bargain with him.

“Pathetic creatures.” The dark daemon scoffed as it effortlessly relived a charging devil of its wings with a smooth swing of his scythe. “Your false hope only prolongs your suffering.”

“We have suffered enough!” A hellion roared as it slammed into the Hand’s back and tried to plunge a sword into his neck. “Tartarus will no longer be cont-ack!”

The demon choked on its words as a barbed scourge wrapped around its throat. One sharp tug later and the fiend was ripped off his target while the thorn-like metal spikes shredded its windpipe. The Grim Reaper looked over his shoulder to find the youngest Erinyes flying behind him, his attacker hanging limply by her instrument of torture.

"I suppose I should thank you, Tisiphone." The Hand said dryly. "These hellions are quite the nuisance."

“True but oh how they bleed.” The ever perky daemon grinned wolfishly as she gave her whip another tug and tore off the demon’s head entirely. “Is it wrong that I find this fun?”

“No shame in finding enjoyment in one's duty, dear sister.” Megaera commented in her usual even keel as she throttled an unfortunate hellion between her legs. “Even I find this conflict... invigorating.”

“As do I.” Alekto joined the aerial conversation after slamming a foe down to the Fields with an overhead blow. “But let us not forget that this is war, not sport.”

"On a similar subject, how are the new revenants faring?" The youngest Erinyes asked with an offhand backhand that caved in a sneaky hellion's face.

"Well enough." The Hand of Death shrugged as he claimed another soul with a swing of his weapon of choice. "The Hidden One had to resurrect them earlier than I anticipated but they have not been overwhelmed yet."

"You do not like their- hey!" Tisiphone was cut off by a fiend blindsiding her and inadvertently getting a claw under her already low neckline. "Ah! No touching!"

"You really need to invest in a breastplate, sister." Megaera advised as she pulled off the touchy hellion and casually snapped its neck. "And I mean something that protects them not serves them up on a plate."

"Yeah, maybe." The now exposed Fury begrudgingly admitted. "But I have discovered that they make effective distractions in combat."

"Perhaps but it also makes a tempting target for more strong-willed enemies." Alekto said as she stripped off an outer layer of her own clothing and passed it to her sister. "Nothing says 'stab here' like exposed flesh."

"The Agents of Vengeance everyone." The Reaper muttered to the universe at large.

"What was that?" All three rounded on the Hand in unison.

"Nothing!" The daemonic reaper said quickly.

While the four spoke and argued, a very different type of monster made itself known. The daemons were forced to scatter as a runic dragon cut through the raging storm, its roar drowning out the noise of battle. They watched as the glyph covered drake batted away keres and revenants that tried to waylay it with a few beats of its mighty wings.

“They have a dragon.” Megaera stated the obvious. “This may prove to be troublesome.”

“I know this one.” Alekto recalled entering the dragon's name and his sins into her ledger. “Rubric: A scholar that delved too deep into forbidden knowledge. Not a true fighter but that is almost irrelevant when one is a giant, flying, fire-breathing lizard.”

"Sounds like a challenge." Tisiphone grinned as the heretical salamander flew over the battlelines, jets of dragonfire immolating defenders and demons indiscriminately. "If none of you wish to face it-"

“I will.” The Hand of Death interrupted as he hefted his scythe. “It has been centuries since I have harvested the soul of a dragon.”

"Aw, but I-" Thee youngest Erinyes complained only for her eldest sister to place a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Hold, Tisi. We cannot commit all our strength against a single foe." She explained firmly. "The Hand excels at eliminating high-value targets while we are better used against lesser foes."

"He is an assassin, we are warriors." The middle Fury summarized. "At least Alek and I are."

"Shut up, Meg!" Their youngest sister glared daggers at her as she finally properly covered herself. "You have your nose stuck in a book most of the time!"

The scythe-wielding daemon folded his wings and dove after the wyrm, leaving the Erinyes to another one of their familial quibblings. While he did not particularly care for their seemingly endless arguing, he could not fault them. He had a few siblings of his own and he would be lying if he claimed that they all got along. Still, the Grim Reaper loved them or as close to love the manifestation of Death itself could get.

"I really should check in with my brother." The dark daemon reminded himself. "Make sure he is aware that a world exists outside of his."

Filing away his fraternal duties for later, the Hand fell in behind the dragon and did his best to remain undetected. The Reaper noticed that they had left the thick of the battle behind and were now above the skirmishers. Below he could pick out the armored forms of the Praetorian Gigantes annihilating anything unfriendly that got in front of them. Another call from the dragon got the daemon's attention as the beast began to circle over a section of the Fields. From what he knew of draconic hunting behavior, the heretic had spotted his prey and was closing in. This was also when dragons were at their most dangerous barring messing with their hordes. The Reaper gained altitude and held position over the circling wyrm to wait for an opening. He was an assassin, not a warrior after all.

Down on the scorched ground amidst the maelstrom of battle, the revenants and demons continued their seemingly endless struggle. Neither seemed able to get a significant advantage over the other as demonic reinforcements continued to pour in and the defenders were periodically resurrected by their patron. The one exception among the literal Undying was the mortal magician. While Lulamoon's colorful tricks and professional illusions lacked the raw killing power of her fellows, none could deny the fact that they possessed the uncanny ability to befuddle and impair the forces of the Grand Exodus. Unfortunately for the azure magician, the demons had singled her out from the rest of the battlemages, not a difficult task thanks to her star-spangled hat and cape, and made her a priority to eliminate as violently as possible.

“Run out of tricks, witch?” A demon snarled as he and his cohorts advanced on a seemingly cornered Lulamoon. “No more fireworks?”

“That depends on your definition of firework.” The former showmare smirked confidently as she pointed to the fiend’s cloven hooves.

The demons looked down to find that they were standing in the middle of a freshly etched rune. Their prey sent a single spark of magic into the glyph, causing it to glow an angry red. The fiends looked back up to find the unicorn waving farewell to them with a coy smile.

“Oh fu-!” The expletive was cut short in a rather explosive manner.

The rune detonated in a violent burst of unrefined magic, reducing the hellions to a shower of blood and giblets. One of their helms bounced across the ground, coming to a rest at Lulamoon’s hooves. The mortal mage placed a hoof atop it triumphantly.

“Yet another foe falls to the Great and Powerful Trixie!” The unicorn announced to no one in particular. “All of Tartarus stands in awe of her might!”

Her celebration proved premature as something quite large landed a short distance behind her. The magician whirled around to find a dragon looming over her, its glyphs glinting evilly in the infernal lights of Hell. He looked down his snout at the considerably smaller mare before him.

“Ah, is this the infamous sorceress?” Rubric asked rhetorically as he took a few steps closer. “Not a lichess as I had anticipated but a mortal mage enthralled to a deathly deity infamous for his proclivity for anti-magic. What a strange age we find ourselves in.”

“Trixie is inclined to agree.” The magician said lightly as her eyes darted between the drake’s claws and his smoking maw. “But she will have you know that she is not a thrall. Trixie is simply lending her skills to the King.”

“And what an array of skills Trixie possesses: induced combustion, summoned serpents, hexes, curses and the like according to the demons.” The draconic heretic sneered sardonically. “It makes one such as myself wonder how much of your purported talents are genuine and what are just paltry parlor tricks used to fool the gullible and weak-minded.”

“Trixie will show you tricks!” The former hedge mage bristled indignantly as she ignited her horn.

Before the dragon could blink, the azure unicorn fired a beam of magic at his chest. He braced for the blow only for the beam to rather anticlimactically glance off his scales, leaving little more than an ashen smear on his scaley hide. Rubric could not help but chuckle at the lackluster display.

“Was that supposed to hurt, little pony?” The wyrm asked after a healthy chortle.

“That was the plan, yes.” Lulamoon said meekly as her earlier confidence all but evaporated.

“In that case, you will need something more potent.” Rubric said with an evil smile. "Like this."

The dragon reared back and inhaled deeply to show off the defining trait of his species to the unicorn. Even in her limited and minuscule experience with the fire-breathing drakes, the magician knew that she needed to find cover immediately. She dove behind a rocky outcrop just as the salamander unleashed gouts of flame with a deafening roar, charring the ends of her purple cape. Lulamoon pulled her hat down over her head and gritted her teeth as she endured the scorching heat and cacophonic noise that threatened to overwhelm her. After a few moments of sustained burning, Rubric ceased his attack with a gasp and a huff.

“I doubt it but was it that easy to eliminate one of the agents of the Dark Lord?” He wondered aloud as he scanned for any signs of the unicorn.

He got his answer in the form of the mage popping out from behind her cover and firing a solid black beam of Khthonic energy at the scholarly salamander. He flinched as the blast slammed into his chest like a battering ram. Pinpricks of pain danced across his torso but, once again, the worst he had to show for it was another black scorch mark besmirching his glyph covered scales.

“Damn it!” The azure unicorn swore as she looked a viable weakness in the drake’s scaly hide. “What does it take?”

"More than anything you are capable of, I am sure." Rubric said mockingly as he took another deep breath.

Before he could incinerate her, Lulamoon quickly fired off a tendril of magic that transformed into a length of rope. The strand wrapped around the wyrm's snout and held it shut. Rubric arched an eyeridge as if to ask if she was serious and sliced through the bind with a casual wave of a claw.

“Sure, try to tie a dragon’s mouth together.” The mage grumbled in self-depreciation as she turned around and broke into a full gallop away from the now annoyed salamander. “Because that worked so well against an Ursa Minor.”

The heretical scholar unleashed another stream of dragon fire that licked at the azure unicorn hooves as she fled through the rocky terrain. Rubric ceased his assault as his target galloped beyond the range of his breath and took flight to pursue. From the air, he switched from a constant stream of fire in favor of lobbing great balls of devastation down upon the mortal witch. Lulamoon had to juke and dive as the area exploded around her. There was a brief lull in the barrage as the drake took careful aim with his next shot. With a loud ‘Fwoosh’, the ball of fire streaked through the air and landed just shy of the galloping pony. The unicorn was blasted off her hooves and sent rolling across the scorched ground, stinging embers clinging to her fur and cape. She came to a stop on her back, stars dancing in her vision.

“Ah, this takes me back!” The dragon reminisced as he circled above his stunned foe. “Pathetic ponies fleeing for their lives as the countryside burns around them! Let us see if you scream as loud as they did!”

Rubric inhaled deeply in preparation for the killing blow. Lulamoon came to her senses just as he opened his mouth, the light of his flames illuminating the back of his throat. In the split second before she was consumed in an inferno, the magician fire a single bolt of Khthonic energy into the drake’s gaping maw. The nether blast intermingled with the fire and detonated within the dragon’s gullet. The unicorn rolled out of the way as Rubric crashed to the ground in a heap, claws clasped around his neck as he violently hacked up a mix of smoke, fire, and blood.

“Fucking *cough* feculent *hack* foal!” The normally wordy wyrm croaked hoarsely.

“The Grown and Mature Trixie is a mare in her prime, thank you very much.” The mage shot back as she got back to her hooves.

Rubric rounded on the egotistical equine with pure murder in his reptilian eyes. Lulamoon wisely put some space between her and the angry dragon as he reminded her that while he did not have his fire, for the time being, he still had razor-sharp claws and teeth. She narrowly avoided another messy end from a swipe of the drake’s claws as she galloped for one of the Fields of Punishment’s many prison towers, felled by an errant blast from the dueling champion and King. Despite its destruction, the magician hoped the rubble would be able to withstand at least the worst of the dragon's attacks. The magician dove into what was the foundation of the tower just as Rubric’s jaws snapped closed behind her. She was forced to go deeper as the dragon tried to force his maw past the rubble, tongues of angry flame coiling up from his smoldering mouth.

"Think Trixie!" The unicorn told herself. "He's not going give up. There has to be something!"

The azure mage continued to move further into the tower when part of it gave way, allowing Rubric to lunge forward. His jaws closed around one of Lulamoon's hind legs and held fast. The unicorn screamed in pain as residual fire seared her flesh and teeth bit down to the bone. Before she was dragged out of the tower and consumed, Lulamoon quickly charged up a spell she usually used to make flashy entrances and quick exits and fired it at the drake’s nose. The ball of magic exploded over his flared nostrils, filling them with thick smoke and chaff-like confetti. With a roar of pain that turned into an involuntary fit of violent sneezing, Rubric released the mare’s leg and withdrew from the rubble. The unicorn barely had time to cast a healing spell on her maimed leg when a retaliatory blow from the dragon in the form of his fist collapsed part of the artificial cave. As the rubble shifted, the magician discovered an egress in the form of a fissure in the ground that she could only guess was formed when the tower fell. The unicorn quickly hobbled into the crevice as Rubric’s claws demolished the ruined prison in search for her.

“I’ll use your bones to pick my teeth!” The enraged dragon’s now rough voice shouted from outside. “Use that cape as a napkin!”

“You will do no such thing!” The mage shouted back. “There is only one way Trixie likes to be eaten!”

Another fist immediately burst through the ceiling and came down a hair’s breadth where the unicorn was standing. It was made abundantly clear to the unicorn that it would benefit her to remain quiet. Thus Lulamoon carefully wormed her way through the fissure toward the top of the tower as Rubric continued to tear it apart. As she avoided bits of falling stone and iron, the azure mage racked her brain for something, anything she could use against the dragon that did not just make him angrier.

“I knew you were a charlatan! Just a fraud with a bunch of cheap tricks!” The heretical scholar taunted venomously as he tore away a chunk of the tower and peered in. “I just do not know who the bigger fool is: the Void Dragon for putting any stock in your so-called skills or you for thinking you could hold a candle to the likes of me!”

Dark and hated memories of hecklers and naysayers came into Lulamoon’s mind. It appeared that even on the shores of Hell itself she was mocked and ridiculed for her many talents. When she was an entertainer, she dealt with such critics by beating them at their own game. In her mind, this overgrown salamander would be no different. It also occurred to her that she was no longer fettered by the laws of Equestria, magical or otherwise. She waited until she heard Rubric move away from the hole in the wall before she peeked out herself. In front of her was the dragon’s chest, still bearing the scorch marks of her earlier attacks. A sinister idea clicked in the unicorn’s mind.

“This may just work.” The mage murmured as she ignited her horn once again.

The damned dragon was considering just melting down the tower to molten slag to be done with it when he felt a rapid series of impacts on his torso. He looked down to find what appeared to be a desperate unicorn bombarding his chest with ineffective magical bolts. With an exasperated sigh, he dropped back down to crush the offending equine only to catch a glimpse of her tail disappearing into the crevice that ran the length of the fallen tower.

"No wonder I could not find her." Rubric muttered to himself as he mentally traced her path.

While it had fallen, the tower was not completely horizontal. The top third had broken off from the rest as it fell against a rocky ridge, leaving it damaged and leaning but otherwise verticle. If his calculations were accurate, the wily mage would have just reached the very top of the tower where the vacant iron cages hung. Rather than continue their game of seek and destroy, Rubric opted to simply tear open the top of the prison and the ridge behind it with his claws. In the explosion of rock, iron and ash, Lulamoon froze like a mouse caught under a spotlight.

“Ah! There you are!” The drake grinned as he spotted the azure mare standing on a now exposed outcrop. “Nowhere to hide now!”

The unicorn turned to flee but the heretical wyrm headed her off. A few blasts of dragon fire immolated her only avenues of escape, trapping the magician on the narrow spur. Lulamoon backed up against the sheer rock wall as Rubric loomed above her.

"Curtain call, showmare." He rumbled as fire built in the back of his throat.

"Not before the grand finale." The mage said as she pawed the ground with her hooves.

Expecting his foe to raise a shield or take another shot at him, the wordy wyrm was surprised when Lulamoon charged him with Khthonic power streaming from her horn and the amulet around her neck blazing like a miniature sun. He followed her path to his exposed chest, still marred by scorch marks. For the first time in a long time, his slitted eyes widened in pure horror as it dawned on him what the witch was planning. Burned onto his scales directly over his heart was a simple but no less deadly rune. Heedless of his scarred throat, Rubric breathed a veritable inferno of fire flecked with blood in a desperate attempt to stop the mage. Even as the ends of her tail, mane and garments burned and her wounded leg protested, Lulamoon launched herself off the spur at the doomed dragon. The azure unicorn shouted the Khthonic words of power with a crimson gleam in her eyes as her hooves made contact with the ashen rune.

"NO!" The drake cried as he futilely tried to swat the mage away or smear the glyph.

The black rune ignited with a deathly power that cracked the scales beneath it. Rubric’s burning breath hitched in his throat as a piercing cold shot through him like a dagger of ice into his heart. His brilliant glyphs became dull and tarnished as his once impervious scales withered and flaked off his hide like dried paper. With a low groan, the stricken salamander went limp and fell back off the cliff. Lulamoon braced herself as they crashed to the ground with an echoing boom, shockwaves emanating out from the impact. The dragon lay still, staring up at the burning sky as thin plumes of smoke and faintly glowing cinders no more threatening than a wet match wafted up from his gaping maw.

“I'm...not...finished...” Was all Rubric could manage before his death rattle drowned out his last words.

Lulamoon cautiously stood up and tapped a hoof against the deceased drake. She backed off when the scales split and tongues of flame began to spread over the dragon. The purifying flames burned away flesh and corruption, leaving only bones and a few loose scales. Free of its cage, Rubric's very soul washed over his vanquisher as it was drawn out by invisible, irresistible forces. Lulamoon could have sworn she still heard the wordy wyrm's protests. Left standing on the ribcage of the defeated dragon, the victorious mare broke into a triumphant laugh that built into a maniacal cackle that echoed across the immediate hellscape.

“Behold the Supreme and Almighty Trixie!” The azure unicorn shouted to a spectral audience. “You can keep your puny Ursa Minor and useless Alicorn Amulet, Twilight Sparkle! Trixie has vanquished a dragon by herself! She is…is…oh…oh no…”

The magician's celebration proved to be short-lived as an all too familiar feeling of fatigue came upon her. Darkness crept into the corners of her vision as a chorus of harsh whispers filled her ears. The enfeebled mage looked down to see that last spark of magic wink out of the dreamstone. Lulamoon looked back to find that her spectral audience closing in on her; a multitude of damned shades drawn to the living blood in her veins. The Weak and Drained Trixie could not muster the strength to fight back as she sank to her knees and collapsed onto her side. The last thing she saw before the darkness took her was the grim silhouette of a winged figure alighting on the ruins of the prison tower above her, soul-reaping scythe in hand.

The duel between the empowered centaur champion and Khthonic Theoi had carved a path of destruction across the Fields of Punishment. Towers, ridgelines, and entire rock formations had been reduced to rubble as the two exchanged blows. Currently, the pale horse had managed to get on Tirek’s back and was throttling him with the shaft of his bident. The warlock thrashed about in an attempt to dislodge his foe.

“Go to sleep, Tirek.” The Necroarch grunted as he increased pressure on the centaur's windpipe. "Just let it happen."

With only a strangled gasp as his answer, Tirek sank to his knees as darkness began to creep into his vision. Before he succumbed completely, he reached back and managed to grab a fistful of his unwanted passenger’s shadowy robes. With a sharp tug, Tirek yanked the stygian stallion off his back and slammed him into the ground.

“I'll rest *gasp* only once Equestria *gasp* lies in ashes!” The champion snarled between taking in lungfuls of air.

Before the pale horse could respond, the warlock raised his fists and gathered a mix of both malevolent and Titanic power in them. The Khthonic Theoi barely had time to flinch out of the way of the thunderous blow that shook the Fields. The ground cracked and ruptured around the epicenter of an explosion of rock and ruin. In the stillness that followed, Tirek used the lull to collect himself and get back to his hooves. His foe had vanished and he could only assume that the blast had knocked him away.

“I know that didn’t kill you.” He said with an exasperated sigh as he scanned the rubble for any sign of the pallid pony. “But something has got to give.”

“At the rate we're going, I'll have to rebuild all of Tartarus.” The Dark Lord thought as he lay still beneath a fresh layer of rock waiting for the pain to subside from his frame. “Not a bad idea, actually, with the coming power vacuum.”

Rather than immediately extract himself from the pile of broken stone and resume combat with the crimson centaur, the monochrome monarch decided to take a moment to review his tactics. Simply beating the champion to a bloody pulp, while mildly enjoyable, had proven to be ineffective thanks to the Titanic power sustaining him. More concerning to the Theoi, however, was the accursed power of the Rainbow of Darkness.

“I know I can overcome the power of a Titan but that blasphemous relic is another matter.” The Overlord of the Underworld mused. “To say nothing of the stolen souls powering it. If only Grogar had stayed long enough to see where-!”

Before he could complete his thought, Tirek’s armored hand punched through the layer of rubble and smashed against his nose. The centaur seized him by his head and pulled his stunned foe free of the debris. The Theoi could only let out a muffled groan as the warlock held him aloft.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” The champion growled as he balled up his free hand.

The centaur drove his charged fist into the stomach of the pale horse with a solid thud. The stygian stallion let out a pained grunt in response as the dark power shot through his core. Again and again, Tirek delivered blow after blow to the Necroarch until the gauntlet around his fist crumpled and fell apart. The champion then grasped his enemy's head in both glowing hands and began to squeeze, intent on bursting the Theoi Anax’s skull like an overripe melon. At least, that was his plan until his victim’s cranium proved more robust than he anticipated.

"Rgh! It's like crushing diamonds!" The centaur grunted in exertion.

“Around his neck…” The still conscious Lord of Shades noticed from between Tirek’s fingers a malignant light shining out from beneath his cuirass that glowed and pulsated as he used more malignant power to try and crush his head. “Beneath his armor...”

The Dark Lord dug around in the rubble beneath him with a rear leg for his bident. When he heard the telltale sound of hoof on metal, he stamped down hard. The dual-pronged staff popped out of the ground and caught Tirek between his hind legs. The centaur cried out in pain and dropped the Theoi as he reflexively favored his now bruised jewels.

“I’m fine with fighting dirty but that was a low blow!” He snarled in a noticeably higher pitch.

"Whatever works, remember?" The pale horse retorted as he rubbed his now aching head.

"Hmph!" Tirek snorted as he pawed the ground like a bull. "It's only a matter of time before I find what works on you!"

Ignoring the aching pain between his legs, the champion charged his foe once more. As the crimson centaur tried to trample the Necroarch, the Overlord kicked up his heavy staff into to Tirek’s forelegs, earning a sickening crack as it connected with his kneecaps. While the centaur stumbled and fell face-first into the dirt, the Dark Lord retrieved his bident and brought it to bear against his foe. Before he could drive his staff into the champion’s upper back, the centaur whipped a lash of Titanic power with his hand that swept the pale horse off his hooves. Tirek used the precious few seconds this earned to snap his forelegs back into place and build up another mix of Titanic and malevolent power in his hands. He hurled the orbs of hellfire at the Theoi like a pair blazing comets one after the other. The pallid pony ducked the first one as it screamed by a hair's breadth from his head. The second he actually batted back at the centaur with his bident. Not expecting the sudden return, Tirek tried to volley the ball only to catch it square in the face.

“And there’s my window.” The Theoi thought as he exploited his stunned foe’s temporary vulnerability.

The pale horse took careful and measured aim at the centaur and charged forward. With the distinct sound of metal piercing metal, the bident defeated the hellforged breastplate and bit deep. Putting his weight behind his staff, the Theoi forced the bident deeper until the prongs struck flesh. By sheer dumb luck, he had missed the leather satchel containing the Rainbow of Darkness as well as anything vital. It did not take Tirek long to figure out what his foe was trying to do and retaliated with an uppercut to the stallion's chin. He was sent rolling head over hooves but his weapon remained lodged in the champion's torso. Ignoring the pain and smell of anti-magic burning his flesh, the crimson centaur grasped the bident and attempted to yank it free.

"Gah! Come on!" The warlock growled as the two-pronged staff held fast and started burning his hands.

In a testament to the fiendish design of Khthonic weapons and Tirek's own strength, the straps of his cuirass gave out first. The chestplate came free with a burst of buckles and bindings, revealing the furiously beating leather sack and the twin wounds in his rippling pectorals. The centaur sneered at the now useless armor still stuck to the bident as he tossed both away again.

"So that is the Rainbow of Darkness." The Khthonic Theoi said as he eyed the pulsating bag with a critical eye. "I expected such a blasphemous relic to be more...ornate."

"You should have seen the box it came in." Tirek grunted as he cauterized his wounds again. "I take it Grogar told you about it, the damn traitor."

"So we're talking again? Fine by me." The stygian stallion thought as he subtly crept closer to his bident. "Gives me time to think."

"To his credit, he saw that his chances were better with me than with you." He said candidly. "You have a tendency to drive allies away from you: Grogar, Sombra, Discord..."

"Don't! YOU!! DARE!!!" The warlock growled venomously.

"Raw nerve, eh?" The pale horse thought.

"Your own brother." The Theoi finished with a knowing look. "To think, if you had listened to him, you might be living up to that superficial title of 'lord' in Ixion instead of trading blows with me on the shores of Hell."

A roll of thunder above them punctuated that statement. Both the Dark Lord and Infernal Champion looked up to see bolts of crimson lightning streak across the sky and strike the ground around them. A look of nostalgia and realization cross Tirek's face as thoughts of his own homeland and one of its particular ceremonies came to the fore. He returned his gaze to the ashen stallion before him, his previous anger replaced with sadistic anticipation.

"Not the reaction I was expecting." The pallid stallion thought.

"If I had listened to that weak-minded fool, I would be just another of the Princesses' errand boys shackled by their syrupy words and hollow platitudes." The Ixionian said with conviction as he grasped the pulsating satchel. "I once swore I would ascend to the highest echelons of power and never have I strayed from that path."

"Look where that path has led you." The Theoi pointed out. "Betrayals, no less than two defeats at the hooves of Equestria and servitude to a madmare."

"I did not say the path would be easy." The centaur retorted. "And after decades of blood, sweat, toil and torment, I think it is time I take the final step!"

With a sharp tug, the centaur snapped the small bag off his neck and held it toward the stricken sky. The hellstorm seemed to intensify above them as fiendish power called out to the tempest. The fur of both warlock and monarch stood on end as the air became charged with hellish static. Power coalesced above the warlock with a sustained rumble of thunder that sounded suspiciously like laughter to the Necroarch. Bolts fell around them sporadically before the sky was split by a crack of blood-red lightning. It struck Tirek's outstretched hand and the malevolent relic held within. Rather than be obliterated, the Rainbow of Darkness began to burn with black flame as the centaur used it as a catalyst to siphon off the raw power of Tartarus itself through the lightning. The leather satchel burned away like paper, freeing the artifact of its inhibitors and adding a chorus of muted but malicious whispers to the stormy symphony.

“I feel like I should be stopping this.” The stygian stallion thought as he charged the warlock.

This proved to be ill-conceived as a stray bolt of lightning struck right in front of him and knocked the Theoi back across the ground. From his prone position, the monochrome monarch beheld the Ixionian struggle with the relic for a moment before he slammed it against his chest. Tirek was completely engulfed in the sustained fulmination as the Rainbow of Darkness sank into his very being. With a pained grunt that transformed into almost maddened laughter, the centaur spread his arms wide as his body became acclimated to its new addition and began to change.

“Oh, this bodes poorly.” The still prone Theoi thought as the manifest evil in front of him rose a short distance off the ground.

Tirek’s laughter dropped like an anvil into depths of the bass register as his frame expanded. What little armor he had left split and crumbled as bones and muscles grew to titanic proportions. The transformation ended in a blast of power that radiated across the Fields of Punishment. The ongoing battle was brought to an abrupt stalemate as both armies were knocked flat by the blast. Demon, revenant, and daemon alike turned and looked toward the looming figure that now dominated the burning horizon. Cloven hooves the size of homesteads shook Tartarus to its foundations as they landed on the stricken ground. Black lightning crackled across a living mountain of muscle and sinew with blue-black veins running across the physique like corrupted streams. A wild mane of silver hair billowing like a war banner in the ash-choked wind filling the role of the snowcap of said mountain. Crowning this enormous edifice was a twin pair of ebony horns that reached into the hellish sky. Between the towering protrusions, the infernal magic of the Titan and the insidious power of the Rainbow of Darkness had manifested in the form of a sphere of burning energy like a miniature sun. With the raging hellstorm providing the backdrop to his unholy ascension, the new Shaggoth let a primal roar of power that was heard all across the Sunless Lands and beyond; a challenge to any who would dare stand against the demonic Infernal Champion of the Grand Exodus.

“So, this is the power that eclipsed that of the Alicorns.” The Dark Lord thought as he looked up at the veritable Titanic Tirek. “And me without a little crystal treasure chest.”

With a tired sigh, the Lord of Shades finally retrieved his bident and used it to get back to all fours. He then deliberately struck his staff on a few rocks to both make sure Tirek’s attention remained on him and to free it of the hunk of armor stuck on the end. The colossal Shaggoth looked down at the comparatively smaller Necroarch, his eyes alight with hellfire.

"YOU STAND BEFORE A STORM THAT WILL SWEEP THE WORLD CLEAN OF TRAITORS, SYCOPHANTS, TYRANTS AND GODS ALIKE, POL'YDEGMON!" Tirek pointed a tree-sized finger at the Khthonic Theoi as his voice caused the very ground to shake. "AND I HAVE BEEN NAMED ITS HERALD!"