The Battle of Death Mountain: Staging

[Gildarts]

The small cat draped over his shoulder and was bouncing up and down, "Where're we going?" her bright eyes never wavered from the path that carried them beyond a forest, past a portal leading into a haze of white, then beyond a thick cloud of gray, they were plunged into a new world. One so distinctive the pair reminisced on how they both had been introduced to the Omniverse, neither experience was pleasant for the prime nor the feline, yet they had united in arms and spirits, though Piqui had yet to know that she had been transplanted worlds apart from Magnolia.

The Ashen Steppes certainly lived up to the name, though it was ambiguous if either of the wayfaring travelers knew of it. Gildarts had a indiscernible expression chiseled into his face, one that would not be swayed by any swell of putrid smoke or splurge of molten lava in his way. Beyond the two, lay more of the same. Black rubble, sharp mountains of hardened obsidian, and enough thick smoke to fill a smoker's lungs for a lifetime. Not to mention the heat, it was a strain on his still healing bones, which had had some time to rest before he had finally set out on this journey once more. Gildarts had been determined to leave, even though he had wanted to visit Ambrosia again, for the simple fact that with the Malefactor in his mind, he could no longer be sure if it would eventually be corroded. Living on the edge was terrible, but it was worth it if the creature did not possess others and use their bodies to create mass genocide. Gildarts sighed. The Malefactor had stayed quiet for the last couple of days, too quiet,  Gildarts suspected it wouldn't last. The creature would always thirst for something. He thought that it might find sanctity and sanity in peace instead of blood, or perhaps something it could only get a taste of such as manhood.

The Malefactor could never have that. Yet, by possessing people and using them to create death, it surely had developed a taste for blood. Meanwhile, on the hike ascending a generous incline into the volatile sky, Gildarts breathed in so much of the volcanic cloud, he could feel the acid burning in his nose, and traces of black soot could be found on his tongue.

Piqui had started purring, but then when her eyes started unnecessarily tearing, she realized that this climate was no joke. Her fluffy fur started to wilt and stain and smudge with sludge, her nose wouldn't stop throbbing, and her wings, had they been large with balance enough to float, surely would've been torn straight in two. The exceed was quite unhappy and relinquished her joyous position on the man's shoulder to hide in his bag, slung over his shoulder, which still had some fresh air in it, and Piqui gladly gobbled it up in hopes to soothe her scorched lungs.

The trail leading forward, spun on, to the cat's eyes, much like a twirling ball of yarn, slowly unwinding at every new curve. Molten lava spewed before him, and nearly nicked his inorganic arm. His gaze seethed with more heat than the fire as the prime extended his hand and blasted the squirting liquid into cubes of still steaming stone. Specks glowed bright red at his feet, while the oblivious prime counted his fingers - still five, phew! - and then counted his luck. Gildarts had been lead here by an inkling. His gut sometimes told him where to go and he followed. Usually there was a mission for him to complete at the end of the venture, other times, adventure crossed him and intercepted him along the way.

"You there!" An old voice howled from afar.

The prime must've had wax in his ears the source of the voice grew nearer with the soft trampling of footsteps atop stone, "I say, you there sir!"

The mighty prime spun around on the old man, probably giving him a fright as the Fairytail wizard's cape swished like that of the grim reaper. Gildarts' stone face bore down on the elderly man with a spark of curiously, while his eyebrows rose up, "Eh? Do you mean me?"

"Yes, you! At this rate you'll tread right through the mine fields, and I don't even mean the good kind, just take a look for yourself," the man's withered index finger pointed to the hazy horizon.

At first, Gildarts saw nothing, however then, bringing forth into his view as a few clouds shifted and thinned, the Prime saw the smoldering spouts of many chutes erupting from the ground, just like the spurt of lava he had just encountered. The one that had nearly melted his arm off. It was like a backwards waterfall, yet intent on ambushing any who stepped on it. It was a minefield. Triggered by the slightest toe-touch.

Or at least, that's what the man was saying, "... So that's why you can't go there. Hey, are you even listening? Guh, you must be one of those primes I heard were passing through, well, go on then, Death Mountain is that way!"

"Death Mountain?" He mused his inquiry.

"Sure, you know, that menacing thing on the horizon past the magma geysers. That thing you're walking in the direction of. Only t'ing for miles m'friend, aside from that there village down there."

Gildarts gulped, suddenly the air felt as though it were stinging his eyes and his throat felt dry, "How long have I been walking?" The prime looked around the sky and saw no real sense of light, save the ominous glow from the orange unquenchable fires. He licked his chapped lips and drew blood along the little course lines of skin.

"Beats me, but if yer thirsty, you can come this way, and I'll get you a glass of water from the tavern or something." The old man hobbled back to a hidden village that looked like a couple of shacks from this perspective, the rest of the buildings were hidden behind the crest of the small hill. He tossed his head back and saw the prime's contemplative squint and beckoned again with his hand, "Well, come on then!"