>>5619397https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCEDfZgDPS8Patience is, as always, the key to victory.
Best to pick the cloud apart first, get it on its metaphorical knees, then go in for the kill.
And since the Blade of Flame seems to be doing the trick, you see no reason to diverge from your previous tactics, slicing it with more flaming projectiles to to cut it down to size.
After getting it down to maybe half of its original size, you notice that the cloud has abruptly ceased in its relentless collection efforts, almost like it’s dazed or confused. You seize the opportunity with both hands and begin mustering up the necessary energy for a particularly strong Twister.
In an attempt to bolster your efforts, you leverage every single language you’ve had the chance to pick up along your various journeys; a few stanzas from the Lord’s Prayer in Latin and Russian, a blessing of Hestia in Greek, concluded with some exuberant cursing in Spanish when the strain begins to be too much.
It might sound a bit sacrilegious, but you’d praise the goddamn Easter Bunny if it’d make this a little easier.
And your skill or piety proves to be sufficient, because the winding arcs of fire from the Blade of Flame mix easily with the frenetic whirlwind caused by Twister, uniting into a pillar of flame worthy of the nickname of “fire devil.”
The dark cloud is smack-dab in the center of your natural disaster, and is rent asunder by the scorching winds. While it writhes and burns as if it were screaming, you pull back from the burning remnant of the mining tower while still keeping a close watch on its violent dissolution.
As you do so, an idle thought leaps into your mind. Usually, there’s at least a brief flicker of remorse that implores you to show mercy to a defeated foe; a twinge of guilt courtesy of a long-neglected conscience.
In most cases, you stomp it out pretty quick alongside whichever asshole had the misfortune of crossing your path and getting in the way. This time is a little different, in that the aforementioned glimmer of clemency doesn’t appear for even a second.
It’s almost like the visceral <span class="mu-r">wrongness</span> of that eerie smog triggered some kind of primordial instinct that demanded such a thing not exist if you could help it. Rage and hate are more than old friends at this point, but this particular emotion dwarfs even those juggernauts. Perhaps your magic is to blame?
Either way, it’s something to keep an eye out for in the future.
