The Behemoth blinked, finding himself in a completely different room, this one composed entirely of blinding golden light. Even more frustrating was the fact Bryan Bannerson was back, grinning mockingly as always. How he longed to wipe the grin from the old man’s face.
Behemoth don’t attack him, it’s a trick! Called Brucien’s voice in the back of his head. The Behemoth roared loudly. The only upside to this day was that Brucien had remained silent for most of it.
“Please creature, I beg of you, don’t destroy the seal!” he glanced over his shoulder and saw a man in blue and green robed and a red cape behind him. The man looked weak, with greying temples and a thin goatee; he was no threat.
“Pathetic!” yelled Bryan derisively as he looked around the room, “there’s no way out and yet you still can’t catch me?!”
“Rrrrrraaaaggghhh!” the Behemoth charged the man and both Brucien and the robed man cried out in dismay.
He missed the three large items in the room though, and looked around confused as Bryan had vanished once more.
“You won’t catch me, not the way you’re trying,” laughed the old man, “the only way you could do it was it you smashed that big round seal over there, and we both know that’s much to strong for you!”
“I’m the strongest one there is!” screamed Behemoth.
Stephanos, who couldn’t see the conversation taking place, could still see the Behemoth eying the Seal angrily. He couldn’t use the same spell against the demon he had used earlier, as that threads of magic required for that had been temporarily depleted. There had to be another way!
Don’t listen; he wants you to break the seal! Cried Brucien, Don’t be his tool!
“I am no one’s tool!” Screamed the grey goliath who reached out and grabbed the nearest thing; the Hammer of Korr.
Stephanos cried out “No!” thinking the beast meant to smash the Seal with it. The word of a very dark, spell were on the edge of his lips, one that would consume his soul and banish the beast to the Void but he hesitated as he felt the ethereal hand of his Master upon his shoulder. The ghostly Ancient One said nothing, but it was clear he wanted his pupil to wait.
The Behemoth hefted the giant warhammer, with a head the size of a barrel and a shaft longer than a man was tall, quite easily. He swung the weapon toward the Seal, but it fell short, striking the illusionary Bryan Bannerson in the chest.
The man shrieked as the hammer smashed him against the glowing wall, a shocked look in his eyes. Soon his features shifted to that of a ghostly white man with hot red eyes, wrapped in a black cloak.
“Nightmare!” exclaimed the Sorcerer Supreme, recognising the Lord of Nightmares for his years of studying the arcane.
For all intents and purposes, the demon should not be on the physical plane. He too appeared shocked as he constantly looked upon his hands and touched his chest.
“What…what did you do?!” Screeched the demon at Stephanos.
“It must have been the hammer!” Stephanos was amazed. The hammer once belonged to the lost god Korr who forged the world of Erith in the heart of the void. Of course Ignas filled the world with fire for warms and the Trinity covered parts with water to balance out the heat, but it was Korr’s creation of the world’s structure that was the first step in the creation of life.
Somehow, the hammer had made Nightmare corporeal; it had built structure out of nothing. Just like Korr had done with Erith.
“I’m so…solid!” Nightmare spat the word like it was dirty. It would seem he had forgotten about the hulking beast he had been enraging for the past several hours.
For the first time ever, Brucien encouraged the Behemoth to destroy.
Smash him! Cried the alchemist.
The demon screamed and raised its hands in a pitiful defence as the godly hammer came crashing down upon him with a disgusting crunching splat. The Behemoth did something surprising then; it smiled and breathed a huge sigh.
“I said I was going to smash him,” it dropped the hammer and amazingly began to change.
“What…” a surprised Stephanos began to ask but he was silenced by a raised hand from his bead master.
Where once stood a hulking grey brute, there was now a skinny, nearly naked man. He collapsed to his knees and began to cry.
“I made some investigations in the spirit planes,” stated the Ancient One, “this young man is unwilling host to the Behemoth, but he has not wholly become the Behemoth.”
“It…it comes out when I get angry,” said the man, who rose to his feet unsteadily. “You have to kill me, before it comes out again!”
Stephanos glanced towards the Seal of Agamotto; they had come so close to unleashing hell of Erith. Could he risk letting this man live? There was no real argument, he could never kill an innocent man.
“There’s been enough death and destruction for one day friend,” said Stephanos calmy, placing a reassuring hand upon his bare shoulder, “What is your name?”
“I am Stephanos Le’Strange, Archmagister of Sanctus and Sorcerer Supreme. I’m going to help you with your problem.”
A wide smile spread across Brucien’s face, and not even the Behemoth raging in the back of his mind could wipe it away.