I got this idea when I picked up TEN again.
Setting: The burning airship.
Darkspyro as the main character here. C;
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

This is too little.
Too little of a challenge.

Sure they have a multitude of pirates and fodder to slow him down, but that isn't the problem.
This ship is burning, yet the fools have the nerve to follow commands and try to recapture him.

Spyro snorted at the half-dead mutt who was giving his all into throwing his fist on the dragons head.
He darted upwards and began shredding the mutt, attacking faster than most could bear.
The creature collapsed onto the wood. Internal body parts, rock hard and cauterized before he even fell to the ground, slithered out of the stomach.

There is a plentiful amount of them now, circling him, throwing every last bit of strength into this final blow.

Spyro grinned, summoning his abilities to their limits and beyond. Purple energy rippling over his scales, devouring everything alive.
It expanded into a radius, knocking away any creature close to him.

That would've been enough, but, of course, it isn't.

The radius of energy came back into Spyro, he closed his eyes.
The pure, untarnished feeling right before this release… it's elating. The feeling right before plummeting from a fall, without fear…
This is it.

It's gone as soon as it came, the energy became cracking electricity, everything he had in him, became a poison.

The pirates could've handled being knocked away, they could understand the feeling of being surrounded.
But nothing could prepare them for this.

It's poisonous, burning and crackling at the same time. Charcoaling their skin and decaying it instantly. They can't scream at this, too fast.
Once would have been enough, but instead…

As the energy and lightning began to fluctuate back into the small dragon, and it was thrown back at them, a single thought entered their minds, unified and connected.

Let it stop.

The agony of being ripped and burnt over and over, shredded to the core. Spyro thinks it's all so perfect.
Nothing could've prepared them for this moment, these seconds of flame and poison, everything is coalesced. Coalesced like threads of eternity.

As they finally hit the ground and make their last screams, Spyro floats delicately to the wood beneath him. Gems blossom from the vanishing corpses, as the battle cries of the next wave are drowned out by one, sober feeling from Spyro.

Regret.

Even as the high of death begins to plummet and crush him, he greedily circles the area, taking in every last speck of life from the gems.
As the awareness of Spyro goes up, he began reconsidering.
He stopped in front of a cluster that had fallen from the pirate. A single thought crosses his mind as his head drops in shame.

What would Ignitus have said?