He was falling.

Fast.

And Far.

The void rushed past him in a fury of pitch-black streaked with crimson-red, circling around his plummeting form like a maelstrom of fire and darkness; the roar of the wind drowned out his thoughts, and the heat of the flames licked against his skin. It was as if he was falling through the inside of a tornado made of fire, the winds whipping around in to form a tunnel leading downwards…or perhaps a more accurate description would be it was like he as in a dark whirlpool, being pulled down by the mighty, swirling current into the dark, dark abyss.

Never to see the light of the sun again.

Most people, under such circumstances, would most likely be panicking for their very lives, terrified beyond comprehension. They would most likely scream, cry, beg for help for whatever higher power they believed in for salvation. As was the nature of the weak and the mortal.

But he was by no means weak, or even mortal, and there was only one emotion he felt right now:

Rage. Pure, primal, animalistic rage.

His own bestial roar of fury was so loud it pierced through the winds like a gunshot through the silence of the night. The flames hot enough to melt metal brushed harmlessly against his scaly skin, leaving not even so much as a smudge of soot; said flames were nothing compared to those burning from his very eyes, the gold and lavender tongues blazing all the way to the bases of his horns. His long tail thrashed through the swirling winds with anger, its long spines tearing holes in the edges of the vortex. His large, featherless wings beat against the winds, desperately trying to gain control of his descent into…wherever he was going, but to no avail. His talon-like claws tore at the streams of smoke around him, and his dagger-like teeth snapped shut on empty air, as if he could find the source of his predicament in the chaos around him. And his brilliant purple scales glimmered in the dim light like gemstones, as did his golden underbelly and bronze horns.

He was a beast known by many names, throughout many worlds. Some were titles bestowed upon him by birthright, inherited from his ancestors during the time they influenced the universe, while others he had earned himself through his actions, which influenced millions of lives across the universe. Some worshipped him as a god, singing his praises and giving thanks for all his actions had done to better their lives. While others damned him as a demon akin to the Devil himself, cursing his very existence and seeing him as nothing more than a monster needing to be slain; the majority of these, however, were of the wicked or the cowardly, who didn't approve of the fact he actively sought to destroy their ways of life, purging the world of evil and idiocy alike and reforging them with his power over the elements.

Jendovahzoor, The Purple Dragon, the Son of Akatosh, the Lord of Time, the Heir of Gojira, the Thane of Nimh, the Primal God of Vengeance, and the Son of Malefor. These were but a few of many, many titles he had earned for himself across the world of Tamrizeroth.

But to those who knew him personally, such as his family, allies, and friends, he was simply known as Spyro the Dragon.

And he was fucking pissed.

He could not remember the events that led up to this situation; the entire day itself was a blur of fog, color, and noise. Everything looked and sounded like it was submerged deep in murky water within his mind's eye. And now he found himself here: in this 'vortex of darkness', being pulled down into…somewhere.

He didn't know where, and he couldn't have cared less: wherever it was, it was away from his Home. From his Domain. His People. His family.

His mother.

Whoever was responsible for this…who had torn him away from them…they would burn. He promised by his very name: they would burn until even the ashes of their skeletons were consumed by his fire. Along with all who would dare stand between him and his way home.

He had just about to start blasting holes throughout this swirling 'tunnel of doom' when a distant glow of red drew his attention downwards, the faint glow of what looked like the late evening sun reflecting in his blazing eyes. There, deep into the abyss but approaching with speed, was the literal light at the end of the tunnel, or the bottom of the whirlpool in this case. He didn't care either way: all that mattered was getting out of this swirling mess so he could find a way back home.

The winds whipping around the dragon began to die down, and the red flames dispersed around him; the darkness of the void surrounding seem to outright crumble away like sand through one's fingers, black chunks of non-existence breaking apart and disintegrating into nothingness, revealing a dark red sky filled with paler-red clouds rushing past him. His sense of touch also returned in a flash; the hot winds howled in his ears and whipped against his scales. The sensation of being pulled somewhere had shifted as well: from the arcane feeling like he was being dragged in a violent current to the naturally-occurring pull of gravity.

Finally. Now he was back in command of the situation, as it should be.

With a loud *WHOOSH* of air, his mighty wings snapped open to their full length; his fiery-orange membrane caught the air beneath them, and he felt his descent quickly slowing as he took flight. The clouds stopped rushing past him as he leveled into a comfortable glide. His draconian eyes pierced said clouds like a beam of light pierces the dark, and he saw that he was soaring high above a vast desert landscape of dry, wind-swept red stone that stretched as far as the eye can see, lined with great mountains ranges and dotted with many large, twisted rock formations scattered all across it.

His eyes narrowed at the sight; he didn't recognize this land. He had no idea where he was; that was going to make getting home a bit of a-

The moment the thought of going home entered the dragon's mind, he was suddenly yanked to an abrupt stop.

Seven points on the drake's body: his neck, chest, forearms, wings, and tail, were all seized by previously-nonexistent chains, which rattled with an almost crystalline chime as they went taut. His wings burned with pain as they were forcibly pulled downwards mid-flap, nearly tearing them out of their sockets, while his spine nearly broke at the three points of connection.

He barely had time to register the pain before he was pulled down out of the sky, once again violently plummeting to the earth against his will.

An enraged roar exploded from his jaws as he bellowed his pain and fury to the heavens, struggling violently against whatever had seized him in their grasp. His scales lit up with a brilliant purple-magenta light as he summoned every last drop of Aetherian power within himself, and his entire body literally burst into violet flames from the sheer amount of raw Aether energy he created, pouring every last ounce of strength he could summon into fighting the pull towards the ground; the sky around him was filled with small explosions as the very molecules of air were crushed by his sheer raw power.

But even that wasn't enough. For all his might, all the legendary power that could consume entire worlds in its wrath, it made no difference: the magical chains didn't give in the slightest, pulling the dragon down with no effort.

And once again, he was falling from the heavens into the abyss below.

In more ways than he had yet to realize.

With a final twist of the wrench, his work was done. Sir Pentious wiped his brow with the back of his hand, exhaling a sigh of relief.

"There! With this final adjustment, my ultimate weapon shall soon shake the earth beneath its feet, crushing all who dare stand in my way!" The serpentine sinner proudly boasted to his legions of what could only be described as sentient eggs, who scampered about to complete their own tasks. "No longer will I be 'biding my time' in the shadows, waiting for the moment to strike, for said moment will come at last! Once the Extermination has passed, all of Pentagram City, nay, this entire ring will be mine by the week's end!"

"Swell Job, Boss-man!" One of the 'Egg-Bois' exclaimed with dopey delight.

"You sure put those loose wires in their place!" Another piped up.

"Does this mean you're bringing back the ray gun?"

"Yes, yes, now stop lollygagging, you walking omelets-in-waiting!" Sir Pentious snapped as he tore his oil-stained work tunic off, leaving his pinstriped suit untouched. "The Extermination will be upon us within a sennight, and we must prepare the super secret evil lair for it! Only then, once the wave of death that is Good Friday passes overhead, will the power of my machines be unleashed upon the cowardly weaklings who dare stand between me and my rightful place atop Lucifer's throne!"

"You got it boss!"

"You even said that about the last one!" That comment made Sir Pentious stiffen, his eye twitching dangerously.

"Though that one did only last a day 'cause of that girl…" And that one made him lose it, his angry growl exploding into a roar.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT MENTIONING THOSE BLOCKHEADED SIMPLETONS?!" The cobra sinner screamed in outraged fury, causing his lackeys to tremble together in fear, shells clattering with the emotion. "I COULD WIPE THEM ALL OUT IN AN INSTANT IF I WANTED TO! AN INSTANT, I SAY!"

"Yes, boss…" They responded in united fright, despite it not being the first time they'd heard that claim, either. Sir Pentious seemed pleased by it, nonetheless.

"Good! Glad to see you literal eggheads recognize by brilliance! Now then, what are you standing around for?! GET BACK TO WORK!" He lashed his tail at them, knocking the hats off a few and sending the rest scrambling to get back to their tasks. "We have but a week to prepare for the Extermination, and I'm not running out of Earl Grey three days early this time!"

"Yes sir, Boss! I-I mean, no sir, Boss!"

"Boss gets cranky if he misses is daily Tea Time."

"Cranky enough to shoot you with his raygun!"

The snake could only groan at that one, facepalming in exasperation. Why in all of Hell had he ended up with these yolk-brained idiots?

"Ooh! Look, a Wishing Star!"

He lowered his hand and looked up just in time to see a bunch of his Egg-Bois gathered at the grand windows to his workshop, all bonking and rolling over each other while gibbering excitedly, to get a glimpse of something outside, like children at an exhibit in the zoo.

"What on earth?" He muttered as he slithered forward, pushing his way through the crowd of white ovals to see what the distraction was this time. "What are you numbshells going on about now? Do I have to do everything myse-?!"

He trailed off when he saw it himself: a point of light in the sky, shining like a star in the dark of night, only with a brilliant purple color. For a brief moment, he lost himself in the wave of nostalgia that suddenly rushed over his scaly self; he hadn't seen a sight like that since his days in the living world, when he had still been human. A literal lifetime ago, to the point where the memories were starting to blur with time. The sight of that tiny purple star awakened those bleary memories in a rush of color, sound, and emotion. It was almost enough to make him tear up, remembering the good parts of a life that he had lost long ago.

"I wish I was big and strong like the boss!" The first Egg-Boi spoke up, starting the wave of wishes like a single match to the bonfire…and it spoke leagues of how enraptured Sir Pentious was in his memories that he didn't even mind the constant chatter of his minions.

"I wish for big muscles!"

"I wish to be nominated Egg of the Year ten years in a row!"

"I wish I could dance like a ballerina!"

"I wish for a puppy!"

"I wish for a new hat!"

"I wish the boss would shoot me with his raygun!"

"I wish the star would get even bigger than it already is!"

…wait, what was that last one?

Blinking back into focus, he noticed that the star had, indeed, gotten bigger than it was a few seconds ago. The light had grown from a distant twinkle to a brighter glow, more akin to a distant street lamp…and it was only slowly getting bigger.

Then it was big enough for him to see the distinct flames lashing through the air, and the primal roar of fire growing ever larger and louder.

"OH, BUGGER ME!" Sir Pentious shrieked as realization struck him, he and the smarter of his Egg Bois fleeing from the windows as the roaring ball of purple flames grew ever closer with a blinding light. "THAT'S A METEOR, YOU FOOLS! WE'RE ABOUT TO GO THE WAY OF THE DINOSAURS! EVACUATE! WOMEN AND COBRAS FIRST!"

"But we're all dudes!" Egg Boi #17 shouted over the screams of his fellow eggs as they all began running around in panic, the light getting brighter and the roar louder as the meteor approached, growing with every passing second…

Any wayward creature caught wondering the mountains near the lair of Sir Pentious, as well as any sinner seeking shelter from the Extermination on the outskirts of pseudo-overlord's land, would look up just in time to see a blazing purple comet streak down from the heavens above with a blinding light of flames and a bellowing explosion that sounded almost like a dragon's roar.

It was a sight they would only get to admire (or fear) for a few split seconds, before it crashed into the Hat-shaped evil lair of the wannabe ruler of hell with a thunderous boom.

There were many pros and cons with being an immortal soul in hell.

The pros were that you were literally immortal, unable to truly die as they already had in the living world. Sinners were incredibly durable and forever lasting, able to live forever and take damage that could easily kill even the strongest of the Hellborn species. And even if they were to die, their physical bodies being destroyed, the curse of damnation would only see them eventually 'respawn' within the Pentagram's boundaries; sometimes it took only a few hours, sometimes several days, but no matter how many times they died or how brutally, they would continue existing.

The cons to that were the same: they would continue existing…even if every cell of their being wanted nothing more than to slip into the sweet release of death.

A single, crumpled arm weakly pushed its way out from under the pile of rubble, broken fingers clawing at the air with the strength of a newborn kitten before weakly clutching onto the nearby ground. This was followed by the other arm, in an even worse shape than the other, pushing away the smallest pieces of the rubble that had buried their owner. Then, with a clatter of stones and a wheeze of pure agony, the nearly-flattened remains of Sir Pentious pulled themselves out from under their makeshift grave, one weak pull at a time, looking as if he had gone ten rounds with an enraged elephant.

That had hurt. Even more-so than the time that deer-hooved upstart had destroyed his blimp with his dark voodoo magics.

Coughing up a large amount of dust and blackened blood, he took a moment to weakly look up, only for his eyes to widen in horrified heartache at the sight before him.

His workshop, his favorite creation in all his territory, the place where so many of his favorite machines of destruction had been given life too…completely and utterly destroyed. Everything had been blown to smithereens by the impact of the meteor: the walls were little more than twisted support beams, the windows misted back into sand from the sheer impact, and the roof completely collapsed (hence what had buried him in the first place). The splattered remains of dozens of his Egg Bois were all over the place, coating the broken floor and crumbling walls in a thick layer of dripping yolk; a few had survived, though every one of them had cracks or injuries to some degree.

And his latest invention? His magnum opus? His means to finally triumph over Hell and earn himself the admiration and respect that he deserved?

It had been the point of the meteor's impact. A massive crater now stood in the place where the machine had been seconds ago, the massive dust cloud still filling the now-open room and sky around them; all that remained of it were twisted piles of metal that had been both crushed and melted into piles of unrecognizable scrap.

It had been completely obliterated.

Twenty years. That's how long he had been working on this machine. Twenty long, hard, expensive years of building what would've been his greatest invention ever, even more so than his blimp, from the literal ground up. Twenty years of setbacks and mistakes, most of which were caused by his idiot minions.

All of it erased in a single instant, by something that shouldn't even exist in Hell to begin with.

He hadn't even had time to process the loss of all his work, let alone react in a way fitting to someone who just lost so much at once, when something suddenly shifted in the crater, obscured by the dust cloud that surrounded it. Something clearly alive, if the deep, reptilian groan of pain accompanied by the sound of rattling chains was anything to judge by.

Or had been alive at one point.

All of his emotions instantly aligned into one single point of mind-boiling anger. "How...HOW DARE YOU, YOU PATHETIC, TWICE-DAMNED WRETCH!" He screamed in absolute fury, all of his eyes burning with it as he pulled himself to full height, frill fully open and tail rattling like crazy. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE COST ME?! OF ALL THE PLACES FOR YOU TO FALL INTO THIS FILTHY, SOOT-COVERED RING, YOU JUST HAD TO FALL INTO MY WORKSHOP, DIDN'T YOU?!" The form in the crater paused at his shouting, as if hearing his voice for the first time. "I'M GOING TO MAKE YOUR AFTERLIFE AN ETERNITY THAT WILL HAVE YOU BEGGING FOR EXTERMINATION, YOU WHORE'S CHI-!"

A huge reptilian hand larger than he was burst from the dust-cloud, grabbing onto the edge of the crater, claws as long as his arm carving deep grooves in the floor. Sir Pentious' voice died in his mouth as a second hand joined the first, its grip outright cracking the very foundation of the building, which sent the sinner frantically scrambling away as fast as his bruised body would go, until he backed up against the far wall.

Then, rising from the dust like a great demon from the depths of an even deeper, darker hell, the massive, draconian head of the beast before him slowly lifted high up into the air upon a long, serpentine neck; the head alone was more than three times his size, casting a large shadow over him like a massive rock formation. A deep, rumbling growl of a breath thrummed from between its teeth, as if it was groaning in pain, though even a simple groan was strong enough to shake what remained of the walls, causing more clouds of dust to fall down around them.

Whatever promises of pain and suffering, along with every last drop of his anger, was washed away like a small forest fire in a massive flood...a flood of pure, unadulterated, outright-primeval fear.

And the wanna-be overlord of hell could do nothing but stare up in dumbfounded silence at the monster that stepped fully out of the crater, the sound of rattling chains still accompanying its every movement.

It had six limbs in total: four legs and a pair of wings, the latter protruding from his shoulders. Its hind-legs were saurian in nature, complete with a digitigrade ankle structure and four-toed bird-like feet, while its forelegs were outright primate in build, complete with five-fingered hands with one being an opposable thumb; both fingers and toes were tipped with sharp, curved claws, obviously used for slashing prey. The dinosaur-like tail was incredibly long, twice the length as the rest of him, while his wings were large and bat-like, with four long fingers lined with a fiery-orange skin membrane and a single clawed thumb on each of the wing's 'hands'. Its underbelly was lined with overlapping gold-colored scale-plating from chin to tail-blade, while the entire length of its spine was covered in hundreds of long dorsal spines that looked sharp enough to pierce through metal, the longest lining the back between his wing-shoulders and the thickened end of his tail, turning the latter into a deadly weapon. The neck was long and snake-like, yet thick and strong to support its head, which was more like a prehistoric beast dragon's than a traditional dragon's in appearance: outright saurian in structure, with a therapod-like snout and jaws, forward-facing eyes, bony eyebrow-ridges, a pair of backward-facing horns that curved upward in an S-shape from the back of his head, under which several smaller horns and chin spikes lined the back of his head and jaws. Its eyes glowed with a magical light in the dark, glowing pools of bright gold and magenta-purple with snake-like slit pupils, looking as if a literal fire was burning within them.

He knew what it was. He had heard the tales. Read many books. Seen many picture films with them in it. Heck, there were even creatures down here that had a passing resemblance to the titanthat stood before him. But this…this was no mere fairy-tale beastie, nor was it an over-the-top movie monster destroying fake cities. And if it were just another Hellbeast with sharp teeth, it wouldn't have been a problem.

But he could felt it...literally feel it:

A Presence about this creature, exuding from deep within its body. An 'aura' of sorts that radiated from its very flesh, neither divine nor demonic, but something far more prehistoric flowing out from deep within its form, swallowing all within its vicinity into its overwhelming strength. He could outright feel this 'presence' against his broken body with a very real tangible strength, as if he had been submerged underwater, the sheer pressure of it threatening to crush him into a pulp.

It felt like…like he was standing before the raging, all-consuming wrath of a massive forest fire.

Within the shadow of the immovable, looming might of a towering mountain.

Struggling to stand against the trembling, earth-splitting destruction of a powerful earthquake.

Cowering in horror at the ever-approaching doom of a horizon-wide tsunami.

And futilely screaming against the furious, over-whelming roar of an unstoppable storm.

And thus Sir Pentious became the very first sinner in many, many eons to behold the beast behind the legend: this was no mere 'beastie' of fairy tales or movie production. This was the very might and wrath of nature itself given life and flesh. A living force of nature.

One that had terrorized mankind since the dawn of history itself:

A Dragon.

He gave a timid squeak as the dragon stepped forward from the crater's edge, stumbling mid-step but remaining upright; while no doubt one of, if not the most powerful creature in all of Creation, even it could feel pain. And colliding head-long into his most powerful machine to date would leave even a beast like him reeling from the impact. A harsh snort escaped the dragon's nostrils, twin jets of purple-tinted smoke shooting out of them, as he shook his head back and forth, trying to shake off the dizziness from the impact.

Despite all his fear, it did bring a tiny bit of pride to the aspiring inventor that his ultimate creation, as sadly-short as its life had been, had been able to at least bring an effective blow to such a monster.

Wing a single, painful-looking flap of its mighty wings, the dragon blew the dust-cloud around it away with a flurry of wind; the way it grimaced at the movement suggested injury in its wings, though he couldn't see any from where he stood in its looming shadow. But as the dust dissipated into the air, leaving the ruins of his workshop clear for all to see, he was able to see the very chains that were causing the sounds he had been hearing .

There were seven in total. Seven large, demonic-looking chains forged out of what looked like red, partially-transparent crystal.

They were attached to the dragon's body at several points with cuffs made of the same crystal, carved to resemble the heads of snakes biting down on their captive, their eyes burning with golden-orange flames. They were attached at the neck, both arm-wrists, both wing-wrists, and both ankles, leaving only his tail free. The teeth of the snake-head cuffs seem to be biting into the dragon's flesh, holding him in place in a painful manner, though there was no wounds caused by the teeth, no blood spilled at the points of supposed puncture. The ends were just as peculiar; rather than being tied up to something or fastened on the other end, they seem to 'fade' into the ground, the last links seemingly fading into non-existence just above the floor.

Sir Pentious eyes widened in surprise.

Those chains.

Their appearance. The way they glowed. The way they held onto their captive without actually causing harm yet remained unyielding. Not to mention the fact that such a powerful beast was bound to them in the first place, seemingly unable to break free...

He knew those chains...

"What were you going to call me?"

The high-pitched squeak that escaped the strange cobra-like creature caught Spyro off-guard for a moment; it was outright female in pitch. Under different circumstances, he would've found it quite amusing.

Sadly, he was far from in the mood for anything amusing.

Pain. It wracked his entire body like the claws of an Odogaron, especially in his wings; they felt as it they had been ripped completely out of their sockets. And given what he went through, it was a miracle the joints hadn't been dislocated and the membrane hadn't been torn.

He lifted his arm up to get a better look at what had literally pulled him out of the sky. These 'snake-chains' that clung to his body like the jaws of a gator clung to its prey; despite clearly seeing their fangs passing through his scales and burying into his flesh, he didn't currently feel any pain from them. At least, not on their own; when he had been yanked from the air, it had felt as someone had jammed red-hot hooks into where the chains held him from before pulling down as hard as they could: not to tear the flesh, but to prevent him from going home.

Home...it was the exact moment he thought about going home when these chains first seized him...

And when the thought passed through his mind again, the chains suddenly glowed with a red light before pulling taught once more, causing the dragon to lurch forward as the red-hot fangs began to burn into his flesh. A pained roar escaped his jaws as he stumbled forward, nearly tripping over the panicking snake creature, who scrambled to get out of the way as he nearly fell on top of him. He was able to catch his footing before he fell, though, but was unable to fight the unbelievable strength of the chains as they pulled him to the ground, forcing him to his elbows and knees with a heavy thud. And for all his strength, for all his legendary power of the Aetherian Safi'jiiva, or Purple Dragon as mortals put it, he was unable to do anything against it.

He pulled with all his might; so much so that the very floor beneath him split from the sheer force of his strength, splitting the very foundation of the building with a thunderous crack. Almost as thunderous as his roar of pure, primal rage he bellowed as he poured everything he had into the fight to break free.

And even then, they didn't budge an inch.

A dark growl of a murderous blood-lust escaped his throat, promising a death by hot, painful flames to the one who had cast this spell upon him; to whoever had not only sent him to this realm, but sealed him to it. That's what these were: a seal to this realm, made to insure that he stayed in it and never escaped.

It was with the acceptance of that fact did the chains finally stop glowing and went slack; Spyro exhaled in pure relief, a cloud of smoke billowing from his mouth as he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying not to irritate his torn muscles and bruised bones. He could already feel both starting to mend within his body, the pain slowly fading away as his wounds regenerated from their damage, leaving only one issue left to deal with...and even that was beginning to disappear as well. The chains appeared to 'ripple', as if becoming made of water, as they slowly faded into nothingness. Soon, they were gone completely, along with any sensation of them being there in the first place.

He couldn't see them, hear, or feel them and their weight. It was as if, for all intent and purposes, they had ceased to exist...and yet, he could still tell they were there. Sense them, in a way.

Guess he wouldn't be leaving that easily.

Now then...all that was left now was to figure out exactly what realm he had been sealed in...and he had just the being to aid him with that.

The dragon finally turned his attention to the only other living creatures in the area with him; that peculiar snake-like creature, which resembled a large snake with arms; a cobra, to be more precise, with dark-grey scales and a pale-gold underbelly with vertical black stripes. His wide cobra's hood was yellow with black tips, and sported what appeared to be four large eye-markings, but the emotion in them suggested they weren't just markings; the length of his long serpent's tail also sported such eyes, looking more like markings but all currently staring at him in wide-eyed fear. He was dressed in a charcoal grey jacket that was only a shade lighter than his skin, pinstriped with yellow stripes and with a pale-yellow underlayer that was revealed in the open breast of his jacket, along with another 'eye' in the form of a brooch. And to literally top off the outfit was the large grey top-hat that not only had an eye itself, but also what appeared to be a mouth in the form of a toothy grin; the hat perfectly mirrored the expression of its wearer's face with its own.

In this case, said expression was one of complete and utter, if outright comedic, fear. The one expressing it was curled up against the wall, eyes wide as dinner plates, holding up an equally-spooked Egg between them in a feeble attempt of a shield, while the other remaining egg creatures huddled around him, all trembling in fear.

Spyro had to fight the urge to scoff at the sight; when he had first crashed into this place, all he heard was angry rants and promises of suffering coming from him; how easily the fire of the weak and the arrogant was snuffed when confronted by his own.

Speaking of which, he hadn't missed the beginnings of the last insult.

"I didn't quite make it out; I believe it had something to do with me being a whore's what?" The beast growled in a dangerous tone, his deep, bestial voice thundering through the air, eyes burning a touch brighter with the last words.

Sir Pentious many eyes went comically wide, a shrill 'eep' escaping his mouth, as the monster's already crushing presence multiplied several times over, the very air around them growing hot from its internal flame.

"I-I-I-I d-didn't...I-I-I m-meant y-you..." He stammered pathetically, brow sweating profusely as he racked his brain for an answer that wasn't an insult. "...y-you w-...w-w-whore's companion! Yes, that!" He suddenly exclaimed, raising a shaky finger in the air. "Yes, I-I'm sure such a b-big, mighty, e-exceptionally-exquisite specimen as y-yourself have the ladies swooning with your mere p-presence alone! Yes, all the girls must be loosening their bodices whenever they see you on a regular! Yes indeed!"

Spyro, however, only scowled at this. "So you're implying my sisters are whores, then?" He asked darkly, the glow of fire burning through his teeth.

"Bwah-hah-hah-haaaaaah..." The snake sinner could only wheeze at this point, both of his lives flashing before his eyes, which had comically-large waterfalls of tears running down the sizes of his quivering face.

The great beast shifted back a step, turning its body to face him directly, as if readying itself to reduce him to a pile of ash. However, it did not, but rather just stared at him for a few seconds with a stern glare, until it ultimately snorted in defiance, turning its head to the side.

"I will ignore your insults..." the dragon told him without looking at him, tail swishing from side to side. "...and in exchange, you will tell me exactly what I want to know."

"Wha...yes. Yes! Yes, of course, my glorious, mighty, powerful league!" Sir Pentious stammered before he practically threw himself onto the ground in an over-exaggerated bow, abandoning all pride and decorum in the name of being spared from a truly horrible death. The Egg Bois huddled around him looked at him in confusion, looking between themselves in questioning; he promptly grabbed one and forced it to bow alongside it.

"Bows, you fools!" He hissed under his breath, prompting the rest to scramble (pun fully intended) into their own silly bows of respect, resulting in many rolling onto their faces. "We are but your humble servants, oh great and fiery one! Command us as you will, oh Lord of Flames!"

Spyro rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the lengths this coward was willing to go to save his life...though the dragon in him didn't object to the praise, even if it was obvious brown-nosing out of fear.

"First, your name and race." He commanded, taking full advantage of being in charge. "Who and what are you?"

Sir Pentious lifted his head just a bit, enough to meet his 'new lord's' gaze. "I...*Ahem!*...I am Sir Pentious, your gloriousness; the greatest inventor and mastermind this ring has even seen!" He boasted; it appeared that even when confronting death, he couldn't help but indulge his pride. He then remember his situation and shrank back down to a timid size. "A-And I'm a Sinner."

Spyro cocked his head to the side. "You openly claim to be evil?"

"What? No, I mean that's my species! Or what I guess my species is..." Sir Pentious explained, frowning in confusion himself. "...Do fallen humans have a 'species'? I've seen sinners so many forms over the years..." He was muttering to himself at this point. "...I'm not even sure if it counts. Are we still human biologically, and if so why the changes? And if not, then what are we now...?"

Spyro didn't say anything to that. He didn't even give a sign that he was paying attention. Rather, he made his way around the now-distracted 'sinner' and made his way to the opened wall, staring outwards through the ruins of the workshop to the distant plains of red: more specifically, down the mountain they were currently on towards the distant sight of a black city that stood spread across the center of the plains. A literally black city: all the buildings, from skyscrapers to stores to hotels and everything in between outright looked 'evil', many having structures like horns, claws, and teeth visible from even where he stood. A river that ran red snaked its way around it, like blood running through a field of war, be it colored that way or made of the actual blood of the damned,it could've been either. The sounds of screams, gunfire, explosions, and all manner of chaos erupted across the city, along with the usual noise pollution and daily pandemonium of a common city cranked up to the absolute loudest.

Then he looked upwards: there, spanning across the entire sky, was a massive red pentagram, along with a blackened sun shining balefully through one of its points, contrasted by the distant planet of alluring white light and cloudy rings that floated above it, far out of reach.

"What is this place?" The dragon asked, his eyes reflecting the crimson light of the pentagram he stared at, making it appear as if he had two in his eyes.

"Wait, you seriously don't know?" Sir Pentious asked with realization. The beast turned its head to look at him with a silent stare, his eyes filled with genuine confusion; the snake nervously strummed his fingers together under that expecting gaze, beads of sweat running down his scaly brow.

Evidently, he had to break the news to one of the most powerful creatures he had ever seen.

"W-Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news...really, really hate to be the one to have to tell you this..." He gulped audibly, mentally bracing himself for the rush of burning hot flame. "...you're in, well...Hell."

Spyro pausing, blinking both sets of eyelids. "Come again?" He asked, sounding more skeptical than anything else.

"You know: Hell?" Sir Pentious told him again. "Hades? Tartarus? The Lake of Eternal Fire? The place where all bad people go when they die? That's what this place is. Hell."

There was a moment of silence.

Then the dragon's eyes lit up with their own fiery glow, a scowl of displeasure crossing his features.

"No, it's not."

Sir Pentious promised himself then and there: if he were to survive this, he'd straight up kiss that Cherri Bomb girl straight on the mouth.

"I-I-I can underst-t-tand how you must f-f-feel." He stammered, twiddling his thumbs under the ever-growing heat of the monster's gaze. "W-We all had a hard time coming to terms with our d-damnation. B-B-But it's not as bad as you might think! Especially for one as powerful as yourself; you're bound to make quite the name down he-"

"That is precisely why this can't be Hell." Spyro snapped, making the snake flinch with a whimper. He turned his gaze back to the literal city of the damned, and all its dark and carnal indulgences...indulgences that shouldn't be here. "The fact any of you can have even the slightest bit of comfort or power here proves that this is not the Realm of Damnation. I have seen the Valley of Death with my own eyes. Heard the screams of the Damned. And watched as they spent a thousand years of suffering in mere seconds...this? This is not Hell..."

His gaze turned back up to the pentagram in the sky, which radiated with undoubtedly demonic energies, despite his own words.

"...or, at least...not the one I'm familiar with..." He murmured, not taking his eyes off the sky.

"...I'm n-not entirely sure what to make of that..." Sir Pentious admitted weakly, rubbing the back of his frilled head with his hand. "B-But as I was saying, it isn't so terrible once you grow accustomed. Especially for one with power like your own...though I'm not sure if the same rules apply to the living."

Spyro narrowed his eyes at the snake. "What does still being alive have to do with this realm's ranking of power?"

"Err, w-what I meant is: I've never seen a still-living soul, like yourself, be sent down here. I don't think there's ever been such a thing before...especially for a soul that's clearly not human." Sir Pentious explained, his own growing curiosity overcoming his terror as he looked at the points of the dragon's body where he knew the demonic chains were attached. "Those chains of yours...if I didn't know any better, I'd say they were the same those pompus Ares Goetias used whe-"

The dragon spun around at that knowledge, lowering his head to glare directly into his newfound 'servant's' eyes. "You know what these chains are?! How do you break them?"

"I-I-I don't know!" The sinner objected, throwing his hands up in surrender. "I-I've just beheld the Ares Goetia using a spell that involved chains that glowed like yours do once! They're a royal family of higher demons, with a palace in Pentagram City!" He pointed past the dragon to the distant city. "If anyone in this pit of eternal torment might know anything about your predicament, they would!"

"Then it appears I have a royal family to visit." Spyro growled as he turned back towards the wall.

With the agility of a giant cat, the purple dragon leapt up towards the top the broken structure, sending a tremor through the earth as he kicked off of it. As he leapt, he summoned the power within his body and was completely engulfed in a roaring flurry of purple-and-orange flames; said flames appeared to coil their tongues around his reptilian form, as if he was being wrapped up tightly in large blankets, as if to squeeze him tight...which they appeared to do, his form growing ever smaller as it leapt up and over the very wall, completely clearing the hole his entrance had made, all the while his sheer, overwhelming aura of his draconian presence began to drain from the very world around them.

By the time he landed on the ground outside, he had transformed completely: that giant beast that was larger than all but the largest of dinosaurs was now no bigger than a wolf, landing gracefully on his paws with barely a thud. The flames around him burst into a flurry and dissipated into the wind, revealing his form changed significantly: it was as if he had turned into a smaller, smoother, and less-intimidating version of his previous form, with larger eyes, smoother scales, an outright-pleasant face, a golden tailblade at the end of his tail, and so forth; he looked outright like a small cartoony version of his true self. What was also gone was the sheer presence of draconian power that had previous engulfed the entire area, all of it subdued and hidden away this new tiny form, leaving no one the wiser.

Sir Pentious and his Egg Bois stared in surprise, hardly able to believes their own eyes: if they didn't know any better, they could easily assume this creature was just another sinner that he dropped into Hell, who just happened to have the form of a purple dragon.

Spyro shook himself like a dog, shaking off the last bits of fire that clung to his scales, before turning his head to look back at the stunned sinner and his speechless minions.

"You have my thanks, for what little that might be worth." He told his newfound allies. "If I ever have the chance in the future, I will repay the favor you have done for me."

Sir Pentious blinked in surprise at the sudden change in the great dragon's voice, which threw him off guard for a moment. It was no longer the draconian growl of power that thrummed through the air...in fact, it sounded outright human now. Like a young man who had just entered the prime of his youth; a LOT younger than original form and many, many scars suggested he would be.

What in the Seven Rings was this creature?

"S-Splendid." Was all the cobra could bring himself to say. To which Spyro simply nodded before spreading his wings and taking to the skies, heading straight for Pentagram City, leaving the snake to stare in complete and utter confusion at what just happened.

"Well, he was cool!" One of the Egg Bois finally spoke up.

"I think he was nice!"

"I like him!"

One raised his hand. "Uh, boss? Shouldn't we have warned him about the Extermination that's coming soon?"

Sir Pentious shook himself out of his stupor. "I-I don't think that will be necessary." He muttered aloud, still staring after the purple beast until he had completely disappeared into the distance. Then, and only then, did he finally allow himself to look away. "Prepare the medical ward for everyone that's still alive, and then we'll shall resume our preparations for Holy Week...and somebody prepare me an absinthe."

"...a glass or a bottle?" The last of the Egg Bois asked.

"Yes."