Meanwhile hidden behind the stairway, Victor saw an opportunity, having spent this whole time preparing. He couldn’t help glancing between Jorfr and Von Wickten, drawing on both of them to rile himself up whilst simultaneously pulling in as much Ignis as he could contain from the environment. As he’d found out, the entire cathedral was soaked in Ignis, as if it were a gigantic Ignis-centric leyline obelisk. Not only was its belltower a Suncage Grid receiver pylon, the site was built upon a gigantic leyline well - and no wonder, it was only appropriate that such a place would be required to bury the Sun God. Or, perhaps, it had been the Sun God’s internment here alongside the cathedral that had turned this place into such an immense wellspring of power.

He found it poetic in a way; Von Wickten would be the first target of this beast, which Victor had wrought from the rage that Von Wickten’s own deeds had helped to awaken… If only he managed to finish casting before he inevitably lost consciousness. Burning ache wracked his entire body as he pushed further and further, funneling a continuous, monochromatic stream of flame through his staff’s eye as its outer rings spun wildly about the main ring’s axis. It seeped into the devilbone construct without end or apparent effect, but he could feel the servitor taking hold.

“Just… Just a bit further…” he thought, pushing as hard as he conceivably could, running through arcane equations in his head to keep himself centered. Not only did he lean against his staff, its blade being buried in the ground, but also against the cathedral’s blackstone. Initially, he’d just placed his hand against it to facilitate direct contact, but he was just completely slumped against it at this point.

Vic felt the wrenching ache in his skull slowly become a persistent, numb pounding as blood trickled out of his nose. His sight blurred and became red when his eyes followed suit, bloody tears streaming down to join his nosebleed and run down his chest, soaking the Antediluvian Gem.

The redhead suddenly felt his mind clear, a bluish undertone creeping into the bottom of his vision.

Thoughts that weren’t his own crept in. Thoughts of turning Von Wickten into an undying flesh-thing affixed to these walls, the flow of Solar Ignis routed through its body so that it would burn for all eternity, unable to die or scream in pain. He felt anger at himself for being so foolish as to not know his own ability, for not thinking to at least use basic blood magic to amplify the spell if he was going to hurt himself casting it anyway. There was… Pride, too. For creating a servitor so quickly and for selecting such ideal mental material for the purpose, for not going overboard on its physical form’s design.

All of these thoughts flowed through his mind, and Victor distinctly felt them to be foreign.

The last of these foreign thoughts was the intent of aid, and though Victor marshaled his will to refuse what he thought to be an attempt by Koschei to exploit a moment of weakness, no mental onslaught was mounted.

“You would be useless to me if I let you cripple yourself, boy,” an irritated, crow-like voice rang out inside his skull.

The Antediluvian Gem floated up from his chest, its blue glow shining through the seal without breaking it. Vic’s stream of flame multiplied into a deluge, barely able to pass through the staff’s eye. He added as much Ossum as he could without feeling his own bones grow weak, pulling from the plates on his chest and back, hoping it would impart the properties of Bonefire upon his servitor.

The voice returned, and for a moment, it felt as though its source was standing right behind him, pointing over his shoulder: “Now boy, now! Before the spark fades out!”

“Deathless eyes and steel knife claws; arise, blazing beast of desire!” he incanted, the bone construct shuddering in place. He felt a hard-to-define something pass from himself and onto the devilbone puppet, bonefire suddenly erupting from every-which gap of its many-segmented structure. In design, it had the body plan of a canine predator, but exoskeletal rather than endoskeletal, with a segmented exterior and a hollow interior to contain the animating flame.

And now, it had a matching spiritual construct wrought from a lifetime’s suppressed rage and rancor to stir it into action.

“Fulfill my command and obey no other law!” he continued, feeling his own legs grow weak as he fought even for the breath to say the incantation. Zef’s barrage had ended as she rushed to reload, Von Wickten noticing the lull and swiftly unwinding his tail with the obvious intent to set upon Zelsys before she could complete her transformation.

Vic gritted his teeth and, in spite of the pain and spurts of blood from his nostrils, drew upon the leylines once more for Terra to steady himself with. A ragged breath was followed by a final incantation howled in two voices.

“Servitors and Egregores, come forth! MIDNIGHT WOLF, THE HELLHOUND FURY!”

What had once been a rather nice-looking bone marionette sprung to life as a bristling, tense creature of twitching rage, bonefire blazing about its head in the form of a mane and bursting out its gaping maw. Raising his hand, Vic wheezed a barely-audible command: “...Help her.”

The words meant little; they were just a vocal trigger for conveying his intentions to the servitor. An affirmative growl issued from the construct; in a burst of bonefire it was gone, leaving four craters with spiral-shaped patterns blasted into them.

METEORIC SERVITOR

EMBODIMENT OF RIGHTEOUS WRATH

MIDNIGHT WOLF, THE HELLHOUND FURY -ANTEDILUVIAN MAGNIFICATION-

What little strength he still had left him, and the redheaded sorcerer crumpled to the ground, desperately holding onto consciousness, his mind focused on marshaling a mental defense for an attack which he expected, but which never came. He had just about enough strength left to drag himself a short distance forward to see his creation carry out its task.