In an act of desperation, Kenan grazed his hands over his eyes. He came to the understanding that there was a layer of caked dust and other contaminants covering his optics and impeding sight. The wyverns' movement and recovery was coming at a greater pace than his. Mentally he threw thoughts of sight recovery to the side, he hadn’t the time to indulge them.

A wind came, urging and pushing. Noctis was powerless to disagree. At first he attempted to stand, but it quickly came to the understanding of his disoriented mind that the venture wouldn’t bear fruit. Before he followed the wisps of air, he pushed mana into his sword, and he quickly took it out of its sheath of draconic flesh. He started to roll on his side.

A large shift of the wyvern made Kenan fall off and land on his back. Under normal circumstances, the quick and harsh landing wouldn’t have much effect, but his body was broken. Breath escaped him in a quick gasp. Lack of qi and mana strain both pushed him into slipping into senseless, insentient thought formations.

A faceless man said something to him. In a memory that was unable to be pulled upon. “Remember. Your soul is the strongest part about you.”

He started to claw his way one direction, but the wind shifted him another. Kenan kept changing routes until he felt the whispers gliding against his back. Something in his mind tried to force a thought, like something was familiar, but not quite recognizable. At least, in the quasi-conscience state that he was in. It was like a scentless smell, the imaginary hearing of a name, the feel of an unreal bug on the skin.

More movement from the beast, the type of shaking off disorientation. Then it suddenly stood stock still as the whistle of the air shifted. Forming into a lullaby of a sweet song. An invisible tug of war took place. The formless suggestion of one force, versus the domination of another.

The realization came harder than any of the impacts Kenan had taken. He clenched his teeth and fists. An anger he didn’t quite understand sprang in his mind.

He started to crawl faster. Not by much, but a clear quantifiable amount. Each inch of progression was met with ten-times the amount of agony. Yet, he fought through it. It was only pain. The Gods knew. Kenan Noctis, Son of Tyris, born of sorrow and flame. Was not afraid of pain.

Suddenly the wind sharpened to a squeal and the wyvern roared. Vibration signaled the beast not only won, but was headed towards Kenan. In turn, Noctis flipped to his back side, and with his hand, tried to quickly rip at the filth in his eyes.

In moments he felt a hot, warm breath on his body. The smell of rot captured the entirety of his senses. He opened his eyes, he could see, but it was hazed. The creature’s maw was hovering over his face. It shook, looked up in the sky, and roared. Just as its jaw opened and readied itself for a meal, an object, a rock, hit it on its eye.

The wyvern hissed and turned its attention. So did Kenan. Not ten yards away was a person with another rock in hand. A sling instrument behind his back. Jorun. He cocked back his arm and threw his last rock. Hitting the wyvern in the nose, it bounced off harmlessly. “Come here big, overgrown, gecko!” The bard said. In return, the beast simply hissed, twisted its body and whipped its tail. Jorun went flying back, crashing into rubble.

Thought went so fast that it seemed time slowed. Three bubbles of concept formed and popped at a rapid pace. The first. What was soul? The answer was quickly answered with the second. His will. When he had nothing left, no mana, qi, nothing. It's what he pulled on. And his will was further strengthened by the last concept. Rage.

An anger, an unimaginable festering emotion pulsed inside of Kenan. Originating from the mote of Nonesthic. Combined with it, was an instinct that no human owned, an animalistic need and drive. “Jorun!” Noctis yelled. The wyvern turned back at its original prey, and twisted its head in confusion. “He is…” Kenan said softly.

Soulfire erupted from his eyes, clearing the amalgamation of dust and blood. Heat sprouted from his mouth and claws. The teal fire licked at various points into his body. A strength found in the deepest parts of soul reared its ugly head. His black blade became a Soulfire conduit as he slashed at the wyverns jaw. Cutting scale, bone and vine. Its lower jaw becomes completely detached with its tongue flopping out.

Noctis stood up, oblivious to his extreme pain and discomfort. Talons came for him, he flipped backwards. Pointed his sword at the creature. “MIIIINE!” Kenan yelled. Vatr formed suddenly as he ran forward, jumping over a tail. Ducking under an awkward, draconic head-but. He shifted through and around the creature's body at an incredibly high pace. All the while counting. One, two.

He slashed at the wyverns body, but purposefully missed. Three. Kenan then jumped on the beast, making it screech. At seemingly random points, he slashed in the air. The count came to six. Another two were placed at the tail and one at the head. A total of nine. All shimmering lines of Afterburns burning brightly and carried on by a primordial power.

Once again standing in front of the quasi-dragon. Kenan released Afterburn but forced his contraction to stay. The wyvern was engulfed in a massive column of Soulfire. Then it started to spin and churn while the beast thrashed about inside of it. Noctis joined the cyclone of destruction.

While he moved around, the instinct overcame him. In an endless wave of this odd, chaotic, animal ferociousness was a single point of understanding. Things were simple and they never became anything else. They were, how they were. Nothing more, nothing less. With this knowledge, Kenan began to dodge and weave with an inhuman grace. As if he was an animal. Each missed attack or close call, only furthering Kenan’s speed. As he moved, the Soulfire surrounding them roared with the same intensity as himself. Moving in the same direction.

Noctis ran. The fire now coaxed into following him fluidly and keeping pace. Right behind the tip of his sword. Something told him it was enough, he jumped in the air. Narrowly missing a poor fang attack. The Soulfire followed, traveling to the tip of his sword. At the apex of his arc, he looked down at the Wyvern. Which was confused with the sudden extraction of fire. “Salpirkos.” Kenan yelled.

He traveled down quickly, and landed in a three point stance. Then he grabbed the hilt of his blade with his left hand and the pommel with his right. Hunched over the sword, legs flexed and ready to go. Kenan snapped his head, flipping back many loose strands of hair, and stared at the foe ahead of him. “Dance of the fire wolf!”

As he yelled those words, out from his mouth came a phantom maw of a wolf. Outlined in Soulfire, it swiveled and latched onto the Wyverns neck. The beast screeched. Kenan followed behind the flying set of jaws. The flame around him moved even faster than himself, tunneling towards the point of his blade. Then he made contact, driving his sword deep into the wyvern's neck. Black blood began to flow out of the wound, before it dispersed and evaporated under the roaring heat. The Soulfire Kenan commanded began to invade. Devouring its flesh and bone, turning them into nothing more than ash.

Noctis took out his blade once the entirety of the fire had been siphoned into the beast. In a smooth motion, he flecked off all the gunk from his sword , and sheathed it. The wyvern convulsed, fighting the end, the fire. First, the vines of the beast shriveled and turned to dust. Because the components that held the undead creature together became non-existent. Its body began to deform and deteriorate. Its wings fell off, followed quickly by a leg. Multiple points became depressed and sunken. The carcass of the beast was slowly eaten by the all-consuming fire and was turned into nothing.