The Infernian puffed out another sigh – it seemed that was all he did when the Draconian was involved, even more so now that he was transported to the inside of the Crystal.

Again.

Being teleported to the Crystal meant yet another monologue from Bahamut; usually referring to his pride, or how his faith in humans was far too confident compared to the other Astrals.

Even so, this time felt distinct from all the other confrontations Ifrit had endured. He couldn't quite place why, but there was something far more portentous about this meeting – the way Bahamut looked at him was often with disdain and a judiciousness that matched no other. This instance, however, the Pyreburner swore he saw a hint of desolation in those barely visible eyes.

What are you secreting, Bladekeeper?

"It is in this place," Bahamut began, "where the Pyreburner will ultimately ascertain his fortuity. His unfaltering faith in mortals is praiseworthy, although it is to be in vain." As he spoke, he looked down on the Infernian, who kept his chin raised – the Draconian was much larger in stature and size than he, yet he held no fear towards the God of War.

"Absurdity," Ifrit snarled. "I am a God. The mortals pray to us, Bladekeeper."

"The prophecy is ineludible, Pyreburner," he went on, "upon being granted the gift of flame, their veneration will be evanescent. The ungrateful mortals will incur the wrath of the Pyreburner, who will seek to raze the very civilization he once helped build. The Darkness will endeavor in pervading itself all over our Star, and the Pyreburner will someday encourage the spread of the Starscourge."

It was madness. Ifrit could feel his anger boiling under his skin at Bahamut's words – it was paradoxical, as he truly applauded the will the humans held within themselves.

"Enough!" The Infernian roared, flames encircling his being to deter Bahamut from speaking. "They will adulate me, eternally! Can you not cease your disenchanted beliefs? I am to aid them, not relish in bloodshed."

"A man will seek the Pyreburner, to draw him away from the Light."

Hearing this sent Ifrit into a rage. Drawing his sword, he lunged at the Bladekeeper who easily dodged him with a summon of his blades.

"You ween yourself as the almighty," the Infernian lashed out with burning diction, "yet you care little for humanity in itself."

"The Usurper will call the tune of the Pyreburner's psyche, and there is naught that can be done to circumvent the prophecy."

"INSOLENCE!" the smaller god roared.

Before Bahamut could protest, the harried God dissolved away, back to the mortal world. The Draconian typically carried an air of indifference – however, for the first time in what felt like eons, he discovered he felt a sliver of a seemingly faint emotion when it came to Ifrit.

Anguish.