The great presence born from his spirit came like a Black Scourge upon the realm, withering will of mortal man to dust. It rallied against the heavens and the hells, seeking neither destruction nor creation but despair and madness.
Ignus trembled, reflecting on a memory, a strange manner of creatures that bore no true form. "An Outer God." A dreadful pang of unease slithered up his spine, coiling around the flesh like death's icy grip. He gulped with a restlessness on him that would simply not die.
And he thought, 'I am Ignus, Lord of the Frenzied Flame, Dragonborn of Golden Empyrean. King Regent, to his majesty Lord Bahamut's reign, I shall not fear a boy." Somehow, he grew more confident standing boldly before Altair.
