Free Inferno (Play to Live: Book # 4) by D. Rus

sir.
    Scowling, I repeated slowly, "I am the First Priest. I am the first authority here after the Fallen One."
    "You what?" Aulë bellowed, losing all control. With a heavy arc of his practiced hand, the massive hammer landed on my head.
    Oops.
    Clank! A cascade of colorful sparks highlighted the scene as the tank barrel in Snowie's hands stopped the hammer's fall midway. Aulë growled like a wounded beast. Raising his hefty weapon, he began pounding the troll into the ground. Snowie didn't have time to counter his blows. All he could do was parry them with his mithril barrel reinforced by the joint efforts of Macaria and the Fallen One.
    The Fallen One, where are you! It looked like the show had taken the worst possible turn. Pointless trying to spare the freaked-out deity's feelings. Time to engage our main caliber.
    The Fallen One must have watched the whole scene through some astral peephole as he appeared straight away without any of those stupid visual effects like portal popping and such. His powerful frame exuded strength. Macaria followed him confidently, looking healthy and strong from all the torrents of energy exuded by the hundreds of thousands of her followers who sacrificed themselves every second. I even thought I'd noticed a spider lurking in a dark corner, smirking as it watched this divine lineup.
    "Enough!" the powerful voice bounced across the Temple, its destroying force seeking and taking out the weakest.
    Dozens of hearts missed a beat and stopped. Here and there, distorted faces gasped, struggling for air, glazed-over stares pointing at brain paralysis. Macaria behind her boss' back only shook her head, her waggling fingers sending waves of healing green across the hall.
    Seeing a new and more powerful opponent from the hated camp, Aulë who'd already hammered the troll knee deep into the marble floor left him alone and went for the Fallen One. Snowie pulled his legs free from the stone debris and stumbled after him, frowning, eager to wreak his revenge.
    In an adrenaline rush, Aulë darted forward, accelerating, his shape blurring. The air whooshed its protest, sliced by the light-blue tracer of the hammer rising and falling.
    Frozen like a statue, the Fallen One threw his hand up to meet the blow. Bang! In a flash, diamond shrapnel burst every which way, mopping up the nearest ranks of the stunned observers. Temperature, pressure and the magic tension of the impact had been such that they even changed atomic structures, turning gas into prickly crystals.
    The Fallen One's fingers dug into the hammer, forever deforming the mithril with the imprint of his hand. He wrought the weapon easily out of Aulë's hands and flung it aside.
    Bang! With a short swing of the Fallen One's arm, a perfect right hook to Aulë's jaw sent the shaggy god flying backwards to the Altar. He landed ignominiously on his butt and shook his head like a dog, trying to focus.
    The Fallen One approached unhurriedly. He grabbed Aulë's throat and lifted him in the air with his outstretched arm like a naughty kitten. "Enough, Vala Aulë. The time of the Last Battle hasn't yet come."
    Croaking, the mountain god clutched the Fallen One's hand trying to unclench his adamant grip. "I hate you..."
    The Fallen One shook his head in disapproval. "Don't be stupid. This is a different world with its own set of laws. The knowledge of your previous incarnations is pointless here — deceitful even. Once you learn a bit more about the deeds of the so-called Gods of Light and compare them to those of the other side — you'll know what I mean. Just take a look at my First Priest and his life path! I know you can!"
    Aulë glared at him. "Never! Never have I been a servant of the Dark! Fourteen incarnations in all sorts of realms, forty thousand years of my fighting evil! It's not going to happen now!"
    "You idiot! What evil are you talking about? Look around you! Actually, you think you can tell me how many of those fourteen avatars are still