"Come to me, my son," Tchernobog's deep, bellowing voice reverberated from within the desecrated relic of a once sacred temple that sat perched atop a desolate mountain peak. Caleb stood at the chipped granite stairway, peering up towards the defiled cathedral with his beloved double-barreled shotgun cradled in his arms like a newborn child as hellish red storm clouds accumulated overhead; smothering every last beam of moonlight behind a blanket of darkness. As the tips of his long, black trenchcoat whipped around his wirily frame like a cloak in the howling wind, he thought back to all he'd fought through to reach where he was standing now. Hordes of the undead, an ocean of dynamite-chucking nutjobs, even ghoulish specters that were more than eager to harvest his soul and came charging right at him screaming bloody murder. He'd been through a lot. He'd killed a lot. It'd been a grand old time, but it was time for this to end. He was going to mount Tchernobog's rotten head on a plague and hang it over his fireplace. He tipped the wide brim of his hat and began his ascent up the stairs to put the dark god out of commission once and for all. "Let us embrace at last!"

As Caleb entered the temple, he saw that the way forward came to a stop at a colossal stone wall decorated by a large, twisted goat's skull before splitting off in both directions. He looked left, then right, and could see the paths split once more both going forward and backwards. Caleb just smiled a toothy grin, stuffed his shotgun back into the empty void within his coat, and pulled out two bundles of bright red dynamite. That supposedly all-powerful and all-knowing god really thought he was going to just make a beeline rush him and not even look both ways before crossing the temple. But Caleb was better than that. He knew how this was going to work; done it countless times. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal lighter; flicking it twice to produce a flame and bringing it to the two wicks of the explosives in his hand. Once the fuses had ignited and were burning down towards the TNT, Caleb threw a bundle at each of the far-facing walls as hard as he could; watching with glee as they bounced off the rock-solid surfaces and landed just out of sight in their respective alcoves. Now it was time to wait for the payoff.

Three.
Two.
One.

The walls of the temple started to violently shake and tremble as the dynamite went off in a massive double fireball, the heat from which Caleb could feel washing against his pale, withered skin like a tidal wave despite being several dozen feet away. But once the dust settled, he fished out his shotgun yet again; it was time to see what the damage was. He took the eastern pathway first, poking the gun's barrels around the corner first and firing off two shots into the chamber before peeking around the corner to see for himself what remained. The long and short answer was not much. Just a thick coat of grey-and-green slop and the smoldering, blackened remains of a very large but very dead spider.

"Oooooh, nasty!" Caleb muttered to himself, puckering his chapped lips as he put on an exaggerated fake British accent for the line. He knew there wasn't going to be anyone around to hear him say things like that, but he didn't care too much. It was just a way to keep himself occupied when it got too quiet for his liking. He loaded two fresh shells into the shotgun and turned around to go and check out the other niche to see what messy surprises waited for him in there, but hos blood ran cold when he peered into the darkness of the hallway heading further into the temple and saw six beady glowing eyes looking right back at him. And whatever those eyes belonged to...was growling.

"Bad dog," Caleb whispered, pointing the cold steel barrels of his weapon forward. Without missing a beat, he pulled both triggers on his shotgun and unloaded the full payload into the darkness. The blinding white light of the muzzle flash was enough to unveil the monster lurking within the black, and it was just as he'd feared: A hulking two-headed canine that was as tall as he was and three times as wide. Its rotten, bloodied fangs were bared in a grimace of malice that seemed to stretch its leathery brown skin over its facial bones like ill-fitting latex. He had fought this...thing before; blown it sky high with a mouth full of explosives. And yet, here it was now, not ten feet away from him and looking more vile than it ever had while alive. Not only did the skin covering its body look rigid and stiff, but its once fiery-red eyes were now a milky blueish-white and completely unfocused. But it wasn't the grisly visage of the undead Cerberus that had Caleb on edge; it was the smell. There was this unholy stench like someone had just smashed open a basket full of rotten eggs in the alcove, and it only got worse when the undead monster unhinged its right jaw and a geyser of burning hot air spewed from within. Thinking fast, Caleb covered his face with his free arm and scrambled back down the western hall; lunging down to the cold cobblestone floor and hitting the ground with his gut as a pillar of fire seared just over his head and singed the tip of his hat.

Caleb hurriedly got back to his feet and broke into a sprint to escape his feral pursuer, stuffing his shotgun back into his coat so he could put more space between himself and the double-headed demon dog. Shells weren't going to stop that thing, he needed time to fish out a weapon with some heavier firepower to put down the demented mutt once and for all. He figured that if he could make it to the other side of the temple and take refuge in its cubbyhole, that'd give him the few seconds of breathing room he needed to whip out the Tesla cannon, charge it up, and fry Cerberus so hard he could serve him up in a barbeque hot and fresh.

However, his heart sank when he looked down the hallway he was running towards and saw the vague outline of a figure slowly approaching his direction. Was it Cerberus? Had it circled back around and come out the opposite end to ambush him from the front? Caleb peeked back over his shoulder to check and nope it was still hot on his heels, its twin tongues hanging limply from its maws like a pair of matching red flags as it chased him down the hall. If he stopped now, it was going to rip him to shreds. But facing forward again, he realized the monster he was about to run face-first into wasn't exactly a safer option.

It was a large, winged demon that looked like one of those gargoyles he'd seen perched atop a number of old castles and manor roofs had broken free from its pedestal and had come down to harass him; its stone-grey skin and grotesque, grinning expression only reinforcing the image. It was yet another monster Caleb had blasted back to kingdom come, named Cheogh, that had returned from the dead to try and kill him once again. And like last time, that wasn't going to happen. He didn't care if he was caught in between a rock and a hard place, he was still going to come out on top like every other time he'd been on the ropes.

Unfortunately, his bravado didn't change the simple fact that he was in a real Catch-22 of a situation. If he stayed inside the temple, Cheogh would've been easier to pin down because of the small space that they were stuck in, but these same narrow halls made Cerberus' flame breath nearly impossible to dodge. It only worked out last time because he'd gotten lucky. But if he made a mad dash for the exit and headed back outside, Cerberus would have been less of a threat but being out of an enclosed space would have given that godforsaken gargoyle free reign to fly in the air and bombard Caleb with either hard-hitting punches and bites or blue energy balls that Cheogh could spit out with the speed of a Thompson.

And as if on cue, Caleb could see that the airborne demon's piercing white eyes were beginning to illuminate in the shadows of the defiled church. It was about to let all Hell break loose, and the only way he could possibly go to avoid the assault was blocked by Cerberus, who hadn't shown any signs of stopping. Suddenly, it clicked in Caleb's mind. He knew just what to do. He jammed his hand into his coat and dug his boot into the stone floor, turning on his heel to face Cerberus head on as he pulled his hand from the void where he kept all his precious tools tucked away with his tried-and-true problem solver clenched tight in his palm as he held it triumphantly over his head: A rusty brown pitchfork, each of its four prongs caked in dried blood.

"It's time someone put you to sleep for good," Caleb roared as he charged the wild beast, his pitchfork primed and ready at his side. No fear, no dread. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins like a fire in his blood as he and Cerberus got closer. That godawful smell of sulfur was beyond overwhelming now; if he wasn't so focused on the task of killing that cursed dog he probably would've vomited. He nimbly ducked underneath Cerberus' twin biting jaws and thrust the pitchfork's prongs upwards into the feral beast's thick, round throat at the point right before the two heads would have began to diverge and separate. But Caleb didn't settle for stabbing the beast, absolutely not. Even as he felt the large dog trashing and squirming to get free, he continued to shove the pitchfork deeper into its flesh, using his own upper body strength to force the dog back onto its hind legs. With its two heads high in the air, it was now in the direct line of fire of Cheogh's energy blasts. Caleb didn't even have time to move out of the way before Cheogh's energy spheres whizzed over his head and collided with Cerberus head-on and chunks of hot, melting flesh and muscle started raining down from above; splattering his coat and hat with gooey, slimy chunks of meat. Caleb stood up, ripped his pitchfork from the maimed carcass of his fallen enemy, and turned back towards the winged demon. He doubted the creature felt any remorse for accidentally turning its ally into sticky mulch, these monsters weren't exactly pioneers of empathy or compassion.

"Two down, one to go, and I doubt you'll fare much better," He mused, a smirk curling up his lips as he swapped out weapons once again. This time, he traded in his pitchfork for a couple more bundles of dynamite. Cheogh may have survived the first blast, but if the numerous chips and cracks in the gargoyle's stone skin were any indication he wasn't going to survive the second or third. Better throw both, just to be sure. Caleb started to reached into his pocket to fish out his lighter again, but dropped it back in when he saw Cheogh's eyes were already starting to glow again. It was going in for the kill, just as Caleb was, and he didn't have time to prepare the dynamite; it'd take too long. Nah, he had a better idea.

Just as the twin sapphire blue spheres of energy started to materialize into existence, Caleb threw the dynamite over his shoulder and started running. He wasn't afraid of Cheogh's attack hitting him, no, it was the-

Before he could even finish the thought, Caleb's ears were assailed by the cacophonous sound of an explosion, and a second later he was launched forward straight into the eastern wall, colliding into the solid stonework with a loud scream of pain. His ears were ringing, the tail of his coat was smoking from the heat, and the gargoyle had been demolished and reduced to rubble. As had a large chunk of the hallway it had been occupying, but thankfully the rest of the temple was still standing for the most part. He dragged himself over to one of the columns that lined the walls and used that as a support to pull himself up to his feet, his legs still weak and shaky from being thrown ten feet across the room. As he stood there for a couple minutes trying to regain his balance, Caleb started to think about what just happened.

"Why didn't that kill me?" He mulled over the question while he took a breather. It just didn't make sense. Sure, he'd been shot at and attacked countless times up to that point, even had a few close calls with death from time to time, but he figured his continued survivability was a mix of luck and skill. Those didn't factor into him being hurled into a granite wall at 30 miles per hour and managing to brush it off with nothing more than a few nasty bruises. He thought back to what Tchernabog had told him when he'd first arrived at this damned temple, his answer for betraying not only Caleb but Ophelia, Gabriel, and every other high ranking member of his foul cult.

"Because I knew you would return. Can you not see? Every life you have taken has made you stronger, and you have returned to me with a greater sacrifice than I ever could have wished. With the power you bring, I shall throw open the door between worlds, and inherit the earth." The words from his former god rang as clear as a bell in Caleb's mind. Maybe there was truth to what he told him, and the consumption of so many souls had given Caleb supernatural durability. He started to laugh. A sharp, bellowing howl that echoed and reverberated through the empty building over and over again.

"Ooooh, turning Tchernobog into mince meat is going to feel so, so good," Caleb growled, his features hardening as he finally drew out the weapon he was going to eviscerate that walking goat skeleton with: The Tesla cannon, a bulky cluster of what might as well been steel piping welded together and fitted with a firing trigger. And yet, the balls of electric fury that launched from the barrels of that metal husk would always end in unbelievable amounts of gibbitude, turning not only where the victim stood but anywhere in a 50 ft. radius into a splatter zone for their chunky remains. Caleb, battered and bruised from the thrashing he just went through, finally advanced deeper into the temple with a big, toothy grin on his face.

Caleb weaved around the corner and found himself standing in the doorway of a small, square room. Limestone and marble pillars lined the walls, and it was almost completely barren of decoration save for a single furnishing. Facing him, on the far end of the room, was a dusty old throne made of leather and mahogany wood. It seemed well-worn, probably decades old at this point and almost certainly an offering from one of Tchernabog's devout worshippers as an offering. However, what truly caught his eye about the small chamber wasn't the furnishings or lack of décor for a throne room, it was what he saw on the floor. Scratched into the stone was a thick, black circle with a complex sigil on the inside of it and slightly overlapping the circle itself.

"How very interesting," Caleb chuckled as he crouched down, shifted his Tesla cannon onto his shoulder to free his left hand for a brief moment, and ran his fingers through the engraving. He knew what this was, anyone with a knowledge of the occult worth their salt would be well aware of this symbol: It was a teleportation circle. A powerful tool for anyone with the know-how to use it, with the only real caveat being you needed to spend the time to prepare for the journey; just casting the spell and stepping into the warpgate was like throwing a dart at a map, you had no idea where you were going to wind up. But what was vexing about this circle was the complexity of the sigil, normally a simple five-pointed star was enough for a teleportation circle and yet this one was ornate and far more complex in its design. How odd.

"Most impressive, Caleb," Suddenly, the hair on the back of Caleb's neck stood straight up as a dark shadow filled the doorway behind him. He turned his head to confirm his suspicions, and sure enough he was right on the money: Tchernobog. The dark deity towered over Caleb, his razor-sharp teeth pulled into a wide smile that was like staring into a mouth full of knives, not helped by how the black voids where his eyes should have been were examining Caleb like a prime cut of lamb at the butcher's. He hurriedly rolled onto his back and pointed the business end of the Tesla cannon right at Tchernobog's ghastly horned skull.

"I finally found you, you son of a bitch," Caleb rasped as he slipped his index finger into the guard, resting it on the trigger and pushing it to the last notch before the cannon would begin to fire. "Any last words before I send you down to the same hellpit Ophelia's soul has been cursed to so she can kick your ass a second time?" The skeletal ghoul simply laughed; the noise making his jaw and spine rattle like macarenas. Caleb winced in disgust at the uncanny sight.

"As if you could strike me down," Techernobog chided, his voice rife with bemused disbelief. "Have you grown so arrogant to forget, my son, that it was I who guided you down the path of the dark arts and the black magic you now use with such finesse? It matters not the shape or size of the toys you point at me oh-so threateningly, they are but toys to me all the same! Bullets will do nothing but annoy me, Caleb!" Now it was Caleb's turn to laugh.

"I find it highly amusing you think this baby shoots bullets, you walking freakshow," Caleb snarked, a sneer pulling up his lips as he felt the heat from the Tesla cannon's cooling vents caressing against his scarred, wrinkled hands. Before Tchernobog had a chance to demand elaboration from Caleb on what he meant by saying that, he pulled the trigger and a slew of high-speed spheres made of concentrated lightning screamed through the air; colliding with the colossal fiend square in the chest. His body twisted and thrashed, and even over the near-deafening squeals and electrical cackling of the cannon, the screams of agony from the forbidden god were still loud and clear for Caleb to enjoy. And enjoy them he did. Tchernobog wasn't just in pain, he was being pushed back. First one step, then another, and a third. Caleb quickly got to his feet and closed the distance between them so he could keep up the assault, occasionally making sure to duck out of the way of the lavender fireballs his opponent was desperately trying to hit him with to get some breathing room. But being such a desperate, wild attack, while these flaming balls would have normally been extremely dangerous for Caleb evading them was incredibly easy and a quick side-step was all he needed to be high and dry.

As the time passed, such a heavy barrage of damage was starting to have a noticeable effect on Tchernobog, despite his supposed unholy durability. While the wounds may have started as fairly minor damage, if extremely painful, the severity of the injuries didn't matter when Caleb was blasting him at such close range and so consistently. His ribs were charred, chunks of bone were breaking off from his body and disintegrating in midair, and if this continued Tchernobog was certain this empty old holy ground was going to be his gravesite. He needed to think up a plan to defeat Caleb, and he needed to do it fast. His mind was racing, his gaze scattering up and down the confined space the two of them were in looking for something to get him out of this. And that's when he saw it; just behind Caleb in the throne room: His ticket for victory.

"I open the gate between worlds!" Tchernobog roared as loud as he could, vainly trying to seize victory from the jaws of defeat with this last gambit. And much to his own delight, it seemed to have worked! A whirlwind started to blow through the empty halls; subtle and quiet at first, but quickly picking up speed and ferocity as the seconds passed until it mutated from a light breeze to a powerful vortex focused on a single spot: The teleportation circle. Caleb jerked his head around to see what in God's name was causing that gust of wind, and the answer made him go pale.

"What is that? Your ticket to run from your most devoted disciple like the coward you are?" he yelled over the whirling scream of the gale. It had gotten so strong that it was starting to suck his hat in, and when he instinctively raised his hand to keep it on his head he realized what a huge mistake he just made.

"No, Caleb. That's not my way out of this fight," Tchernobog smirked, getting back to his full height with that devilish grin plastered on his face. "it's yours." Before Caleb could open fire again, Tchernobog stepped forward and swiped his long, glistening clawed hand through Caleb's chest; tearing his shirt down the middle and reducing it to nothing more than a bloodied rag as he was sent flying backward; getting closer and closer to that vacuum wind. Thinking fast, Caleb threw his Tesla cannon aside, and grabbed onto one of the pillars leading into the throne room, desperate to keep himself from being pulled in with the large weapon. Even as his legs were being pulled into the air, he clung to that column like a drowning man would cling to a rock.

"Where are you going to obtain ultimate power from, if not from me?" Caleb screamed defiantly, fishing into his coat for one last try to slay the beast. He yanked out the only weapon he could feasibly hold when he was in such a predicament: His smallest, weakest weapon in his entire arsenal, the flare gun. Good for taking out small fry like basic brown-robed cultists and mindless zombies; much less so against reality-binding gods. But he didn't care, if he was going down he was going to take this monster down with him.

"There's always going to be another "most devout follower", Caleb, and with any luck they won't be as good of a gunslinger as you!" Tchernobog laughed. Despite sustaining heavy injuries, he still came out on top if only by sheer luck. Luck that was going to run out, if Caleb had anything to say about it. He pointed the flare gun at his foe, who was still having a good guffaw about his supposed victory, and focused his dark spellcraft into the single shot he had to fire. Even if the recoil wasn't going to make him lose his grip on the pillar, there wasn't any way he could reload it with another flare. He had one shot, and that one shot may or may not have had a 50-50 chance of just making the gun explode in his hand like a firecracker. But he pulled the trigger anyway.

The flare launched from the barrel, streaking forward through the wind for a couple of moments before splitting apart into eight separate flares that took the shape of a diamond pattern. That was the last thing Caleb saw before being launched back, screaming a last cry of rebellion before being pulled into the gust of wind and disappearing from his world for a long, long time. Possibly never to return.

"EAT MY ASS, TCHERNOBOOOOG!"

Caleb never did see if his final shot managed to land its mark. One moment, he was in the temple, the next he was spit out of a portal and falling out of the sky. A different sky. Gone were the rolling red clouds that choked the air like volcanic smoke and in their place was a crisp, clear night sky that was filled to the brim with stars that glistened like gemstones. It had been such a long time since Caleb had seen a sky so beautiful and alluring, he would have found it a touch nostalgic if his thoughts weren't interrupted by him plummeting into a pine tree. He crashed through what must have been 30 branches that were all too happy to scratch, cut, scrape, and smack him every which way until he finally reached the bottom and hit the ground below on his back.

"Superhuman durability or not, that still hurt like hell," Caleb mumbled to himself, touching the trunk of the pine tree with his...hoof. That was a hoof. He was touching the tree with a hoof. He brought the new appendage to his face just to double check, then to triple check. And yup, that was still a hoof. He looked himself over to find he had not one hoof but four. Was this some sort of cruel joke? Was it a dream? Since that fall still hurt like nothing else he was willing to bet the answer to that was no, unfortunately. He rolled over onto his stomach so he could stand up and get a better look at himself. He felt up to his head, and while he did still have the hat on he touched something hard like bone against his skull. Was it some kind of horn? Another question to add to the pile. He seemed to still have the coat, and it seemed to have also been accommodated to fit his new body which was nice, though he doubted any of his weaponry would be of any use. Though, that did have him wondering where the Tesla cannon and flare gun went. "Mysteries to solve at a later time. Right now, I have a more pressing issue: HOW DO I MOVE?"

It was weird to think about, but he really would need to learn to walk again if he wanted to get anywhere. Actually, there was a lot he would need to effectively relearn how to do. Walking, running, grabbing things, he felt like a newborn again and he hated it. He racked his brain, trying in vain to recall if he'd ever watched a horse walk before, but he was drawing nothing but blanks. He was so lost in thought he didn't even hear the sound of something coming up from behind him until they spoke.

"Mister, are you doing okay?" the sound of a young girl's voice rang out, and when Caleb snapped around to see who that voice belonged to he found a very small, green-furred horse starring back at him with a look of perplexed confusion, though she quickly shied away from him. Oddly enough, she didn't seem to have any horns or bone sticking out of her forehead. Maybe Caleb was mutated, maybe he was just built different. "I heard a loud crash and came to investigate, and I found you just standing here."

"I'm minding my own business, that's what I'm doing here," Caleb scowled, his hellish red eyes narrowing as he looked her over. She looked like she couldn't have been older than ten, if he were to make a very haphazard approximation. For some reason, she had a tattoo of a pearl necklace on her back leg. That was...odd. Did he have one of those? He craned his neck to look at his own hind legs and yep, he did: A matching pair of tattoos actually. His was of a bloody hoofprint; like a horse just dipped one of theirs in a bucket of crimson paint, smacked him on the ass a couple times and called it a day. No idea what that was supposed to mean or how it showed up in the first place. "And what's a runt like you doing out here in the dead of night anyway? Didn't your parents teach you anything about approaching strangers in the middle of the woods? I could be dangerous."

"Well, I mean my house is right over there," the young filly stated matter-of-factly, pointing over towards a small wooden cottage not a hundred feet from where Caleb was standing. Explained why she heard the crash in the first place, he probably made a lot of noise on his trip down to the ground. "Besides, even if you did try to fillynap me I'd just yell real loud and my dad would come beat you up! He's an ex-Royal Guard, you know. The best of the best." Caleb opened his mouth to say he'd like to see the old man try, but decided against it when he remembered just what sort of state he was in. "But my name is Triumphant Gleam! What's yours, mister?"

"Caleb. Sorry to cut to the chase, but I'm not here for small talk. I need to get out of here. Where's the nearest teleportation circle, or some sort of authority on magic? Is there anything like that here?!" He knew asking that was probably just chasing a pipe dream. He didn't even know if this place had magic in the first place, but at least it was worth a shot.

"That's a weird name," Gleam said as she got a closer look at the tall, withered stallion. "And your clothes are really weird, too! You're not from around here, are you Caleb?" He didn't say anything, just shook his head dismissively. That would have been putting it lightly. He literally wasn't even a part of this world. "Magic? I don't know much about it, but Dad could probably get you in touch with Princess Twilight! She knows all about stuff like that! What if I brought you home, got you something to eat? I'm sure you aren't doing too hot after that big fall. Then we can talk to dad about getting you to Canterlot to talk with her!"

"...Sure, why not. You lead the way, I seem to have injured my leg on the way down and want to make sure I can still walk," Caleb said flatly. That was a lie, of course. His legs were working just fine. He just wasn't about to admit to a child that he didn't know how to walk in the first place. She gave him an affirmative nod and went back the way she came with a big, cheery smile on her face. Caleb analyzed her movements very carefully; monkey see, monkey do. Left back leg, then left front leg, then repeat for the right side and start the cycle anew. Didn't seem too hard. He took his first steps forward, and they were very slow and clunky first steps. But then came the second, third, and fourth cycles. Before he knew it, Caleb was walking around just fine. He caught up with Triumphant Gleam shortly afterward.

"Just one thing Caleb," Gleam whispered as she rested her hoof on the wooden door. "Prepare yourself. My mom....something's wrong with her and we don't really know what it is. A couple days ago, she went out with some friends for lunch, and not only did we not see her again until early the next morning she came back...different. Like, really different." Before Caleb could ask any questions, she pushed open the door and before he even saw what the inside looked like he could already hear yelling from within.

What he did see looked livable enough It was a small, warmly furnished cabin that reminded Caleb of something he'd see in an idyllic Claude Monet painting or a brochure for woodlands getaway vacation. The walls were smoothly painted with cool blues that seemed like a perfect fit for the stone hearth against the eastern side of the cabin, while the floorboards were made from a lovely polished oak. And yet, the more he looked around the harder the illusion was shattered. Bookshelves had been toppled over with their contents spilled across the ground, the broken shards of a vase lied scattered about like caltrops. And then he looked into the dining room. Sitting at the table in the center of the room was a snow-white unicorn, who Caleb noted was not only missing an eye but also had one of his legs replaced with a small steel wheel. That must have been Gleam's daddy dearest. She did say he was part of the military or something to that effect. He was currently slinking away from a grey Pegasus, presumably her mother, who had climbed onto the table and looked like she was about 30 seconds away from just tearing out his throat right there. Neither of them looked like they had slept in days. The stallion had dark bags under his eyes, while his wife's stark back mane and the feathers of her wings were untamed and filthy.

"Silver Spear, please calm down, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I just can't keep up anymore, you've drained me dry and I'm exhausted!" The stallion pleaded, clearly on the verge of just breaking down and crying. "I'm beyond tired, and I don't know what to do anymore!" The mare, evidently named Silver Spear, just shoved him with her hooves, knocking both him and the chair he was sitting in to the floor, before jumping off the table to close the distance. Caleb felt Gleam stuffing herself under his coat for comfort, and while his initial response would have been to shove her aside, he was willing to make this one exception.

"Well you better think of something you useless cripple or one of two things are going to happen," Silver screamed into her husband's face, making him wince away in terror. He couldn't look her in the eyes anymore, it was like some animal was just wearing her skin to mess with him. "Either I'm going to start force-feeding you medicine to make you last longer in bed, or I'll just move onto other targets and start anew. Now which is it going to be, Winter Wind?" He didn't answer, too frightened by her to do so. Unfortunately, that wasn't an answer she wanted. Her face twisted into a mask of utmost blind rage, and she raised her hoof to strike Winter. Gleam, not able to watch any longer, dashed from underneath Caleb's coat and cried out in protest.

"STOP! You're hurting him, mom! Please stop!" Silver's gaze snapped towards her daughter with an uncomfortable quickness, even startling Caleb a little. Noticing they had a visitor, her piercing golden eyes snapped from her daughter to Caleb. And like someone had just flipped a switch, her entire personality changed. Her anger melted away like snow, her body language became more demure, her grimace turned into a sultry smile. Hell, like some form of magic her feathers pruned themselves and every unkept string of hair in her mane became neatly combed and cleaned.

"Why hello there handsome," Silver purred, gazing at Caleb with half-lidded eyes as she approached, casually brushing aside the broken glass and scattered novels with her hoof like they weren't there. He just scowled in disgust, not saying a word to the Pegasus. "Sweetie, why didn't you tell mommy that you'd be bringing home such a virile stud for company tonight? I would've had time to get all cleaned up! We're going to have a talk after I'm done..." She pressed her chest against Caleb's, only for him to immediately step back against the hearth. Gleam ignored her, rushing over to her father to check that he was still okay. "Mmm, fuck just being near you is making me wet. I can smell the magic coursing through your veins. It's nothing like my husband's pitiful supply, you're positively dripping with magic! And it's oh-so vile and disgusting!"

"I'm not interested, bitch," Caleb growled, meeting her sultry gaze with a death glare. Though, her compliments confused him. There was magic here? And she could smell it on him?! Could the other ponies do that? Gleam hadn't said anything of the sort when they met. "I don't care what sort of charms you think you have, I guarantee they are not going to work on me."

"Aww, not interested huh?" Silver whined, feigning disappointment in the unicorn's response. "That's okay, stud." She leaned in real close to Caleb, so close that he could feel her hot breath against his ear. And hear the repulsive quivering arousal in her voice. "I like it when my prey aren't interested. It means they're going to fight back. Besides, unlike that blind waste of air, I'm not under any restrictions from just brainwashing y-" Before she could so much as utter another peep, he clocked her in the side of the head with his left hoof, thrashing her head with a sudden jerk and colliding straight into the hearth with a sickening crack. Silver Spear fell limply to the floor, blood pouring from her skull.

"Fight's over," Caleb said, a smirk tugging at his lips. It was good to know he hadn't lost his touch when he was dropped into this world. Gleam and Winter were staring at him in appalled shock, neither of them able to so much as scream at what he'd done. The air was still and deathly quiet as the blood from the fallen Pegasus pooled on the floor. Blood that was a distinct greyish-green coloration, just like the spider Caleb had blown to smithereens. Then her silver fur started to recede and disappear, revealing a glistening black chitin underneath.

Author's Note

Behold, probably the first MLP x Blood crossover fic!