Faust's Commandment

“You,” Pinkie snarled, her poofy tail stiff in the air. “You big… fat… meanie! You're just a stupid party pooper!”

The word-for-word replica of the term made Peter chuckle. It echoed across the empty, flaming plaza. “Prophets have always been party poopers,” he repeated from memory, folding his arms.

So these were the Mane Six. Five, whatever. And Spike was nowhere to be seen. Peter caught Applejack staring with fury at him, and allowed a smile of satisfaction to cross his concealed mouth. And the counterparts of Fluttershy, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash were as equally disappointing to him as Pinkie and Applejack had been.

“Wait a minute!” Fluttershy exclaimed, pointing up at Peter's mask. “That's Zecora's mask! You took it from her hou-” She gasped, her hands to her mouth. “Oh, no,” she whimpered. “You… You killed her!”

The other four girls turned to Fluttershy simultaneously. “What?!” they cried in shock.

“I found her body this morning,” Fluttershy shakily revealed. “You did it…”

And the other girls slowly turned to Peter in anger.

Peter had been counting on Fluttershy finding the body. He nodded so they all could see. “And I would do it again.”

With a few hard puffs of her wings, Rainbow flapped twenty feet into the air, putting up her dukes at Peter and making him crane his head. “Come on, ya fat furry! One-v-one me! I'll kick your fucking ass!”

Peter winced at the language and looked her dead in the eye. “Down.”

And Rainbow's wings seized up, unmoving. She yelped in fright and plummeted twenty feet back down to the earth, landing hard on her side and smushing one wing. She didn't move; she had most likely broken a rib. Fluttershy gasped and rushed to her aid.

“You MONSTER!” came Rarity, and enveloped Peter completely in magic. Peter was raised into the air, and Rarity jabbed a furious finger up at him. “I show everypony pleasure and pain, but I'll forgo the pleasure for you! Stay back, girls!”

And a dozen bits of stone rubble were raised from the strewn plaza. Coated in Rarity's aura, they fired right at Peter.

Upon impacting Peter's skin, they shattered into even smaller pieces and blew away. Immobilized, Peter allowed her to exhaust all her ammunition this way. Then, through his will, he ignited his body into white-turquoise flame.

It made Rarity's horn catch on fire as well, which came as a surprise to both parties. Rarity shrieked and cut off her magic, and the flame went away. Peter landed to the ground with a heavy slam like a cat.

Taking advantage, Peter pointed right at Rarity. He didn't want to kill them, not right away. But he did want to give them a reminder. And a good example of one was almost hanging out of Rarity's unzipped leather jacket.

With a silent command, Rarity's right breast was shorn right off with a spray of blood.

The anguished sounds coming from Rarity were inhuman, unimaginable. She tried to keep it in place, but the slippery breast slipped out and squished with a blood-wet plop on the earth. Blood was getting all over the leather and latex, and Peter couldn't decide which she valued more: her body or her clothes. Rarity was hyperventilating and pawing at the ground weakly as more blood leaked out. He shut off the fiery aura once he figured she wouldn't be a problem.

The instant this happened, Peter felt a fist slam into his chest. The blow was absorbed by how thick the bear pelt was and the blessing Faust had given it, but Peter felt it enough to pay attention to his next challenger. Pinkie Pie, crouched like a feral cat and completely naked by now, screamed at the highest pitch she could reach and fired herself at him again.

At first, she came from the front. Then, when Peter blinked, she zipped away and came at him from the side, striking him a few times before coming from a different direction.

Pinkie's hits to the chest were hard; even after the hit absorption, Peter could feel each one. But he continued allowing them to land, staring her down as she continued to rapid-fire punches into him.

Then he threw his head up. Pinkie's face was in the way of his fangs.

Pinkie cried out and immediately broke into sobs, clutching her bleeding face. There were deep red lines in her chin, splitting her lip and going up her cheekbones and the cartilage of her small nose.

Peter wasn't done. His ruthless fist connected with her cut face, sending her plummeting off the stage and landing on her upper back. She curled up and began bawling.

Thick drops of blood dripped from the fangs and discolored the lower part of Peter's mask. The fire from his earlier ignition had set the stage at his feet ablaze, giving him fearsome lighting.

Peter regarded Applejack beneath him with narrowed eyes. Applejack's expression of fury was tainted by horror and fear, flickering here and there to her injured friends.

Peter's arm came up. His fingers curled twice in a challenge.

Applejack broke into a snarl and pushed her wide-brimmed hat over one eye. “You'll regret the day you came here,” she promised, as deeply as she could.

“I already do,” Peter promised, bending his knees.

With nothing else to be said, Applejack launched into the air. Her legendary legs were more powerful than Peter initially realized, and she flipped and came down with an axe kick a second after where he had once been. The heel of her cowboy boot splintered the stage.

Peter kept his eyes on her and his arms up to block the next strike, which impacted his forearms and made them sore. Applejack followed up with the ol’ one-two before delivering a spinning kick to his arms again.

“You think ya can jus’ waltz in and start killin’ us?!” Applejack yelled, launching a hard right hook next.

Peter caught her fist with his right hand. It took more force than he anticipated. “Obviously,” he quickly replied.

He shoved Applejack's fist right back into her face, then silently ordered the Sparks in the air between them to erupt. With a shockwave, they did.

It only blew Applejack back a little bit before launching another kick. As soon as the attack was committed, Peter ignited into flame again, sharpening his reflexes, and snatched her foot.

And while her leg was up like this, Peter's other fist fired directly into Applejack's groin with all the force he could.

Applejack toppled backwards and collapsed, clutching her sore vulva and making little whimpers and sounds of pain. Peter stayed right where he was, regarding her on the stage, and was suddenly struck by its familiarity. Once again, he was standing over a helpless Applejack, where he could easily slay her if he so desired.

He didn't.

Peter turned his back on her and squinted at something on the stone base that had miraculously survived the devastation so far. It was a simple stone altar. Mayor Mare had mentioned as much, dedicated to the Princesses. So that needed to go.

Peter gestured upwards, and the block of solid stone gently soared into the air. With one command, the altar snapped in half like a Kit-Kat. With another, the two pieces were loudly blasted in two opposite directions. One splooshed into the nearby river running through Ponyville. The other sailed in a clean arc out of the town and crashed into the tree line of the Everfree.

A hand gripped the back of Peter's cloak, and he whirled around, breaking the grip. Applejack was on her hands and knees, face contorted in pain and outrage. Her hat was off.

“Don't,” Peter warned.

Applejack ignored him and fired her fist into his groin.

She stayed like that for a few seconds before looking up despondently at Peter's emotionless mask. Peter hadn't felt a thing; he had ordered his skin to be as tough as steel.

She was in the perfect position for Peter to grip her by the base of her ponytail and drag her to a half-standing position, which Peter did. He marched to the end of the wooden stage, with her struggling the entire way, and hurled her, with enhanced strength, to the ground. She landed on her lower back, and Applejack yelped and went stiff.

Peter hopped off the stage as well and headed for the wall of fire leading into Ponyville. There were rubble and body parts along the way, and Peter avoided stepping on them the best he could.

“Hey!” Rainbow's scratchy voice bellowed. “Get back here, you! You think I'm gonna give up that easy?!”

Peter stopped. He considered it for only a moment. Then he swiveled on his heel and stalked right back for a startled Rainbow Dash, shakily on her feet and clutching her side.

Rainbow Dash. His personal favorite, and the one he was not looking forward to fighting the most. Peter had gotten Rainbow out of the picture quickly for that exact reason.

Rainbow stumbled over to him, wheezing and cocking an arm back. Peter knocked it aside as it closed in, then swung his arm and with a hard thunk backhanded her to the ground.

Rainbow was wheezing and coughing for breath. She got to her elbows and knees, bringing them under her, then rose up once more, face contorted in rage.

Which Peter punched as hard as he could. Rainbow stumbled back and collapsed once more, and this time, she did not get up.

Rarity had fainted from blood loss. Pinkie was still crying and clutching her cut face. Applejack was hissing and groaning, unable to stand. Which left only one.

"That DOES IT!"

The distinctive voice of Fluttershy was enough to turn him to her.

Indeed, there she was, briefly blinded by her rage so she had the courage to stand up to him. Her pointed ears were flattened and her long pink tail stiff in the air. The fires he had been heading to burned some distance behind him, and in the fifteen feet between him and her, there were pieces of rubble and spots of blood on the earth. The smoke had darkened the air around them.

Peter narrowed his eyes as his mind reviewed what he knew. This was a doppelganger. A monster who abused herself with animals, whose every waking thought was about sex and how to pervert it. If the real Fluttershy saw her, she'd want to get rid of her.

This monster pointed at Peter. "You do NOT just come in here and start destroying Ponyville for no reason! All the ponies you're hurting– what have they ever done to you? They are my friends! My lovers! They've brought me so much light, and here you are, burning it all down!"

Peter knew that she didn't know the entire picture, but there was only one answer to her accusation. So Peter folded his arms again and slowly nodded, making sure she could see it.

Fluttershy growled and put her hands on her wide hips. "If you don't stop what you're doing right now and offer us all an apology, I'm going to have to use… The OTHER Stare!"

Other Stare? There was only one. Then Peter remembered that she was living in a sexualized world, and he instantly knew what the first kind of Stare was. He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

That just seemed to infuriate Fluttershy even more. Hovering in the air on her wings, Fluttershy's gaze suddenly hardened and burned.

Peter couldn't look away. Fluttershy's gaze was strong, and vivid.

But the fear and guilt he was expecting… simply didn't come.

And the more Peter reflected on it, the clearer it became. The Stare was meant to induce obedience by influencing guilt, and Peter did not feel guilty about his actions. And anyway, Fluttershy's ideals were simply wrong, and he knew what was right, so why should he be coerced into doing her will?

So Peter, after allowing her to stare him down for a good ten seconds, thrust his chin out pugnaciously. "Try harder," he taunted.

Fluttershy almost stopped hovering in shock. Her very expressive face was pulled in confusion and distress.

Then Peter answered her with his own Stare.

His own vision was hazy, probably from the bright glare in his irises. He poured all his scorn and rebuke into that look, and it was amplified by the power of Faust, and Fluttershy was naturally bashful, so it didn't take long before a captive Fluttershy whimpered, winced, landed, and feverishly turned away from Peter's glare.

"Your gaze is strong," Peter acknowledged. He blinked, and his gaze softened. "But not enough. Don't you know that with a glance, the Goddess could smite you into dust?"

Fluttershy slowly turned back to Peter. She was not about to look him in the eyes again. So her gaze now roamed all over Peter, examining the bear pelt he wore. She froze after a few moments. Her eyes then traveled to the teeth on his mask.

"I know those teeth," Fluttershy breathed in realization. "I've kissed his lips too often! Did-" Fluttershy began to hyperventilate. "Did you k… kill my bear too?!"

It really was the same bear, then. Harry, if he recalled correctly. Peter felt revulsion sweep over him at Fluttershy's words. And also relief; at least Fluttershy couldn't do any more damage to the bear. Faust's purposes were truly all-encompassing.

Oh yeah, Fluttershy had asked him something. Peter nodded once more. “For his own good.”

That was not the answer that won Fluttershy over. She dropped to her knees and began to weep, palms over her eyes. “But why?!” she wailed. “Why are you destroying everything we love?”

“Are you sure you want to hear the answer?” Peter asked.

In the bundles of Fluttershy's enormous hair peeked out a small white face with long pink ears. It was Angel, the boisterous little thing. Angel, for his part, knew his loyalties. Much as he liked teasing Fluttershy, she was still his owner. And seeing her in this condition had made him boil over; Peter could see the scarlet in Angel's furious expression.

Angel bounded out of Fluttershy's hair and leaped to the ground, and then back up to Peter’s face, jaws wide open and fully intent on biting his face off.

For Peter, most likely because of his Bestowal, it was as if Angel was slowed down just a little bit, giving him more time to react. Peter's hand came up and clamped around Angel's face right before he reached him.

"No," Peter denied.

And he clenched his fist.

Angel's head was crushed in his grip with a burst of blood. His soaked lower body dropped to the ground at Peter's feet.

"ANGEL!" Fluttershy screamed in horror, falling to her hands and breaking into even more tears. She crawled on her hands over to the bloody corpse, gibbering the entire way. Upon reaching him, Fluttershy gently picked the body up with her dainty hands, gazing at Angel with grief and disbelief.

Peter finally felt guilt come upon him. The feeling in his hand when the rabbit's head had imploded was a disgusting, squirmy one. Peter never wanted to do it again. And murdering two pets, one of them a rabbit in front of its owner, was about as villainous as it got– Peter felt like the biggest douchebag on the planet. Fluttershy had gone through enough in one day already.

Fluttershy was still kneeling in front of Peter, weeping over Angel, with the enormous fires still blazing only a few meters away. Peter could have killed her too, like the bastard he felt like, but even though this was a completely different Fluttershy than the one he knew, his heart swelled.

"Fluttershy."

And the pony froze, bending her teary face up in reply. It didn't make Peter feel any better.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. But he also knew what Fluttershy was guilty of. "He shouldn't have gotten involved."

Fluttershy's face contorted in fury. She rose up and hurled a fist at Peter's mask.

Peter easily caught the fist with his hand. Even with all the force Fluttershy had put into it, she lacked any kind of threat.

"It's what needs to be done," Peter tried to reason with the struggling girl. "I know you don’t understand. You need to see with heaven's eyes."

"You mean…" Fluttershy's stricken eyes quivered. "You're really doing this in the name of God?"

Peter bowed his head to better address her. But he probably was just intimidating her more. Poor girl. "It wasn't my idea."

And he threw Fluttershy's fist back, sending her stumbling and plopping on her butt. She still held Angel's body.

“I’ve killed your pets,” Peter told Fluttershy while she was lying there. “But at least I don't bang them.”

And he turned and stormed away. Upon reaching the flame wall, the fires parted, and he went through without catching them on fire. The crackles of fire drowned out the weeping he had caused the girls to make.

But it didn't drown out the pangs of heartache.

Everywhere Peter went, there was chaos and destruction. For instance, when he entered a particular public square that was crowded with teeming and desperate souls, most ponies fled at his appearance, and the few courageous ones that remained soon followed.

As they fled, Peter pointed his spread hand into one section of the crowd. And he hesitated. Did he really need to kill them so directly?

An image came into his mind of the altar. What else could they be doing with it under a giant statue of the naked princesses? Something obscene, no doubt. Something normal for this world. Something unsafe for the unborn and the young children already here.

All this passed in a second. And Peter changed his aim so it targeted the older ponies first.

Blazing tongues of fire ripped through more than a dozen of them, and the rest of the crowd dispersed as quickly as they could. Peter was soon left alone in the town square. The fire wall behind him had spread to several homes, darkening the sky with smoke.

Incidentally, Peter recognized his surroundings as the same town square he had appeared in when he first came to Equestria. The reason why was because of the prominent building directly to his right.

Sugarcube Corner. Peter tilted his head up and examined it regretfully. Why did it have to descend like this? Where children could see explicit things carved out of chocolate in the window, where it was under the management of freaks that thought semen needed to be in everything.

Peter sent out a visible pulse that washed over the building. There were ponies inside, huddled behind the counter and under tilted tables. Upstairs, Mr and Mrs Cake hid in their room. There were cradles in the bedroom, but empty ones. Where were the children?

And Peter remembered the altar, and it all became clear.

Peter twisted his face in realization and disgust under the mask. He lifted his arm. With a flick of his hand, the walls of Sugarcube Corner ignited into flame. Not content, Peter willed the fires to rise higher, and soon the entire building was enveloped in snapping orange.

The glass display shattered, and one pony– the name came to him through the spirit as Flitter Gust– crawled through into the street, coughing. She recoiled backwards upon seeing Peter, though, and almost seemed eager to leap back into the burning building.

“Well, Flitter?” Peter proposed without moving. She had no discernable personality, but she had a name, which made her stand out to him. She only had on a pair of lilac bikini bottoms and her pink hair bow, however, and she was not the pony she should have been. “How clean are you in the eyes of God?”

Flitter Gust couldn't look him in the eye.

Peter also said nothing, and he turned aside and started to walk. Suddenly, something heavy struck him in the back, and he stumbled before whirling around.

Flitter Gust was recoiling in the air from her impact, flapping up and trying desperately to fly away from the flaming town.

Peter reached out with his hand and clenched. Fitter Gust was instantly held in place ten feet in midair. Redoubling her efforts to flap away didn't help, and she screamed as she realized it.

Peter couldn't just throw her back into the burning building, but he couldn't let her fly away, either. So, closing his eyes in guilt, he violently jerked her neck.

Peter heard her screams stop and her body hit the ground. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and whirled around, unable to look.

Flitter Gust wasn't going to do anything more, but the sounds of Flitter's screams and desperate cries still tore at his heart. So he left; nothing more was going to come from looking at her gray body.

The roar of Sugarcube Corner behind him couldn't quite drown out the pounding in his ears.

He set fire to every other building he came across. Peter was on a direct route to somewhere specific, but there was no time like the present.

He turned a corner into a residential street. Background ponies everywhere were panicking outside their homes. Between the tall fires surrounding the town and the fires within the town swiftly approaching, there was little they could do. A few pegasi were lifting ponies one at a time into the air, but they were mostly mares and couldn't carry as much as the stallions could.

Upon seeing Peter in the street, the screaming intensified; Peter scrunched his face at the noise. And he was met with an onslaught of voices clamoring with various things. Some were pleadings to spare them. Some were furious railings and accusations. But one voice above the rest caught his attention.

“OUTTA THE WAY!” bellowed a very distinctive pony, and he elbowed several mares aside as he pushed through the crowd. When he got in front of everyone else, Peter was surprised he even needed to get to the front at all to see; the pony was nearly twice as tall as the others. He was pale, his eyes red with madness. Every part of him bulged with muscle, to the point where his black wife-beater fit him like a loose sunburn. He probably couldn't fit through most doors unless he turned to the side.

“Bulk Biceps,” Peter recognized, tilting his head to look him in the eye. “I used to look up to you.”

“YEAH!” Bulk Biceps roared in triumph, assuming a double-gun pose that was more like a double-cannon. Then he quickly reevaluated. “I MEAN, SHUT UP!”

Peter folded his arms. So this was the one dumping his foul seed into Pinkie and Twilight every week regularly? In addition to who knows how many other mares. Peter could easily see it. But he cut off his mind before it went any further.

“YEAH, YOU! YOU SHUT YOUR FACE!” Bulk Biceps assumed a crouch that blocked out the crowd behind him, arms wide and ready to receive his opponent. He snorted like a bull, his bloodshot eyes unstable. “WHEREVER YOU'RE GOING, YOU GOTTA GO THROUGH ME FIRST! YEEEAH!”

And the crowd roared with triumph behind him.

Peter examined Bulk with exasperation for just a moment. Then he made a finger gun and pointed at Bulk Biceps’ head.

He fired, and Bulk's eyes glazed over. He swayed unsteadily on his feet before leaning forwards, and with a quaking thud, Bulk Biceps toppled facedown, brain-dead.

That's what David really shoulda done to Goliath, was the thought that came to Peter. He was tempted to laugh.

But the panicking townsfolk made it hard to do that. As Peter came forward, each of them dived into their homes, terrified to even breathe the same air as him. Peter ignored them as he passed by; the fires would take care of them soon enough.

Peter trudged onward, and everywhere he went, he was given a wide berth. He came into new streets and saw some townsfolk desperately having their last sex sessions with anyone nearby, before they were consumed. These ones Peter didn't allow to finish; he left their exposed bodies lying in the street.

Others were taking valuables and any small possessions they could carry and running somewhere, anywhere that wasn't where they currently were. Peter spotted, through the teeming crowd, a ragged, dirty old homeless pony snatch a blanket out of the arms of a pleading mother on the other side of the street. Peter quickly targeted and slew the homeless one with a bolt of white fire that sent him sprawling on the front steps of a home. When this happened, everyone scattered anew, including the mother who he had helped out, and Peter was left alone once more.

The worst ones were the ponies that didn't even attempt to move. On his path through Ponyville, Peter sometimes found these dead-eyed ponies staring at the fires swiftly approaching them. They had given up. They knew they couldn't be saved. Peter spared them and regarded them with a broken heart.

Finally, once Peter reached his destination, he had to swallow something invisible as he came to an abandoned small music box lying on its side amidst other debris. The music box was open, but Peter couldn't hear its tinkle over the screams of ponies in houses all around him.

Peter looked up sadly. He was at his destination.

Carousel Boutique's windows proudly displayed only lingerie, latex suits, and other lewd accessories and decorations. There were even throw pillows and blankets with the most obscene pictures and captions like Incest is Wincest, or Money's Tight, But Not Me. Past the displays, Peter could see plastic models and racks full of nothing but more of the same thing.

"So shallow," Peter mourned.

He lifted his hand and placed it on the side of the shop. Blazing orange flame blossomed out from his palm and covered the boutique's wall in a matter of seconds. With a nudge of Peter's mind, the flames spread to the entire boutique shortly after.

Peter stood silently, gazing into the blazing depths of the beloved set piece. It was a shame that Carousel Boutique needed to go, but it was very likely that all sorts of awful things had happened within. And now its filth was burning away.

After Peter had his fill, he slowly turned. The heat and wind from the powerful flames sent his cloak snapping out to the side, and he winced as he saw Ponyville as a whole now.

Pillars of inky smoke arose from dozens of spots all across the town. Several homes and shops had collapsed into piles of blazing wood and glowing stone. Peter could hear cries and screams and crackles of flame.

Peter winced as he folded his arms. Not at the sight of a destroyed piece of childhood, but the fact that he had done it. It needed to be done, and Peter had no regrets about destroying Ponyville, but if Peter said he enjoyed it, he would be either a liar or a madman.

Peter examined the scene further. Most of the inhabitants seemed to be flooding towards the distant Castle of Friendship. Boxed in by the flames, there was nowhere else to go.

"That won't save you," Peter murmured. He set off for the castle.

“Everyone inside!” Spike urged, holding Twilight's castle doors open for the flood of ponies coming his way. “Make room, make room! Quick!”

One pony in the crowd, Carrot Top, poked her head over the top. “Oh, it's useless!” she cried. “Can't you see? We're all going to burn! We're all going to die!”

“The castle is safe!” Spike yelled back before her words could be taken to heart. “It's from the Tree of Harmony, and it won't allow the castle to be destroyed! Now come on, inside! Twilight has rooms for all of you!”

Spike miraculously wasn't swept aside by the inundation of ponies rushing inside. His eyes started to get tired from the flashing of all the different colors of their skins, though. The smoke in the air wasn't helping either. Spike could see the fires that had consumed most of Ponyville only about 100 meters away, and the rush for Twilight's castle was never fiercer.

Then the screams became louder, the pushing more intense. As the last of the ponies came inside and Spike could finally shut the door with a ponderous bang, Spike saw the cause of the commotion.

There he was. The fires of Ponyville that stretched out behind him threw the Prophet's front into shadow. And Spike numbly realized that he was the only one left outside!

The prophet inclined his head in greeting. “Ah. There you are, Spike.”

Spike let out an uncertain whimper. He plucked at the front of his red button-up shirt and shuffled his feet without breaking eye contact. They were both the same height.

“I must say, you're taller than I imagined,” Peter said, stepping forward. Spike appropriately went backwards an equal amount. “The Spike I knew hadn't hit his growth spurt yet.”

The Spike he knew? But something was off. Spike set his face in stone, his courage returning. “I am not the Spike you know.”

“I figured,” the Prophet said.

“I mean, it's not his spurt. I'm a girl.”

The Prophet made no response.

“And I don't know you, so you must be some kind of stalker, or someth-”

The Prophet burst into laughter, bending over as it doubled. Spike felt his color rise in embarrassment and fury.

“A…” the Prophet got out. “A girl?! You're not…” He stopped laughing abruptly. “...You are serious,” he noted.

“I've never been so serious about anything in my entire life,” Spike affirmed.

The Prophet sighed in resignation. “And never have you also been so wrong.”

That did it. Spike lunged for him, baring his claws and fangs. The Prophet stepped aside right before his attack hit, though, and Spike snarled loudly and repeated the process.

With every swipe, the Prophet nimbly dodged, without even revealing his hands or spreading his arms. Spike would close in and snap his fangs, and the Prophet would suddenly be just out of range.

“You reach and you grasp, but it's just too far,” Peter taught, evading another lunge. Spike was getting increasingly angry as their little dance went on. “Some things aren't meant to be, my man.”

“I AM NOT A MAN!” Spike bellowed, stopping with tears in his eyes. “HOW DARE YOU CALL ME THAT, you stupid, you… you hateful-!” Spike snarled and screamed in frustration.

“Spike,” the Prophet said.

“SHUT! UP!” Spike bellowed, and a torrent of green fire came out of his wide mouth. It created a barrier between him and the Prophet, who made no attempt to bypass it. Spike jabbed a finger at him through the fire. “You don't know me! Not what I've been through!”

“But I do know biology,” Peter shut down. His dark image was hazy through the merry green waist-tall flames. “Spike, I could have hurled you a football field away by now, but I'm choosing to stay and say this to you, because no one else will. You will never be a woman! You’ll lose yourself for nothing!”

“Yeah?!” Spike fired back in his blind anger. “Well, you'll never be a good pony!”

Peter was silent. For a few seconds, there was only the snapping of flames as they stared each other down.

“I've listened to that lie before,” Peter said. “It came from the devil. So is the lie you're listening to now, Spike.”

“What if I want to be like the devil, huh?” Spike challenged, starting to encircle the firepit. Peter appropriately circled so he was opposite him. “What if I don't want anything to do with you?”

And Spike belatedly realized that by circling around the fire, Peter now had a clear path to the castle.

Peter pointed through the fire, which licked harmlessly at his arm. “Then I still triumph.”

And Spike was hurled backward at the speed of a train. He flew until he struck the splintered timbers of a collapsed house some distance away.

As Spike lost consciousness, his last thoughts were of intense anger at Peter's words.

With a deafening crack and burst of wooden shards, the twin heavy doors blasted into splinters and scattered all over the floor.

The monster was there, his hands balled in fists and his posture stiff.

Peter looked all around. The castle was the same as he remembered from the show. Rich deep purple carpets, angled crystalline pillars merged into the walls, emerald green doors and windows. Golden candelabras were stuck into the walls, and the high ceiling was firmly buttressed.

There was a long hallway to his left and right, and a hall going forward. Ponies were in all three halls, scrambling backwards from his terrible presence.

He set foot inside the castle. He might have been the first human to do so. It was momentous for him, at least. Peter cast his eyes about, partially admiring the castle's features, but partially observing the crowd. They were restless, rumbling with whispers and hisses.

“You know why I'm here,” Peter finally said, and the whispers died down. “Your sexual sins have offended God. This is your last chance. Repent and become clean again. Or die where you stand.”

“You're gonna kill us because we're horny?!” came an outraged yell. Some ponies yelled in agreement.

“Because you abused the gifts of God,” Peter corrected, turning in the appropriate direction. “Because you preach lies that turn your children away from truth and into darkness.”

“And what'll you do, set the castle on fire?! Crystal can't burn!" the same voice retorted.

Peter's mind immediately reflected on Faust at the Tree of Harmony. How the tree's heavenly influence extended directly into Twilight's castle. There was literally no way this crystal couldn't burn.

Peter couldn't help but break into a small, deep bout of laughter. He lifted his hand high in the air and instantly slammed his palm into the crystal floor. A deep shockwave accompanied a spreading circle of white flame centered on Peter. The flame, only as tall as grass, ate up the carpet just fine, but it traveled through crystal like it was gasoline, coming to the walls and pillars and immediately traveling up them.

The collection of ponies shrieked and started running deeper into the castle or up the stairs. Peter, straightening, raised his hand above his head, and the pale flames expanding all around him grew in intensity from grass blades to wheat stalks.

The flames on the pillars and walls reached the ceiling and merged into the roof. Doubtless the flames were reaching the upper levels now. Peter could sadly picture in his mind the ponies at windows and balconies, considering jumping.

Peter, of course, was unhurt as he started strolling through the castle in the midst of the surrounding flames. With each footstep, a new circle of white fire was born that grew in diameter until they merged into each other.

Peter reached a pair of wide double doors. A quick fist into the center of it smashed the locks and blew the doors inside.

Peter found himself in the circular throne room, with the prominent Cutie Map out in the center. As fire quickly spread throughout Twilight's throne room, Peter examined the active Cutie Map.

Most of Equestria had been defiled. The map showed that most of the landmarks and structures in the world had been twisted into various phallic images and suggestive shapes.

Peter gazed upon the map with growing resentment and horror. It had gotten to the point where the sexualization was honestly ridiculous. Canterlot's slender pearly spires looked explicitly like penises sticking into the sky. The Mare of Liberty in Manehattan's bay held yet another penis right above her gaping mouth. Las Pegasus… well, it was Las Pegasus.

Peter kicked Twilight's throne down until the headrest cracked against the edge of the table. From there, he strode across the back of the throne onto the holographic table. Peter towered over Equestria, looking down with absolute disgust.

"It really does need to die," Peter realized.

And he turned his eyes upward. The decorated roots of the Golden Oak Library were embedded in the ceiling. And with a lump in his throat, Peter realized that he would be finishing the job Tirek had started just a few months ago.

He held a spread hand up in the air, collecting coils of flame from all around the room in little streams. They coalesced into a tight translucent ball that grew bigger than his head. And, squeezing his eyes shut, he hurled the fireball into the map at his feet.

Fluttershy had been numbed to the sounds of explosions and battle by now. But one particular blast and flash of rainbow light made her turn her gaze to Twilight’s Castle of Harmony.

Or at least, what used to be it.

She saw branches and pieces of the trunk shatter and fly outwards. Where the crystal tree used to be, now there was a column of white-blue flame billowing outward and consuming the tree. A tower on the back end fell off entirely.

“No,” she whispered with horror anew. The rest of the girls saw it too, and they too made shocked and grieving sounds, then fell silent. The Castle of Friendship remained as a stump filled with mesmerizing, twisting blue fire.

Finally, Applejack stirred and got to her knees, hissing in pain as she moved her hips. “Shy!” she moaned, then panted. “Yer the only one… who can fly righ’ now. Get to Canterlot an’ find Twilight. Now!”

Fluttershy turned to her injured friends, fear and uncertainty etched deep in her face. “But…”

“Ah'll patch ‘em up. Go!”

Fluttershy whimpered in fright. But she took to the air, squinted through the smoke to the northeast, and took off for Canterlot.