Kael walked up one of the building's staircases up to the third floor, which was full of rubble, broken windows, and torn walls, but it still had enough structure to cover him from sight.
The staircase complained under his weight, gravel shifting, rusted beams groaning softly. He kept his steps tight to the inner edge where the concrete was thicker.
The outside wall was missing in places, exposing the red sky and the distant pillars of flame. He could see the city like a carcass from up here, cracked streets, gutted buildings, moving specks of red and green.
He then peered over one of the broken windows to see the Ifrit hovering in the street, moving rather slowly in fact.
It wasn't running. It wasn't chasing. It was drifting like a king walking through a conquered town, unhurried because nothing could stop it.
The asphalt underneath its floating body changed color to a darker, then redder, then molten form from how slow it moved.
