Calculated bloodlust engineered a hundred-thousand years bygone ate Krota's mind, and as the axe trembled in his singlehanded grip, so came the sparks that cracked across the peaks and valleys of his brawn.
Krota shook with the stolen might, a wicked smile upon him as he once more realized he was but a thief, a human consciousness within the mortal body of a manufactured god, dead long since...but "dead gods still dream." 
Static flew from the grizzled axe man, sizzled the air--and detonated all at once as a flash of white heat that clothed his bulk and vanished. Rock, metal and earth shaken free by the blast that neared him ignited like stricken matchsticks, blown to ashes in an instant.
Krota tightened his grip upon The Tooth of Kali as he imbued it with his stolen flame, a willing marionette bound by divine invisible strings, forever timeless. The axe head instantly flew skyward in a flourish, flashed down as a brutal diagonal slash.
The Tooth crushed the atmosphere before him into submission, detonated it--propelled forth sun-fueled plasma in a slicing arc that raced toward the crimson swordsman with blinding speed, drew forth a terrible vacuum in its wake.
Fire Magicka: Exuro Incendia.