Rise of Tyrus

Elder Treant sniffed and said, “Corruption lingers around you. Why is that so?”

Tyrus’s smile wavered. “That’s what I came to talk to you about. I’ve been to the Wasteful Wetlands to take a test that was needed to achieve my dreams. During my time there, I met a dark sorcerer responsible for flooding the place with corrupted mana through the use of an artifact. A lot of stuff happened there, Elder Treant.”

Before Elder Treant could ask questions, Tyrus recited his entire experience in great detail. He spoke of the lizardmen hunting Beastfolk, Scourge members and how they were working together with a dark sorcerer. Tyrus even mentioned that the sorcerer transported the Beastfolk to the Wasteful Wetlands for whatever reason, possibly to destroy the lizardmen or distract the overseers. Then, most important of all, how there was another Elder Treant at the source of corruption and how it awoken when Tyrus got rid of the corrupted mana with the help of his own artifact. At the end of his tale, he brought out the artifact and placed it on the grass in front of him.

Elder Treant was silent, merely observing Tyrus with a hardened gaze, sometimes glancing at the artifact. For what felt like hours, they sat there, neither moving an inch. And to break this silence, Elder Treant finally asked a question. “You have brought troubling news, young one. It is distressing to learn that one of Mevena’s sanctuaries has been defiled and tampered with. My heart aches for my brethren. I shall dispatch a messenger to gather additional information and send aid.”

“So you two are related,” Tyrus said. He squinted at Elder Treant. “By the way, I couldn’t really talk to that Elder Treant because I was teleported away, but it seemed rather... unhealthy?”

“Unhealthy?” the treant inquired. “If you are referring to how the Elder Treant of the Wasteful Wetlands has bare branches and a ghastly bark, that is normal. Like how there are different species of trees, so are we. As our names suggest, Elder Treant is but a title. Your appearance is that of a regular human boy if you hide your Beastfolk features, but are you one?”

Tyrus glanced at his tail and pursed his lips. “You have a point. But I can’t help but feel bad, thinking that the Elder Treant is all alone now. I saw a lot of stumps and bones, the ground bare, with no life in sight.“

For the first time, Elder Treant chuckled. “You really are a far cry from your black tiger brethren.”

“Is that a good thing?” Tyrus asked, picking up the orb and rolling it across his hands.

“Black tigers are solitary creatures. Because of that, they possess a philosophy that compliments that nature. Only favoring themselves and that they have only themselves to rely on, believing that is where true strength lies. A murky philosophy that truly encapsulates their culture.”

Tyrus stopped toying with the artifact and looked up. “That... sounds just like me. I was—still am—alone most of the time, and it’s up to me to be the strongest I can. Doesn’t sound like I’m all that different from them.”

“Though you are alike in that aspect, there is one thing that sets you apart from them: compassion. You went through the trouble of assisting Wildwood with its little drake problem. A black tiger would deem it beneath them to even pay that much attention to our plight. It would never occur to a black tiger to be gracious enough to assist another unless something was to be gained.“

“How do you know so much about them?”

“When you live as long as I do, it is only natural to amass a healthy amount of knowledge and information, even among our peers.”

The irony of what he just heard struck Tyrus. One couldn’t exactly get much knowledge and experience without spending a considerable amount of time traveling, something Elder Treant could not do since it was a treant and all that. Wait, now that he thought about it, could Elder Treant even move like the regular treants? What a funny sight that’d be, Tyrus thought.

“Now then,” Elder Treant continued. “About that artifact. You said it absorbed every drop of corrupted mana, correct?”

Tyrus nodded. “One moment I was staring at the artifact spewing corrupted mana, and the next thing I knew, my storage ring felt heavy. Then this orb came out of it without my permission and sped for the other artifact. A blinding light happened; it sucked up the corruption, and after everything was over, went straight back to me.”

“Most peculiar indeed,” Elder Treant hummed. “It sounds to me that the artifact in your hands has chosen you as its wielder.”

“Its wielder?” he repeated. “Artifacts can do that? You make it sound like they can think.”

“Unpredictability is one of the many mysteries surrounding artifacts. Who is to say they don’t have minds of their own? Not even I know much about artifacts. They are products from an era long passed. Products from an era where gods and ancient beasts freely roamed the land.”

“Are you from that era?”

Elder Treant took a moment to answer, instead, peering down with drooped branches to cast its shadow against Tyrus. “I was but a mere sapling after their time, and when Wildwood was a fraction of its size today. Still, I can remember those times as if it were yesterday.”

The treant had a sad, yet fond look across its wooden features. Tyrus’ face contorted the longer he stared, and without realizing it, blurted out what was troubling him.

‘...I killed someone today, Elder Treant. Does that make me a terrible person?"

Silence stretched out between them, quiet enough to hear the gentle trickle of a nearby pond. Crickets and hoppers chirped, and the leaves of nearby plants rustled with a crisp breeze that gently embraced his cheeks and tousled his hair.

“Did you enjoy it?” the treant suddenly asked.

Tyrus frowned. “No, I did not. At first, I felt nothing as I stabbed his heart. I had to do it or else I would’ve died. At least, I think so. But as time went on and I thought about it more, I realized I felt relieved that he was gone for good. That he would no longer hurt others for pleasure and selfish reasons.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Elder Treant said with finality. "If you didn't derive any pleasure from killing the man and did it solely to safeguard yourself, then the weight you bear on your shoulders is akin to the responsibility of a creature fighting for survival. Similar to how a critter protects itself from predators. As long as you harbored no ill intentions in your heart, then you have committed no wrongdoing. Dwelling on remorse and what-ifs yields no good, as it gradually erodes your mental well-being."

Tyrus rubbed the nicks around his face. As the Elder Treant’s words seeped into him, a green light from the treelines to his line zipped toward him. The light stopped right in front of his face; a pinch of mana and sweet wildflowers tickled his nose.

“Hello there, Meadow,” Tyrus said, watching the little fairy hug the bridge of his nose. “Glad to see you’re doing alright after our little adventure.”

Meadow sniffed. “I... I thought you were dead! Minutes after minutes I waited at the cave, yet you never came out. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I went in myself, and you weren’t there! All I could find was a rock spider carcass and a hole.”

Tyrus winced at her cracking voice. “Hey now, come on, don’t cry, I’m—”

“A hole!” the fairy cried, raising a fist and furiously waving it, glowing bright enough that she would’ve caused temporary blindness if Tyrus still had his eyes open. “The Hero of Wildwood, slain because a measly earth spirit was useless at her job!”

“You are not useless,” Tyrus quickly said. He gently raised his hand, allowing the fairy to settle on his palm.“You helped me plenty, you know? Without you, we wouldn’t have defeated that drake causing trouble. And hunting rock spiders to help me train was only possible because of your skills in earth magic. It was my fault I fell into that hole and couldn’t climb back up, not yours.”

She wiped her eyes. “R-really?”

“I mean it. And soon, I’ll be needing your help again for training. We still have unfinished business at the cavern.”

There was a glowing tunnel far beyond that cavern, at the spot where he fought the two rock spiders. The sight was still fresh on his mind—the area glowing with white crystals—how his mouth watered at the prospect of treasure sitting idly by, waiting for a fortunate soul to claim it.

A melodic chuckle emitted from behind them, interrupting their moment. It was Elder Treant, looking a bit amused despite not possessing a mouth. Still, it was pretty easy to discern what it was feeling from tone and eyes alone.

“Is there something the matter?” Tyrus asked.

"Not at all," the treant answered. "I can tell you've cheered up and are quite excited to head back to training. Just remember not to push yourself too hard. From what you've told me, you have gone through a lot. Your body and mind must be fatigued from the constant battles and revelations. There is much to reflect and absorb."

"I am pretty tired," Tyrus said. "It's just... I had to get everything off my chest and tell you. Out of everyone I've met, I feel as if you would understand the most, since you're old and all that. I heard old people always have the answers when you don't have them, or something like that."

Elder Treant chuckled once more. "I will take your words as praise. Now it is time for you to rest. We will talk more about that artifact and the dark sorcerer once you've regained your energy. Believe it or not, but sleeping in this sanctuary promotes relaxation and rejuvenates the body."

Meadow fluttered away from Tyrus' hand and landed on his head. "It's one of the best feelings in the world. It took months for my body to get used to sleeping in this place, but after a while, your body sort of melts into the grass. Not literally, just so you know. But since you aren't built like us, you'll find it harder to get comfortable."

"I'll take your word for it," Tyrus answered. "And yeah, I think a nap would do me good. Is there a place around here that's soft or something? I don't want to wake up all sore and unable to move my neck again."

"I know the perfect place!" Meadow said with a grin. "There's a patch of moss that lesser hounds use from time to time. Come, follow me!"

Like an excited puppy, Meadow took off. Not wanting to lose sight of her, Tyrus rose to his feet, pocketed the artifact in his ring, and chased after the spirit. Hopefully, it was better than sleeping on prickly hay or a bed of flowers.