Rise of Tyrus

Looking back, Tyrus should have given more careful consideration to his plan.

Eventually, this train of thought took shape in his mind. Riding on the back of this beast didn't seem like the best or most strategic plan, but his gut feeling said otherwise. Now he found himself with a massive bird, slowly flying over unknown waters that were infested with menacing creatures. Oh, how Tyrus hated his plans sometimes.

Need to give it my all and focus... If I release augmentation now, the bird will notice and shake me off.

Sadly, the problem was that he had just replenished a small amount of his stamina and mana. Contrary to elemental magic, augmentation had a different nature. Remarkably, it was the one specialty that didn't drain him excessively unless he deliberately decided so. He saw it as a leaking basket. With each new hole in the basket, the stream grew higher and higher. Luckily, it was not worse than water flowing through wood crevices.

Circumstances prevented him from filling that gap, which was unfortunate. Not until he was confident in his safety would he disable his magic, something he was dearly missing at the moment. Tyrus just wished he had been a little smarter with the whole... latching onto the bird’s leg thing.

“It’s just you and me now,” Tyrus mumbled.

Seconds ticked by, and the colder his face grew. The cool air chilled his hot cheeks as they flew peacefully above the water. Tyrus couldn’t help but shiver at its bitter embrace. The enchanted coat reverted to its shorter form, leaving him with tattered trousers and a shirt. Such inefficient garments felt like he was marching around with his bare bum.

Far below him were countless undulating gray waves and thickening fog. Patches of land, or at least shapes that reminded him of land, could occasionally be seen. Most of them were barren, rocky mounds where few plants lived. His eyes had adjusted well enough to notice some crocodiles relaxed on the rocky mounds, presumably napping in the moist air. Nothing stopped the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks and the wind’s loud cry. Not even Tyrus.

Despite his unease and his situation with the big bird, Tyrus actually had a surprisingly relaxing time. There were no beasts out to kill him and he was not constantly running from danger, watching every corner, waiting for the enemy to pounce and sink their teeth into him. No... He just flew on a giant bird. Until now, his life had been disorderly, and he only experienced occasional moments of calm.

Oops, my mind wandered again. Need to stay focused. My mana reservoir is sufficient for one Dual Shot. Better stick with silent casting to limit the output.

Pain lingered in his head and legs, but he was fine for the most part. Nothing more than a dull ache that came and went periodically. Pain was something he had grown accustomed to. That didn’t mean he wanted to experience it.

From above, there wasn’t much to see other than the water and patches of land. So, with nothing better to do at the moment, Tyrus activated mana sense and looked around. Not to his surprise, the air was chaotic. It had a weaker nature than his previous encounter, however. Countless black specks bounced around from place to place, either creating its own path or becoming turbulent against the white specks.

When he angled his head to the right, the air in his lungs nearly fell out. A torrent of corrupted mana jutted out into the distance. From what little Tyrus could see, it coagulated together, and when it didn’t break apart, it traveled. Along the path, it grabbed whatever black speck was in its way and added them to its body, growing stronger and more plentiful than the pure mana.

Where it came from, it was hard to determine because of the fog, but the general terrain was discernible. Alongside a long bridge, a huge statue kind of shaped like a raindrop stood in the middle of grimy water. Small boats as plentiful as bread in a bakery occupied the surrounding surface, their hasty movements further stirred the murky waters and disturbed the foul smell in the air.

Almost blending in with the scenery and dwarfing the statue was a sickly tree. Its branches were barren and the trunk itself seemed more dead than alive. Piles upon piles of decayed plantlife and dead carcasses surrounded its base. The place didn’t look too good at all. Tyrus also could’ve sworn a jagged line at the base quivered, but he thought the shifting fog was playing tricks on his eyes.

That has to be the source of corruption! And there’s so much of it too... Getting close really is a bad idea. Looks like I was right and Igneal is the crazy one for even suggesting it.

Though he was still a way away from the origin, his skin crawled in protest as the corrupt aura intensified by the second. To him, it looked as if a colony of ants were charging forward on a mindless mission.

The real question was just how anyone could survive in such harsh conditions. Tyrus failed to see how the masked man could resist, let alone control the corrupted mana. Their mana heart would surely have been corrupted a long time ago. Hopefully their hearts had exploded, and no one had to deal with the dark sorcerer. One thing he knew was that he never stepping foot into that place.

“Please don’t get any closer to the corrupted mana,” Tyrus said absent-mindedly.

Out of nowhere, the creature’s body twitched. Tyrus quickly glanced at it and heard it emit a shriek before darting ahead. With each new spin, Tyrus squeezed his fists harder and felt his throat become increasingly raw.

The creature began flying in circles as it tilted its wings left and right, slowing its flight. Then, it spun in half of a circle and continued its flight as if nothing happened. It made no more attempts to shake him off or even peck his brain out. The wheels in his head turned.

It’s retracing its steps? And it happened so quick and weird too. Right after I said to stay away from the corrupted mana.

Warmth was slowly returning to his face as they got further away from the corrupted mana. That wasn’t the thing currently disturbing him, however. The beast definitely heard and understood his intentions. To prove that he was right, some further testing would be needed.

“...If you can hear me, get closer to the water!”

Another shriek later, the beast tilted its wings up and was soon lowering itself dangerously close to the gray waters below. As Tyrus had expected, it swerved to avoid rocks and any other obstacle in its path. Soon enough, they were cruising on the waters, creating ripples as it hovered.

Okay, this is weird, Tyrus thought. For whatever reason, this creature could understand his speech to a degree. Right now, Tyrus honestly didn’t know whether to be afraid or relieved. What was so different from the two beasts he met than the rest? Swamp imps, rock spiders, and goblins tried to kill at first glance. Yet the gorilla and bird ignored him entirely, targeting lizardmen and Wyford. Actually, they ignored Igneal as well.

Off the top of his head, all he knew was that these particular beasts display little hostility to him and differed from regular beasts. Additionally, whenever he first laid his eyes on them, a weird feeling eclipsed his heart. Almost like an invisible hand was squeezing it.

The longer his mind wandered, the more Tyrus felt the urge to poke the bear. Curiosity was driving him crazy, and Tyrus only learned a few things from his life. First, to always ponder your decisions thoroughly because a well thought out plan could save him many times over, and to always be wary of his surroundings.

As his thoughts consumed him, Tyrus hadn’t realized that the beast had already reached the shore. They passed by a group of goblins amid a battle with some swamp imps, both sides snarling and slashing at each other’s throats.

Nearby the combatants were a familiar set of beasts with swamp-drenched fur and long limbs in the middle of a chase. Their legs moved in a blur, as if the wind itself aided them in their hunt while their coats flowed gracefully. What they were chasing was a stray swine that bobbed and weaved through overgrown roots and tall grass.

It didn’t take long for the swine to slip and crash headfirst into a large rock. The pursuers immediately caught up and shredded the swine into tiny pieces within seconds. More beasts soon descended upon the carcass. Had the Wasteful Wetlands always been this chaotic? Must be because of the corrupted mana, no doubt.

Aside from the grueling display, Tyrus quickly recognized where he was. They had arrived at the spot where the beast had dropped Wyford; he was positive. Further down was the path he and Mitha took to escape from. The creature was definitely returning to its hunting grounds. If the others were still there, would the beast attack them on sight, or would it hold back if ordered not to? So far it had been following along his words.

Wouldn’t hurt to try, Tyrus thought.

On the verge of testing his assumption, the decrepit home entered his view. He knew it was the same one because of the many holes, especially the gaping hole in its walls and roof. He half expected the others to be hiding inside, or at least vacated as quickly as possible. But as fate would have it, neither came true. What occupied the building instead, entering and leaving like children who had just lost their parents, were the lizardmen.

“Great,” Tyrus hissed. “Of course they’re here. The fighting probably attracted them.”

Were Igneal and the others caught by them? It hadn’t been long since he and the bird beast flew away. Or at least he thought so. For all he knew, time had been tedious as they glided through the sky. So far, he had spotted no red hair, or a human, for that matter. Just a bunch of beasts ransacking and searching the building as they spoke an unfamiliar language to each other. Bone helmet or the one with the feathered garb was nowhere to be seen. Must be a scouting party or something similar.

A lizardmen who stepped out from the hole looked up and pointed at the sky, shouting, attracting two more to stare in his direction. Two raised their spears as their forked tongues hissed and their eyes drenched with malicious intent. One of them raised their spear and chucked it straight at Tyrus.

“D-Dodge it!”

Within seconds, it turned its body to the side and swooped sharply to the left. The spear glided by, almost grazing the beast’s right wing. The commotion alerted even more lizardmen, forcing the rest to leave the decrepit home and join the crowd below. All were armed and readied their weapons at the beast, either throwing them or raising them high, waiting for the perfect moment to release.

Shrill cries filled the air as it angled its wings down. As Tyrus’s body flattened against its feathers, he readied his knees. A wave of nausea swept over him as his heart thumped. Whether it was from reckless flying or his dwindling reservoir from maintaining augmentation was irrelevant after what happened next.

“That was way too close... I need to get out of here! Er, bird beast, take us somewhere—”

From beyond the trees and boulders leading toward the line of trees, Tyrus glimpsed a green beam flashing out from below the shadows of overgrown grass. Something swooshed right by the bird’s feathery legs. It narrowly avoided a potentially deadly blow just in time. It was lucky that the blast didn’t singe its body.

Yet, their luck had its limits.

Something pinged off the bird’s belly, another green blast from the same area. Its body became rigid as it squealed in pain. In a moment of panic, its body lost all sense of balance as it plunged straight into the earth. The impact threw Tyrus off into the tangled branches of twisted trees. As his body tore through the branches, he clamped his jaw shut and kept his eyes squeezed. A white-hot sting raced across his entire being.

He crashed into an abandoned wagon, knocking the air out of his lungs. Time seemed to stand still for hours. Finally, he dared open his eyes, lifting his hazy gaze upward, thinking he was lucky to be alive, only to regret being alive. Tyrus groaned as he struggled to rise from the mess of splintered wood and metal.

“Ugh... My back...”

It took Tyrus a good few seconds to climb over the wagon. Most of his weight shifted to his left as he tumbled out like a drunkard, not before stumbling over a boulder-sized bump protruding from the grass and wincing on his side. Eventually, after picking himself up from the filthy grass, he searched for any injuries.

Thankfully, augmentation prevented the branches from penetrating his skin or sustaining any serious injuries. That wouldn’t prevent him from dealing with aching muscles for the next few days, however. Getting tossed around for hours on end wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time.

His mouth tasted like iron seasoned with mud and his face was still cold to the touch, not including the burning bruises. Mana reservoir was reaching dangerous levels as well, given how his heart was beating faster than a drum. Aside from that, his clothes and head were fine. He needed to find a safe place to hide, fast.

Tyrus, while taking in deep breaths, scanned around. There were no signs of a hiding place, like a hole or hollow tree, for him to find refuge. The lizardmen were nowhere to be seen as well, especially the one responsible for bringing him down. The bird beast's whereabouts were unknown, too. Hopefully, it escaped with no harm...

Wait, what’s the matter with me? The bird beast was the reason we’re separated and running again...

His head throbbed as he pushed aside the useless thoughts and moved. Not wanting to risk confronting the lizardmen upfront, he moved towards a corner formed by the intersecting of two fallen trees and a boulder larger than him. Slowly, he pressed his back against the surface and lowered himself. It wasn’t much cover, but it was the best he could find.

Not even a minute later did the wet slaps of hurried feet come to a halt nearby. From the corner of his vision, a reptilian head poked from behind a large rock across from him, a snout sniffing the air. As if satisfied, the lizardmen stepped out from his position, and behind him came seven more. The lizardmen with the feathered garb were amongst them. They all spotted the broken wagon and shambled toward it, inspecting the debris.

“The pochatl is near,” said the short lizardmen, its voice raspy.

“Your orders, Shaman?” asked another.

“To start, we eradicate that detestable bird. It shouldn’t have gotten far after taking a hit from my energy beam. Examine all potential cracks and holes where it could have hidden itself. In the meantime, scan the area for the pochatl. The Beastfolk’s stench is as potent as their stupidity.”

“Yes, Shaman! May nature’s embrace protect you!”

Without delay, the lizardmen separated and ventured their own ways, disappearing into the foliage. The one named Shaman stopped, the bones clattering as it moved around in circles. Grooves in the wet dirt formed as its tail trudged along, twitching right and left. Once again, it jabbed its head up and down, nostrils expanding and receding. It glanced in Tyrus’s direction for a fraction of a second.

Tyrus’ heart leaped into his throat as he dared not breathe. He retreated further behind the corner until he could retreat no more. Like a lump in his throat, he wanted to swallow so badly. Minutes passed by before the Shaman turned and follow its brethren. Tyrus waited another minute, half expecting them to return until he realized he needed air.

“Haah!”

Forced to gulp down another gasp of putrid air, Tyrus couldn’t get enough oxygen to satiate his boiling blood, spiking like a fire poker. Once he calmed down, his breathing returned to a steady rhythm, and he slowly crawled out of his hiding place.

“T-That was too close! I thought I was found it when it looked over here, but that does not seem to be the case.”

Not wanting to stay and find out if they’d return, Tyrus rose and sprinted in the direction opposite of where they went. He had no concrete plans for where he was going. Nothing seemed recognizable to him, and the whereabouts of the others were unknown. All he knew was that he was closer to escaping and to lessen the chances of encountering those lizardmen, especially the Shaman.

That lizardmen particularly was bad news.

It was only for a moment, but that blast it emitted was strong. Way stronger than his Dual Shot spell, and possessed more mana than he had ever accumulated. He didn’t think anyone except for Selena and maybe Fiona should be capable of attacking like that. What surprised him the most was that they attacked the creature mid-air with pinpoint accuracy. If that blast had connected to Tyrus instead, he wasn’t sure if he would still be alive. No, he definitely would’ve died on the spot.

Tyrus ran for as long as he could, watching and listening for his enemies. Sword in hand, he stepped over snapped roots and leaped over overgrown grass to secure a simple escape. His body, fresh with new wounds, stung like hot-iron searing his flesh and limbs, forcing him to stagger momentarily. Even if augmentation covered him completely, fatigue would consume his being eventually, and the longer he kept it running, the faster his body would reach its breaking point. It was a miracle he was still standing. Why was that? Was it sheer will, or something else?

Huffing loudly, Tyrus spotted a crowd of swamp imps hovering over a boulder. Whatever they were looking at captured most of their attention as they completely disregarded Tyrus. And like flies crowded over a pile of dung, they spun around, as if conducting a ritual. Tyrus suspected whatever lay beyond that rock shouldn’t interest him. That was until he heard the rustling of feathers and a faint screech. Then the powerful scent of blood and musk wrestled his attention.

“Could it be?”

He inched closer to a tree, concealing his body as best as he could. Creeping forward slowly, he crept close to the boulder, the swamp imps oblivious to his presence. Tyrus counted five, each one licking their lips in anticipation.

Tyrus stuck fast, stabbing the back of the nearest swamp imp. Its body went limp before it even knew what happened. Its friends shrieked as two more suffered the same fate in quick succession. When the others bolted to see what had happened, Tyrus slashed horizontally with the sword, decapitating one of them with the blade. The last one snarled and was already within striking range, bearing its bare, drooling fangs.

Tyrus was on the verge of killing it too until a beak appeared from behind the boulder. It clamped onto the imp’s stomach and bit down. More blood filled the air as the imp writhed before going motionless, leaving Tyrus and the bird beast’s faces side-by-side. The creature tossed aside the morsel and spat blood.

Still on guard, Tyrus backed away slowly, sword raised. While the beast has ignored him before, it might hold a grudge because of its current state. Tyrus was partly the reason it got hit with that powerful display of magic. But as far as his eyes could see, neither hatred nor contempt were obvious.

Its head wasn’t the only part injured, so were its wings and legs. So much crimson lathered its raven feathers one would think its original color was red. Its wings, folded to the side, were infested with leaves and pebbles. A gaping hole across its belly leaked profusely; Tyrus spotted a few entrails bursting out like worms in a corpse. A stream of grief struck him.

Looking at its sorry state, he couldn’t just leave it be. Sure it tried to kill the others many times, but somehow, someway, Tyrus felt a connection with the beast—like their fates intertwined in more ways than one. Maybe he was overthinking it. After all, it was just a beast, and there would be many more like it in the future.

Would Healing Touch even work in this situation? The wound looks fatal...

“...Leave me, oh kin of storms.”

Tyrus froze. “You can speak? But how—”

His tongue clammed up once he looked at the bird’s eyes; the shadows that cloaked them were gone. What replaced them were pupils still black, but with life and emotion this time. His skin no longer crawled when he stared.

“I have little time,” it said in barely a whisper. Blood spewed as if trying to claw its way out of its lungs. “Heed the disciples of darkness that bends the wills of others. Only their deaths will liberate our...people. May Murus save us all.”

The creature’s eyes rolled, and its wings relaxed. It took one last breath before it lie still in a puddle of mixed blood. Exceedingly pale, its final words repeating themselves in Tyrus’s head.

“Our people,” he repeated. “It said our people. There’s no mistaking it. The fact that it could talk as a beast means it is, or was, a Beastfolk. It also knew who and what I was, and my element when I never used it in front of it. Heed the disciples of darkness that bends the wills of others...”

Tyrus kneeled in silence, his hands drawn to his chest as if praying. A bitter feeling lingered in his chest as he stood up. Now was not the time to feel sorry for the Beastfolk. As tragic as their death may have been, he didn’t like the sound of its ominous warning. Disciples of darkness obviously referred to the dark sorcerer responsible, but it sounded as if there were many more. What worried him more was the last part. Bending the wills of others mean’s controlling them, doesn’t it?

“...I’ll think about this later. Need to get out of here quickly and find the others.”

Sword in hand, he took one last glance at the corpse. “So that’s what they look like. The gorilla beast must be one as well...”

As he contemplated, a fresh breeze washed over him. As he took a deep breath, the unmistakable scent of fire and smoke filled his nostrils. He didn’t think twice before running.