Rise of Tyrus

At the edge of the bridge, Igneal scowled while it swayed uncontrollably.

“Tch. Someone beat me to the punch. I know it’s not Aunt Selena fighting the dark sorcerer. She would’ve finished the battle sooner, and so would Zephyr. So that leaves Sir Geroth...”

Igneal's understanding of Sir Geroth was minimal, with the only known fact being his role as a royal knight of Lethos. A man who faithfully dedicated their service to Emperor Johan, the present occupant of the Imperial Throne. As per the accounts given by his educators, royal knights were regarded as individuals who could be relied upon to carry out their duties flawlessly. Those duties mainly consist of two things: guarding the imperial family and engaging in missions from orders by the head knight. Only the best of the best reached such status, not only required to hold expertise in combat and proficient knowledge of Lethos law, but also have suitable talents.

“Hmph. Apart from Father, she alone possesses the standing to obtain Sir Geroth's support. As expected, of my aunt. I suppose I can allow him to fight my prey. All I want is the artifact, anyway. By delivering it directly to Emperor Johan, I expect earning a measure of his favor.”

To secure the favor of Emperor Johan or a member of the imperial family would be highly advantageous in his pursuit of becoming the head of the family. While his siblings hurry to establish connections with nobles and gain their admiration, Igneal aspired for loftier goals. The respect and recognition from an emperor was worth more than any friendship with common nobility.

Provided that he exercises prudence in his actions, Emperor Johan would undoubtedly support him during the succession of a new family head. Undoubtedly, offering him the artifact would serve as the inaugural phase of a challenging expedition. After that, he needed an opportunity to showcase his strength and political skills. Slowly, he would gain friends and allies of influence—scouts, members of the imperial family, and those who had the potential to be outstanding in the future.

Igneal had already come across someone who fit that criteria. Not much younger than him, there was a boy who had already become a sorcerer; he was a Multi-Specialist with a lightning affinity. Already he could cast magic through the use of silent casting and knew how to utilize augmentation well. Even better was that he had little qualms about disposing of those seeking death. They had already killed a good number of beasts and even snuffed the life of an adult man, albeit with a little help.

Few had the willpower to do such things. The fact that someone of his age executed the act suggests their capability to accomplish what was needed. Most children would’ve cried, urinate in their trousers, or cower in fear in front of evil men. While the commoner looked weak and timid when he first met him, there was no mistaking the determination and the attitude in his eyes. That look spoke volumes, telling him there was more than what meets the eye. That and the family head had shown interest in him.

The commoner—no, Tyrus—was worthy enough to become his friend. It was a shame he wasn’t nobility. He lacked the etiquette and sense of sophistication, like some child who walked into a banquet wearing a potato sack. But that wouldn’t stop him from wanting the boy by his side. At least with him there, Igneal could survey his progression close by. Perhaps he should appoint him as his own personal servant?

Igneal shook his head. “No, that won’t do. Working under me would be a terrible decision; he strives for something more. Like with everything else, the best course of action would be to wait. I have all the time in the world, after all. No need to rush things. I have a hunch we’ll make a magnificent pair. Wouldn’t you think so, lizardman?”

Igneal turned toward the four charred bodies blocking the path. Surprisingly, one of them still had some breath in them despite their conditions. Not that the fact was concerning. Beasts like them were the dregs of civilization, trash that no doubt needed to disappear for the sake of the planet.

Ah, but if beasts disappeared, then how would he have his fun?

The one still alive stirred, reminding Igneal of a clump of meat left too long over a fire. These things were quite resilient, despite them being extremely weak to fire. He should make a mental note to increase his magic power output next time.

“You…will not...leave this place...alive,” the beast croaked.

Igneal raised a brow. “That’s rich coming from a half-dead beast. I’m surprised you even have the strength to talk. You should at least die with your pride in check.”

It tried to rise, fishing around for the fallen spear to its left. The sight was so pathetic that Igneal sighed and strolled toward the fallen. Unsheathing his sword, he stood over the groaning creature and thrust downward, penetrating its soft head. The lizardmen flopped to the floor as Igneal removed his weapon. With one swing, he shook off the red ooze splattered on his blade.

“This won’t do. Father would’ve killed them with one blow. I’ll have to adjust my strength and do better next time.”

Igneal eyed the bridge carefully. As far as he could see, the structure extended toward jagged land filled with towering rocks. To his left and right was nothing but shifting water, with scattered boulders poking out of the surface. At times like these, Igneal wished he could fly, but that required some sort of magical item or being skilled with the air element. Training could remedy that, but why should he spend precious time on air, of all things? That was beneath him. His ancestors would curse his life for straying away from focusing on his fire affinity.

But of course, his fire magic should continue to progress. To improve was ingrained in his everyday life, from birth to the present. From the moment he could stand, he held a sword, and when he could walk, he sparred with a wooden sword. His first time channeling magic had to do with constant usage of it at the age of eleven. That was when most sorcerers would start their magical training to access their mana and channeling it appropriately. Improving his swordsmanship and magic was vital if he were to take on the mantle.

Igneal stared at his hands, slight cuts decorating his palms and fingers. Each one he could retell clearly; remembering the fights that took place and what led to them. Like the day he accidentally cut himself with a real sword, right near his knuckle. Another near his middle finger, stemming from when he got distracted during a spar and almost lost. There were also ones deep within his palms. Mostly scratches that resulted in gripping the sword and applying a lot of force and power. While unsightly, it reminds him of what he was trying to accomplish: how much he was willing to sacrifice. They also served as a physical reminder of how hard he had to train to inherit the family head title.

“I’ll be the one who leads the family,” Igneal mumbled. “It belongs to me, not them.”

He moved forward and tapped his foot against the worn-down wood. While it shook, it still held the integrity to function. Igneal pursed his lips, checking back down toward the path. There didn’t seem to be any way forward other than taking the bridge. No boat to ferry across or a flying beast to take him to the opposite side.

Just thinking about falling into disgusting waters again left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. Getting mud on him was mortifying enough. Even with nothing irritating his nostrils, he could smell and taste that dirty mixture of rotting plants and earth. If nothing better crossed his way, then he may have to play with the thought of washing it out with water.

“Sacrifices, sacrifices,” Igneal lamented.

When Igneal was about to take the first step forward, he heard ruffling behind him. A quick glance told him the cause; It was Tyrus, looking around from behind a tree until they locked eyes.

“And here comes the culprit,” Igneal murmured. He waited while Tyrus approached him.

One quick glance at the boy told him he gained fresh wounds among the old. More cuts decorated his face and torso, and his garments shredded as if a pack of wolves attacked him mercilessly. The magical item he wore around him shrunk to a measly scarf. Whenever a breeze passed by, his ears would twitch and his face remained as gloomy as ever.

“Ah, you’re finally here,” Igneal said, as if he was simply talking to an acquaintance he met at an event. “I was wondering how long it’d take you to reach this place.”

Tyrus stopped near the bride, side-by-side of Igneal. “Do you feel that magical energy? An overseer is finally doing their job. We don’t have to walk in there, you know?”

A flash of white light in the distance sliced through the thick fog. The intensity even brightened the whole area briefly before disappearing the next second. Whatever was going on must be intense. Was the foe giving Sir Geroth that hard of a time? Igneal found it hard to believe that a royal knight would lose in an unsightly fashion.

“If you’re talking about the dark sorcerer, I’m not worried about him anymore,” Igneal stated. “All I want is the artifact.”

Tyrus tilted his head. “The artifact? Why do you need an artifact that spews out poison?”

“You wouldn’t understand even if I told you. Instead, let me propose this: We seize the artifact while Sir Geroth is busy with the dark sorcerer. He’ll make quick work of him, and we’ll be in and out without a hassle. And then we can follow along with your plan on camping out until time runs out.”

“...I see that Mitha and Wyford aren’t with you,” Tyrus said with a sour expression. “Where were you when we were battling with the bird beast?”

Igneal glared at Tyrus. “I don’t like what you’re implying. If you believe that I fled like a coward or abandoned you to face the battle alone, then you truly have a diminished opinion of me. Given the chaos caused by that creature, inevitably, the lizardmen would encircle the shack, leaving us trapped inside. So to prevent us from being overrun, I led a scouting party far from you, as you can see.”

Igneal waved at the pile of corpses. “You should be thanking me for buying you time to escape. Knowing you, you wouldn’t have died or else I wouldn’t be talking to you right now. Obviously, the other two aren’t as capable as you, but if they made it this far, then they should be alive. Somewhere.”

“Yeah, the lizardmen took it over. Fortunately, I didn’t see Mitha or Wyford lying around dead or captured, so I think they got away in time.”

“Then it worked out in the end,” Igneal beamed. “See? It was fortunate that I thought ahead.”

Tyrus grimaced and looked the direction of the bridge. “About your plan... Are you sure it’ll work? There are a lot of problems with it. What about protection against corrupted mana or the dark sorcerer targeting us instead?”

“Oh, that? Manipulate your flow of mana and prevent the corrupted mana from entering your channels, like how a farmer tosses out the rotten apples from the good. Currently, you're doing it without even realizing it because your body instinctively knows what is beneficial or harmful to you. However, if you're approaching a significant source of corrupted mana, it demands your full concentration. This is a technique that is often employed in such circumstances, although it can be difficult to accomplish. Well, that doesn’t apply to the son of Family Head Lockhart.”

“So what you’re saying is to create a mana shield all around me?” Tyrus said firmly.

“That is not what I said at al—”

In a few blinks, a white aura surrounded his body, slithering across until it spread like a new skin. Igneal rubbed his chin, watching as the light took hold. “Right, you’re an Augmentation Sorcerer as well. You can protect your entire body with mana, effectively serving as a shield.”

Although it should be positive, Igneal didn't appreciate how effortlessly he was able to achieve it. He believed that only the more experienced sorcerers could accomplish that, and not someone as young as him, especially if they hadn't been a sorcerer for very long. In fact, it applied to his other speciality as well. Learning how to cast magic without the use of incantations already meant that Tyrus was a prodigy, just like he was. Being able to use Augmentation magic well at the age of nine—for him to learn silent casting in a few weeks, and yet be on the same footing...

No, that’s ridiculous, Igneal thought with a scoff. He was far superior to him. His magic lacked stability and his swordsmanship was sloppy. A commoner is still a commoner that lacked resources. Still, Tyrus was talented, that much he could tell. He’d be a fool to disregard that aspect.

Igneal shrugged. “Well, you learn something new each day. Since you can do so, then we need not worry about a thing. Come, let’s go.”

He was about to take another step until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Annoyed, Igneal shrugged it off and turned.

“You still haven’t answered my other question,” Tyrus demanded. “What about the dark sorcerer?”

Igneal rolled his eyes. “Sir Geroth is keeping him busy. He’s a royal knight, a warrior strong enough to protect His Majesty. It seems unlikely that the dark sorcerer will find a chance to attack us when Sir Geroth is right there, but I'm unsure why he is taking such a long time to finish the job.”

“I... still think we should wait until it’s finally over. Once he’s finished with the fight, then we can go on over and take the artifact.”

“All I hear coming out of your mouth is that you’re too scared to act” Igneal raised a brow. “You were plenty accepting of my plan earlier.”

Tyrus hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, as if he was trying to decide in his head what to say next. Igneal took that chance to continue.

“Either you follow or you wait back there. I don’t care which choice you pick. You will not stop me from continuing. I will do whatever it takes to get my hands on that artifact, and I won't delay any further.”

Without waiting for an answer, Igneal whipped around and took his first step onto the bridge. It creaked instantly, the wood shivering against his soft touch. Right as he was about to apply his entire body weight, Tyrus intervened and held onto his arm.

“Release me this instant or I’ll burn your hand off,” Igneal warned.

“I’m not letting you through,” Tyrus said firmly, strengthening his grip.

Igneal lowered his gaze at the hand. He tried to move, but Tyrus wouldn’t budge. His eyes darkened. “Your actions are highly inappropriate. Had I not been lenient, your hand would have been completely burned off. The other nobles would’ve beaten you senseless or have you imprisoned.”

“Good thing you aren’t like the other nobles, right? If you were, we wouldn’t even be talking right now, let alone friendly. Seriously, what’s wrong with waiting in this situation? The artifact isn’t going anywhere.”

“What I’m worried about is the artifact being destroyed in the scuffle,” Igneal snapped. “The longer we spend in idle chatter, the more likely Sir Geroth will destroy it. Retrieving the artifact in good condition and offering it to the Keeper of Relics will give my name much credibility, thus contributing to the family head position. If there’s ever a time to get the artifact, then it’s now. I will politely ask you this again: release me this instant.”

A tense silence ensued as Tyrus continued holding on, standing tall with a stubborn expression. Igneal reciprocated, staring down at Tyrus in contempt. He despised being told otherwise, especially by others who knew nothing. Those who knew nothing aren’t aware of what was at stake. He would not let anyone get in his way, even if it meant to burn through him. The anger within him burned the longer Tyrus stood before him.

An iota of a thought encompassed his mind, ready to unleash a spark of flames. Though Tyrus had mana protecting himself and was physically stronger, as long as a more power sorcerer used their magic, breaking through defenses was child’s play. If a person’s mana was stronger than the other, then all Igneal had to do was force more mana into Tyrus’ so he couldn’t resist. The outcome was evident.

Before Igneal could finish his thought however, Tyrus’ ears twitched, and his eyes narrowed. Without a second to lose, they both turned and sprinted away from the bridge. It wasn’t a second too late, for a green blast impacted where they stood before. Rolling to their feet, they faced the direction the magic attack came from.

Emerging from the same area Tyrus came from was a lizardmen adorned with a bone helmet. By its side was another, lankier and wearing a feathered hat on its head. Tucking away the staff the lanky lizardman held, the beast licked its mouth, displaying sharp teeth. More lizardmen joined them, each one armed and ready to attack. Igneal took a quick head count and then clicked his tongue.

There were at least twenty of them.