Rise of Tyrus

Tyrus refused to stand, perfectly content with lying on the ground until the exam was over. Or until a wayward beast strolls by and decides to have him for lunch. Though both outcomes would suck, it was better than getting up right away.

His vision blurred as he blinked. In fact, his eyelids were rather heavy, too. Even when he tried to focus, the ground split into two, each one wavering like a puddle in a rainstorm. Whenever he tried to rise, nausea rose from his stomach like a storm, threatening to empty his insides if he so much as breathed.

Tyrus glanced at his arm. The darn thing was entirely pink while his veins threatened to rip out of his flesh. Not to mention the sounds that annoyed him. Everything buzzed as if thousands of mosquitos surrounded his ears. That wasn't even mentioning the scent of his own flesh, like burning pork. It was hard to tell whether he wanted to pass out or keep fighting.

"...I miss Wildwood," Tyrus murmured.

He missed his training sessions with Meadow and his chats with Elder Treant at the end. He also missed the rich mana that saturated the sanctuary. Mana so natural that it felt as if a simple touch of the grass would heal him entirely. Even something as simple as sleeping outside on the hard ground and waking up with aches all over was much better than here. Dare he say he also missed the rock spiders...

Eyes half-closed, he stared into the fog-dominated skies, reminiscing about Wildwood. And out of nowhere, the face of Fiona flashed in his mind. Tyrus' eyes flung open and he sent a quick smack to his cheek.

"What's the matter with you?" he scolded. "Get it together, Tyrus. Stand up."

His limbs tingled when he attempted to raise his body. Without his sword—that he now regretted throwing—getting up was a pain. Either way, it took him about a minute to get on his knees. The world spun even faster, so he took a quick break and took a few deep breaths to calm his speedy heart and his churning stomach. Then, in a moment of pure willpower, Tyrus crawled to the nearest large rock where he could lean his back against it.

A chorus of screeches caused him to turn, only to see bright orange lights streak across the sky. The scent of smoke rolled in before he could think about what caused the light show. Each few seconds that passed, another wave of smoke hit him, and the dancing lights that floated into the skies grew brighter and brighter. Only one person came to mind that could be the cause.

"That's got to be Igneal."

That screech he heard must have been the lizardmen. Tyrus recognized their water-logged throats anywhere. Since he fought the Shaman, Igneal was probably battling the lizardmen, and with them should be their leader, meaning Igneal was at a disadvantage in terms of numbers. Though he could probably deal with them on his own because of his affinity with fire, there was nothing wrong in lending him a helping hand. Better to fight with another than alone. They were in this together at this point.

Using the rock as support, Tyrus pressed his foot against it and slowly pushed himself off the ground. As much as his body begged him not to, Tyrus was stubborn and did anyway, despite how his muscles squirmed with every movement. That clash really took a toll on his body. His mana heart was back to scraps for mana and he felt like throwing up. Still, he had to go help Igneal.

Tyrus took one step forward and waited for his vision to steel itself. Then he took another, and another, until he was moving at a steady pace. With the rock beside him, he continued his walk, and the screeches and sounds of battle became louder and louder.

Nearby, he spotted the body of the Shaman slouched on a rock. The garb it wore on its head was aflame while its staff was split in two. A stream of blood flowed down one of its arms, pummeling the ground like raindrops. Tyrus was afraid that he actually killed the lizardman, but noticed that its chest was moving. That was a relief. If anything, it was a good thing that it was still alive, meaning Tyrus wouldn't need to feel guilty when this was over. Maybe it snapped out of the dark sorcerer's mind control now that it sustained enough damage. That happened with the bird beast, but it could've been an entirely different reason.

Resting on a puddle of blood was the amber-colored rock the lizardman carried. Tyrus bent down and picked it up, inspecting it carefully. Its surface was smooth, and it had a unique sheen to it that reflected the little sunlight shining through the fog. In it, he could feel a weird energy flowing through its core. It definitely wasn't mana because his mana sense wasn't picking up anything, so what could it be?

Tyrus shook his head and stuffed the rock into his ring. He'd think about it later when his brain was about to burst. For now, his focus should be on helping Igneal and making sure he was okay.

The closer he approached, the more potent the smell of burnt flesh became. Tyrus covered his nose as he neared a large boulder, where the sounds were the loudest. As soon as he made his way around it, a wave of heat rushed over him. Tyrus recoiled from the intensity and stumbled backwards.

Before him was a field of charred lizard bodies, littered all over. Their corpses covered every inch of the ground, leaving nothing visible underneath; surrounding them were flames that formed a square. In the middle of it was Igneal, his breathing erratic as his chest heaved up and down. When Igneal heard Tyrus's footsteps, he looked in his direction.

Igneal's face was haggard, as if he was a mere hour away from collapsing. Sweat trickled down the sides of his cheeks, mixing with the soot and mud caked onto his skin. The clothes he wore were torn and scorched, leaving a few nicks and cuts all over. Despite his condition, Igneal wiped off a smidge of blood on his cheek and smiled.

"Good, you're still alive. You know, I didn't expect those things to fight so hard. Even confronted with their weakness, they still refused to back down. I was almost impressed, but then I remembered that these are just beasts."

Tyrus remained silent and scanned the area. There had to be about twelve lizardmen corpses surrounding him, maybe more. Their bodies were blackened and almost unrecognizable, but Tyrus could hear their faint breaths.

"Don't worry. They're still alive, or at least what's left of them." Igneal gestured at the charred bodies with a wave. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to hold back? I had to find the perfect balance between not killing them and causing a large amount of damage to incapacitate them. These wounds I've received are because of you, just to let you know."

Tyrus's eyes narrowed, and his hand turned into a fist. Why was he laughing? Did inflicting pain amuse him? There was nothing to smile about all of this. All they did was defeat those not in control of their actions. It was especially bad if they woke up and found out Igneal handled all of this damage. They would get angry, rightfully so, and express their anger toward them. And just when they were on the verge of reaching an understanding...

But as Tyrus thought about it more, staring at the cuts on Igneal's body and the unfortunate lizardmen, Tyrus unclenched his hand and sighed. He had no right to feel angry. It was him or them. This much force was necessary or else they would've sustained serious injuries and failed the exam. Asking Igneal to keep them alive was a foolish request, and Tyrus didn't have the right to complain. At least he left them alive and not outright killed them.

Tyrus hobbled over to Igneal and said, "I've already dealt with the Shaman. It shouldn't bother us for a while. Don't know about the leader, though."

"Don't worry about that weakling. It couldn't stand a chance against my flames. He's right over there as we speak."

Igneal gestured towards a figure lying sprawled out not too far away, mirroring the same condition as its comrades. A dark ring encircled its body, and Tyrus even noticed a hole in its shoulder. Tyrus guessed Igneal had tackled the leader initially before engaging in battle with the rest.

"Although I would love to share the tale of how I triumphed over these creatures, it's time to take action," Igneal remarked, refocusing on the bridge. "We can't just wait around here for those things to recover and attack us again, especially since the exam is still ongoing. It's high time we seize the artifact, without any further interruptions. The longer we remain here, the more likely it is for the corrupted mana to infiltrate our bodies."

Tyrus lacked the energy to engage in an argument, so he simply nodded in agreement. After all, Igneal was correct. There were more pressing matters that required their attention. Above all else, reaching Sir Geroth, assuming he was still present, took precedence. It struck him as strange that the overseer had not come to their aid or even observed their battle, considering his close proximity. This indicated that he was either occupied with the artifact, elsewhere, or worse, deceased. Tyrus desperately hoped that the latter two possibilities were not the reality.

With their destination in sight, Tyrus and Igneal cautiously made their way across the scorched terrain, mindful of not tripping over the fallen lizardmen. As they progressed, Tyrus stole one final glance over his shoulder, unable to tear his eyes away from the defeated lizardmen. Soon enough, they arrived at the base of the bridge. Upon closer inspection, they discovered that most of the planks were missing. Exchanging a knowing look, Tyrus and Igneal instantly understood that they were both thinking the same thing.

How in Sthito's name were they going to make it across?