Rise of Tyrus

"We should be safe here," Reo said, crouching beside a collapsed wall. He gestured to the space beside him, and Tyrus jogged over and crouched down too. Reo then spoke in a hushed tone.

"Wilderness Survival teaches you the basics, like starting a fire or building a shelter. Those are good skills to have, but they don't apply in this kind of scenario. I and every person in the combat department has taken the class, so I know what I'm talking about. What we're doing now is stalking beasts. Creatures that have evolved to hunt and kill anything that threatens their territory." He pointed toward the settlement ahead. "Out here, a few rules change. Finding clear water or playing builder won't work one bit."

Tyrus nodded. His academy coursework had covered survival in natural environments, but this was an active reconnaissance in hostile territory occupied by magical creatures. In Wilderness Survival, hunting was one skill each student was tasked with learning, though the type of creature they pursued were regular animals. Those creatures were entirely harmless to Tyrus, but hunting beasts was an entirely different experience.

"Instructor Hugo had us track small animals," Tyrus said quietly. "Prey animals run when they sense danger. Beasts fight back, and they're much stronger, too."

Reo smirked. "Exactly. And depending on their danger level or ranking, they have the capacity to be smart. Some of them lay traps. Some coordinate attacks. Others use the terrain as a weapon. Look at the vegetation ahead."

Upon a closer look, vines wrapped around collapsed stone doorframes, while thorny shrubs blocked alleys like barricades. Weeds burst through every crack, but not in random patches, almost in straight corridors.

What struck him was how organized it all seemed. Not the chaotic growth he'd expect from an abandoned town.

"That's not natural," Tyrus said. "It's patterned."

"Right. You're catching on." Reo pointed with two fingers. "See how the flowers bloom in clusters? How the thorn patches cut off side paths, funnelling anything moving through? This settlement's been repurposed. It's a hunting ground now. This is clearly elemental influence, so a magical beast is present."

Tyrus glanced around. "Since we're on the High Plateau, that means it's a beast that has developed a mana core and controls earth. They can accelerate plant growth and shape it to serve their purposes. Those beautiful flowers? Probably marking territory or concealing ambush points. The clear path through the vegetation? They lead exactly where..."

A low scraping sound echoed from deeper in the settlement, the scratching noise of claws on stone that Tyrus recognized. His ears twitched slightly, his instincts sharpening as his body tensed. In two seconds, a sword appeared in his hands.

It wasn't all that fashionable—the steel sword was plain, its blade marked with some scratches all around while the grip was just plain brown leather and the pommel just a simple sphere.

Still, it felt right in his hand, a reassuring weight promising both defense and swift retribution. It was a tool, not a souvenir to show off, and that suited him just fine. He didn't need an enormous sword that had intricate carvings from tip to hilt like Sir Geroth's or a slim weapon like Nessa's capable of switching elements on the fly.

Those things must've cost a fortune to make, and a fortune wasn't something he had lying around! Yeah, that was it. He was just too poor to be thinking about opulent items.

Reo shot him a sidelong glance. "Easy there. Steel's for when you're caught. If you're already swinging it, you've failed at scouting."

Tyrus hesitated, then stored the blade back into his ring. "So I'm supposed to just watch while something crawls over us?"

"You watch and you learn. And if you're good enough, you walk away without anything knowing you were ever here. That's the art of it."

They peered through the gap in the broken wall. The scraping grew louder. Shadows shifted at the far end of the overgrown street, and then they appeared: three gray hardscales, squat and heavy, their rocky shells grinding against the stone with every movement.

Each was half the size of a lesser hound, long tails dragging like a club across the cracked pavement. Their heads were flat with pointed snouts, and dark, oval eyes were positioned on the side of their heads.

The lead one paused, nostrils flaring. A forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, as its black eyes slid slowly across the ruined street.

Tyrus stiffened, eyes locked onto the creatures. The beast's gaze lingered dangerously close to their hiding spot, unblinking, patient. Its claws scraped against the cobblestones, leaving thin lines in the weathered stone.

The other two hardscales shifted restlessly behind it, tails smacking against walls and rubble in dull thuds that echoed far too loudly in the basin. The one up front lowered its head, snout brushing the cracked ground. Tyrus forced himself to slow his breathing. He pressed his body tighter against the collapsed wall, letting the weeds and shadows swallow him whole. His ears twitched, tracking every scrape of claw and flick of tongue.

The hardscale froze mid-sniff. For a moment, Tyrus was sure it had them. Then it turned abruptly and let out a guttural hiss, as if ordering the others along. The pack scuttled down an alley choked with vines, their heavy shells grinding against stone as they vanished into the ruins.

"Rule two," Reo said. "Don't be interesting. Predators chase noise, movement, scent. Right now, we're air and stone. Nothing more. Congratulations on not pissing your pants and running."

"I've faced things worse than a few hardscales," Tyrus said.

He wasn't lying at all. He faced a nest of rock spiders in an underground cavern, their webs strong enough to bind stone. A lesser fire drake, whose molten breath could turn anything to ash. Bloodlust humans who had eyes emptier than any beast, and mind-controlled Beastfolk whose harrowing appearances and strength sends a shiver down his spine...

Compared to those things, a few hardscales were hardly worth his pulse quickening. And yet… as the hiss of their tails faded down the vine-choked alley, he realized his body hadn't relaxed. His grip still hovered near his ring, and his ears twitched with the faintest noises carried through the basin's echoing corridors.

Reo tapped his shoulder once. "Stay sharp. That was a scouting party. Which means there's a leader somewhere in this pit keeping them organized. They'll have a whole block claimed."

Tyrus nodded, storing the thought away. A leader beast would be smarter, stronger, and more cunning. He'd fought enough packs to know the alphas weren't simply bigger.

"Come on." Reo slid out from their hiding place. "Keep low. Don't shadow me; walk your own line. If one of us trips rubble, the other doesn't follow."

Tyrus obeyed, adjusting his pace so his boots touched only solid stone or root. As they crept forward, the basin unfolded like a predator's mouth.

To their left, a row of collapsed houses created a jagged wall of rubble. Something moved among them; stone scraping on stone, like shells dragging. A pair of hardscales clambered lazily over the ruins, their tongues flicking in and out, sniffing for scent trails.

To their right, the pit walls rose steep and sheer, riddled with holes. At first glance, they looked like collapsed stone pockets. But then one twitched. Spindly legs shifted just within the shadow, drawing back as if disturbed. Threads of web caught the light like thin silver blades.

Those were definitely rock spiders.

They were in a territorial standoff with the hardscales, Tyrus guessed. Both species lurking at the edges of one another's claims, waiting for a weakness. It was no wonder the hardscales were moving in groups, patrolling the streets like scouts. Beasts rarely tolerated overlap. If two different types of beasts coexisted here, something greater kept them bound to this pit.

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Tyrus whispered, "They're both nesting here."

Reo gave a tiny nod without looking back. "Means they've drawn boundaries. Step across one, and we'll find out who they really fear."

The way Reo said it so casually suggested he already had a theory of why rock spiders and hardscales claimed the basin as their territory. And if Reo didn't want to voice it yet, that alone told Tyrus enough.

They pressed deeper. The ruined streets funneled them through thorn-choked paths, where every wall leaned like broken teeth. Beasts prowled unseen, their scraping claws and hissing breaths drifting on the stagnant air. Tyrus felt his senses sharpening to a fine edge, each sound, each shift of shadow mapping itself in his mind.

And then, the basin opened.

At the far end stood a cathedral, its spire cracked in half, jagged stone jutting like a broken finger toward the sky. Its broad doors sagged from their hinges, rotted wood splintered and half-swallowed by vines. Stained glass, once proud and radiant, lay shattered across the steps, glittering like scattered jewels. The courtyard before it was silent. Too silent.

Tyrus couldn't tear his eyes from the shadows inside. Something was wrong about the place, wrong in a way he couldn't put his finger on. He'd felt it in his fight against the rock spider matriarch. Only this feeling was different from before.

He swallowed hard. "We don't go in."

Reo arched a brow at him, but his grin was faint. "Not every door needs opening. Sometimes the best scouting is knowing when to stop. I think we've explored this place enough that'll satisfy Fiona."

They backtracked slowly, retracing their steps through the maze of overgrowth and leaning walls. The hardscales' scraping and the faint skitter of spiders within the pit walls echoed at their backs, but neither beast nor hunter gave them chase. It felt as though the entire basin had eyes, watching them, waiting. Either that or they were oblivious that a pair of humans avoided their detection.

By the time they climbed the narrow road back up the cliffside, the basin lay behind them in uneasy silence. Fiona and the others were waiting where they'd left them, sitting on flat stone that wasn't there previously. Grant rose the moment he spotted them.

Reo threw himself onto the nearest one with exaggerated relief. "We found the reason this route isn't as safe as before. This place is crawling with hardscales claiming the streets, big enough to strip a man to the bone if he trips into them. The plants down there aren't random, either. Looks like something's shaping them into specific paths with thorns and all that."

"Rock spiders too," Tyrus added, straightening. His ears flicked back, recalling the skittering. "We saw tunnels in the pit walls. They're dug in, waiting. It looked like they're keeping to their side of the basin, though. Almost like there's a boundary between them and the hardscales."

"A territorial divide," Fiona said. "So multiple beasts in one ruin, competing for control."

"Not just competing," Reo corrected. "Coexisting, though barely. There's a leader among the hardscales, big enough to boss the others around. That makes their side of the basin especially bad news."

"And the cathedral?" Igneal asked.

Tyrus glanced at Reo before answering. "…We didn't go inside."

That earned him a long silence. Fiona tilted her head. "Why not?"

"Because something nasty is hiding in there," Tyrus said. His tail swished once behind him, betraying unease. "I can't explain it. Just standing near it felt like stepping into a trap. We've seen enough for one day."

Reo shrugged. "And I trust his call. Sometimes the best scout is the one who knows when not to get us all killed."

Fiona studied Tyrus for a moment, then nodded once. "Understood. We'll craft a plan back at camp. I more or less know what's happening down there. For now, we've gathered what we need."

"Leaving fodder just to return here a day later," Reo grumbled. "I know we have to play it safe, but this feels like wasted effort. We're here now, and we've seen what's crawling around. Hardscales are just creatures with a lesser rank, and so are the rock spiders. Why not deal with it while the sun's still up?"

Grant's voice rumbled low. "Because fighting blind is worse than waiting. You also mentioned that the plants there were not grown naturally. One wrong step, and we'd be cut off from each other."

Fiona's expression hardened. "And if we strike without a plan that guarantees we get out of here in one piece, we risk being swarmed by hardscales and spiders at once. We can't afford that."

Reo opened his mouth again, but Igneal cut him off with a humorless smile. "Fiona is right. Charging in would be fun, sure—but careless."

For a moment, silence settled over the group, broken only by the distant cry of a bird wheeling above the basin. Reo sighed dramatically, ruffling his hair. "Fine. Fine. I'll keep my brilliant ideas to myself. You're making it sound like I have a death wish. I said that only because I have full faith in us in dealing with those guys down there. That and walking back here would be such a pain in the ass."

Fiona let out a slow breath through her nose. "Yeah, I know. It's just that I don't know how long we'll be out here clearing this nest of beasts. I don't want to travel back to camp at the dead of night when we're so close to Mevena Scar. What if we were ambushed by... them?"

She didn't have to say it out loud for everyone to understand what she meant by 'them'. For all the beasts prowling the basin, the thought of Beastfolk ambushes was the darker shadow lingering at the edge of their minds. They didn't need to walk on eggshells around him. As if mentioning Beastfolk within earshot of him was some sort of insult. Even Reo, who always had some half-joke cocked and ready, kept quiet this time.

Tyrus caught the look Grant slid toward him—brief, apologetic, a flicker that said I didn't mean for her to bring that up.

Then Grant cleared his throat. "We should move. The longer we stand here, the less daylight we'll have on the road back."

The war has nothing to do with me, Tyrus thought, flexing his hand once at his side. Even if I carry Beastfolk blood, I'm not part of it, and I never was. I won't sulk just because the word hangs in the air.

"Then let's go," Fiona said, rolling up her map. The group fell in behind her, boots crunching against loose stone as the basin shrank behind them.

***

The journey back to their camp went relatively smooth besides a few hiccups. Tyrus used the travel time to practice some of the wilderness navigation techniques from the academy, noting landmarks and trying to memorize the route for future reference. Even though they had a map at their disposal, it wouldn't hurt to put the common route to memory. Predicting the future was impossible, and there may come a time when they wouldn't have a map in hand. The skills felt more relevant out here than they ever had in classroom exercises.

On their way back, a few beasts decided to test their mettle. The first were a group of five skymasons—creatures with beaks carved from stone and talons sharp enough to gouge deep scratches in solid rock. They descended from the sky like falling boulders, their wings as long as a human arm beating with the sound of a millstone. One dove toward Reo with talons extended, while two swept low at Grant's head, and the rest went after Fiona and her horse.

Fiona struggled to control her panicked mount while directing the group's response, her voice cutting through the chaos as she called out positioning orders.

Grant became their defensive anchor, his massive frame and weapon forcing the attacking skymasons to alter their dive patterns mid-flight. Reo used his speed and agility to harass the creatures from unexpected angles, darting between them to disrupt their formation.

Igneal's flames proved effective against the stone-bodied creatures, releasing motes of flames that disrupted their flight control. Tyrus contributed by following up Igneal's attempts at steering them his way and timing his strikes for maximum impact when they committed to their dives.

The battle lasted only minutes. Through their coordination, they brought down all five skymasons without any injury. When they searched the fallen creatures for mana cores, they found nothing. Fiona then ordered Tyrus to stuff two of the carcasses inside his Scourge ring. He did what she asked, kneeling by the nearest skymason and pressing his palm against its body.

With a thought, the creature shimmered and collapsed into mist, sucked into the green gem on his finger. The second followed just as easily, leaving only gouges in the dirt where the corpses had been.

Tyrus fell back into step behind the group as they set off again. Similar patterns emerged with other rocky creatures encountered during their return journey.

A pack of stone-backed beetles fell to Grant's defensive approach combined with Reo's precision strikes at vulnerable joints. A lone terrapace proved too well-armored to justify the time and effort required to penetrate its defenses, so they simply avoided it rather than engage its domed shell unnecessarily.

Each encounter reinforced the same disappointing reality: lesser beasts around these parts lacked the cores that made such expeditions worthwhile. Every fight meant danger and time wasted, yet yielded nothing but scraps—carapaces too cumbersome to carry, shells too heavy to sell, and bones too brittle to bother with. The rocky plateau seemed determined to offer little reward in return.

Nonetheless, getting another chance to swing his sword was welcomed.

By the time they reached camp, the sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the rocky plateau. Their base had been positioned strategically in front of a towering butte, its flat-topped form providing both windbreak and defensive positioning.

There was a supply wagon arranged for quick departure, a small post for their singular horse, and clear sight lines maintained in all directions except their naturally protected rear. This was all being maintained by one man tasked with guarding and tending the camp while Blue Dawn was out.

Sir Wayne was seated on a makeshift bench Fiona created with the elements. Despite hours of lone vigil, his posture remained perfectly upright, weathered hands resting calmly on his knees. The moment Blue Dawn came into view, his dark eyes fixed on Igneal with an expression that looked to be between relief and controlled disapproval.

The knight rose as they approached, strutting over to Igneal. He assessed each member briefly for signs of injury or trouble before his attention returned to his primary responsibility. When his gaze swept over Tyrus, it lingered with barely concealed distaste...

The same look he might give a piece of spoiled meat.

Well hello to you too. The feeling is mutual. After Hat Thief and Mr. Chimp, you're number three on my list of people I wouldn't mind if they disappeared forever.

Tyrus shot the knight a nasty look of his own and made his way toward one of the benches, relaxing as he listened in on their conversation.