Rise of Tyrus

The moment the beast's frills spread wide, Tyrus felt his world narrow to those hypnotic patterns.

On the surface, colors mixed into a golden brown, forming spiraling patterns that throbbed with a strange beat. Each eye dotting the frill drew his gaze deeper, demanding his attention.

He tried to look away, but his muscles locked up, limbs growing heavy and unresponsive. Within seconds, his body turned rigid, paralyzed by the creature's hypnotic gaze.

"Don't look at the frills!" Fiona shouted. "Focus on its lower body!"

Her words reached him as if from a great distance, but they came too late. His sword arm hung limp at his side, fingers refusing to grip the hilt no matter how much his mind commanded them to move. He was completely defenseless, a living statue waiting for death to claim him.

The hardscale knew exactly what it accomplished, an ability it probably used countless times on unwary prey. Stone shifted underfoot as cracks formed around Tyrus's boots, splitting wider until spear-like pillars shot upward, aiming to skewer him like meat on a stick.

The world tilted, and Tyrus felt something hard crash into his side. He slammed onto a patch of weeds, breath exploding from his lungs. The deadly spire ripped up where he'd been a heartbeat earlier. Reo crouched beside him, grimacing.

Blood soaked his tunic where the stone had grazed his stomach, leather sliced through.

"You alive?" Reo asked, forcing a grin even as he pressed a hand to his wound.

Tyrus coughed, eyes wide. "Y-Yeah. Thanks. You saved me."

"Good. Thank me after we win," Reo shot back, voice tight but steady. He pulled his hand away from the cut, flexing his daggers with a flourish. Tyrus stared at him, guilt and gratitude mixing in his chest, but before he could speak again, the battlefield transformed.

The hardscale reared back on its hind legs, its massive form blotting out a section of sky as a hiss echoed off the ruined walls, reverberating through the square until it seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Around the square, massive thickets erupted like the walls of a deadly cage. Brambles soared upward until they towered as high as the beast itself, each vine armored in thorns the length of daggers. They bent inward, caging Blue Dawn inside the basin. Escape routes vanished in an instant. Then the ground bucked.

Dust fell from the ruined buildings, and somewhere in the distance, a weakened wall finally surrendered to the vibrations and collapsed with a roaring crash. Fiona's eyes went wide and clenched a fist. Her staff rose high above her head, mana coiling around the crystal tip as she slammed it down with desperate urgency.

The platforms rose just in time as the floor exploded with spear-like spikes of stone, shooting upward in every direction. Where moments before there had been solid ground suitable for combat, now there was only a pit of jutting spikes that would impale anyone unfortunate enough to fall among them. From above, the square looked like a pit of death.

To further enhance the dreadful scene, the corpses near the fountain had spikes jutting from their shells and scales, the tips of the spears shimmering with wet blood. If not for Fiona, they would have been impaled, if not severely injured, where they stood! Just thinking about a spike protruding through his heart sent a shiver down Tyrus' back.

But that wasn't what Tyrus was worried about. For a split second, he wondered how much longer Fiona could hold out until her mana heart was depleted, or nearing its limit. Tyrus wasn't calling her weak or anything like that. In fact, Fiona was one of the more skilled and knowledgeable sorcerers he had the pleasure of knowing. It was just that Fiona's mana pool was more on the...

Tyrus wasn't given the chance to finish that quick thought before the beast continued its oppressive assault. Its throat swelled as it gathered power, and when it exhaled, stone projectiles launched from its position. The air screamed as the projectiles cut through.

Grant braced behind his battered shield, augmentation glowing through his arms as he absorbed impact after impact. Each stone spear slammed into steel with a ring, denting the shield deeper, but he refused to fall.

Fiona spun water into spirals, barriers that stopped stone spears dead in their tracks and dropping them. She pivoted, directing torrents wherever her allies looked weakest while Igneal used wind to steer the spears elsewhere.

Tyrus's mind raced through strategies as he pressed behind the stone platform, feeling the impacts of near misses through the rock itself. A frontal attack was guaranteed to fail; the creature was in charge of the battlefield and could manipulate it at will. They needed to close the distance somehow, but how could they navigate the field of spikes while under constant bombardment?

And why was this darned creature so strong in the first place!?

Tyrus ran through the beast classifications in his head, trying to gauge exactly what they were facing. Instructor Rock had drilled these rankings into his students until they could recite them in their sleep, understanding that proper threat assessment could mean the difference between life and death in the field. The system was complex but logical, designed to give people the information they needed to make informed decisions about which contracts to accept and what they were facing.

Power escalated dramatically through the ranks: lesser, standard, greater, elite, legendary, mythical, and sovereign. But the rankings alone didn't tell the whole story. The danger levels that accompanied them—low, medium, high, extreme—depended on more than just raw strength. Location played a huge part, as did intelligence, elemental affinity, behavior, and dozens of other factors that could turn a theoretically manageable opponent into a death sentence.

A greater beast in open terrain might be classified as a medium danger for a well-equipped team. The same creature in its home territory, with prepared defenses and intimate knowledge of the environment, could easily jump to high or even extreme classification. When exploited, environmental factors could boost a creature's threat level beyond.

This freakishly sturdy beast was such an example.

The shardcrown he'd hunted last night had been standard rank. It was dangerous enough to kill an unprepared sorcerer, but manageable for someone with his skills and knowledge. This hardscale was clearly a step above that, probably greater rank with a threat level somewhere between medium and high given its obvious intelligence and ability to shift the terrain. It had turned this entire basin into its personal hunting ground, manipulating the very earth to serve its purposes with the skill of a master tactician.

The rankings had always confused Tyrus during his first year, the sheer number of factors making it difficult to memorize all the different classifications and their implications. He'd spent countless hours studying with Ivy, going over threat assessment scenarios until his head ached from trying to keep track of all the different factors.

The subject had been one of his weakest during first year even with the help of the bestiary, requiring repeated tutoring sessions just to achieve a grade he was satisfied with on the examinations, which was somewhere around above average.

But now, in the heat of actual combat, the importance of those lessons became all the more clear. Understanding what they faced meant understanding their chances of survival, and right now those chances were looking increasingly slim.

"Bearer," Eaubrus called from the shadows. "Shall I assist you?"

At first, the offer tempted him more than he cared to admit. Another fighter, even a lesser magical beast, could tip the scales of battle in their favor. He was fast and could think on his own, which was an advantage in its own right. Even then, Sir Geroth's warning about keeping the wolf a secret came to mind.

There were still too many unknowns about the beast, and too many ways that revealing his connection to Eaubrus could backfire. And honestly, what could the wolf do against something this massive and powerful? Eaubrus was still classified as a lesser magical beast. Against a creature that was clearly of greater rank, he would be more liability than asset, another target for the hardscale to eliminate while the team gained little in return.

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"No," Tyrus muttered. "Not yet. Only when things are looking really bad and if Sir Wayne doesn't jump in for some reason."

If brute force wouldn't work against the beast's defenses, maybe something more subtle would succeed where lightning had failed. Tyrus switched elements, drawing on the shadows that pooled between the stone spikes like black water. Now wasn't the time to be stingy with mana usage. He still had the medicine waiting for him in the ring, after all.

Shadows coiled around his fingers like living smoke as he shaped a Shadow Bolt, the spell designed not to destroy but to drain. If he couldn't damage the creature directly, perhaps he could weaken it gradually. So, he poked his head around the wall and let one loose.

The bolt struck the creature's flank, a tendril of darkness that seemed to sink into its scales like oil soaking into stone. The creature didn't even flinch at the impact, its massive head not even turning to acknowledge the attack. But Tyrus felt the connection establish itself through a small surge of strength flowing back to him as the spell siphoned a fraction of the beast's vital energy.

It was working, just barely. The effect was subtle, but he could feel its life force trickling into his own reserves like water through a crack in a dam. He began casting Shadow Bolts in rapid succession, each one chipping away at the creature's stamina while restoring his own.

The beast seemed completely unaware of the gradual drain on its resources, focused as it was on maintaining its bombardment and controlling the battlefield. It was a creature of overwhelming power, now accustomed to crushing opposition through brute force. That arrogance might be the opening they needed.

He made his choice. Instead of cowering behind his platform, Tyrus slid around it and entered the field of spikes below. The gaps between them were narrow, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through sideways, but his smaller frame gave him an advantage that the others lacked. He moved like liquid between the stone teeth.

Reo descended and danced atop the spires, feet barely greeting stone before he launched to the next. His daggers gleamed with mana, slashing midair to deflect smaller shards. Every cut sparked as steel met stone, his speed the only thing keeping him untouched. But with every swing of his arms, the blood seeping through his tunic was growing crimson by the second.

When Tyrus got close to the creature, he locked eyes on its wounded leg, still connected by mere tendons and muscle. Lightning coiled around his arm as he channeled more power than usual, this time with the concentrated energy of a Dual Shot compressed into a single devastating attack. After releasing it, the spell screamed across the square, lancing toward the creature's wounded limb.

For a moment, it looked like the attack would connect, until a wall of stone rose to intercept it, the hardscales earth magic responding faster than thought itself. The Lightning Bolt exploded against the barrier in a shower of sparks and stone fragments, the residue sputtering harmlessly into the ground. Tyrus grimaced, frustration burning in his chest like acid.

Really!? Why can't you just take the hit and fall!

The onslaught of projectiles stopped, thankfully. However, the creature's attention was now fixed on Tyrus. Fiona, on the other hand, had a different strategy in mind. She unleashed high-pressure streams of water from her staff, which sliced through the stone spikes with ease, much like a scythe through wheat. The obstacles that had been holding them back shattered under the attack, their sharp points reduced to harmless rubble within moments.

Grant dropped from his platform with a thunderous crash that shook the ground, his shield raised and ready as he rushed forward. Igneal moved to follow his lead, flames already beginning to dance around his fingers as he prepared to unleash another barrage of fire magic. But before he could advance, Fiona caught his arm and whispered into his ears before shifting her attention to the others.

"Distract that thing for us, you three! I know a way we can defeat it!"

Grant, Reo, and Tyrus responded without question, pressing their attack with renewed vigor.

Almost in a fit of rage at Fiona's boast, the creature reared up again, trying to force them to look at its hypnotic frills with their mesmerizing patterns. It adjusted the terrain beneath their feet, raising platforms to get them higher, creating unstable footing designed to make them stumble and fall. Spikes thrust up from unexpected angles, trying to impale the unwary.

But they had learned to fight smart during their time together as a team. Eyes remained focused downward, movements stayed coordinated despite the chaos, and none of them gave the hardscale the opening it sought. They had adapted to its tactics, found ways to work within the constraints it imposed rather than fighting them directly.

Tyrus continued his barrage of Shadow Bolts, each dark tendril finding its mark and siphoning away tiny portions of the creature's seemingly inexhaustible energy. The spell was less dramatic than his lightning magic, but it was having an effect. He could feel his own strength returning in small increments, while the opponents' strength was depleting.

And then Tyrus saw it—light refracting in the corner of his vision. Above the beast, suspended like a second sky, was a sphere of water the size of a wagon. At first, he believed it was another magical beast, and fear surged through him. He barely rolled aside before the massive ball of water crashed down.

The deluge slammed into the greater hardscale, engulfing it in a torrent. For the first time, the creature stumbled, its hiss breaking into a gutteral roar. The collision drove the beast to stumble, but its mangled leg couldn't support the sudden shift in weight. The creature slipped on the water-slicked stone, its massive form sliding sideways as it struggled to maintain balance on its remaining functional limbs. At the moment, its frills were folded against its body.

Water cascaded across the square in torrents that swept away debris and filled every crack in the broken stone. Steam rose where the water met superheated rock thanks to Igneal, creating a fog bank that temporarily obscured the battlefield.

Before it could recover from the stunning impact, Fiona and Igneal stepped forward in perfect synchronization. Together, she and the noble unleashed fire. A storm of flame roared into the soaked beast, steam exploding into the air. The square turned into a furnace, heat blasting against Tyrus's throat until he coughed and blinked through stinging eyes.

An ear-splitting wail cut through the roar of fire. The hardscale thrashed in agony, its massive body writhing as the flames found gaps in its armor plating and began to cook the flesh beneath. Then, with desperate fury, it swept its massive tail toward the two sorcerers with enough force to crush them both into paste against the nearest wall.

Much to its dismay, Grant appeared between the tail and his teammates. He poured the last of his mana into his cracked shield, braced his legs, and met the blow head-on. The impact shattered the steel with a scream, hurling him across the square and colliding with the carcass of a rock spider.

The flames ceased abruptly as Fiona and Igneal staggered backward, their mana reserves completely depleted by the massive expenditure of magical energy. Both were pale and shaking, sweat streaming down their faces from the heat they had generated. The creature rose slowly from the water-soaked ground, steam rising from its massive form like incense from some altar.

"Not even that worked?" Tyrus croaked.

He was beginning to think that no matter what they tried, nothing would get past the beast's rock-hard armor.

Repeated attacks through blunt force seemed to work, but the beast wouldn't allow anyone to get close, let alone give them enough time for another breach in its defenses to appear. Was the gap between Blue Dawn and a magical beast of the greater rank that vast? Was now the time to rely on Sir Wayne's help, despite the group wanting to slay beasts with their own strength?

Ha! I'd rather bleed out and be eaten by a hardscale than be indebted to that guy! Sorry, Head Healer Vaerlyn, but it looks like I'll have to risk my mana heart this one time. All I have to do is take three sips afterward and it'll be fine, right?

Just as Tyrus was preparing to launch a big attack, what caught his attention the most was the throat area. The concentration of damage there was far greater than anywhere else. The transition zone between the heavily armored head and the more flexible neck showed a spiderweb of fractures.

"Eaubrus," he said mentally, his thoughts focused with laser intensity. "What does its face look like? Are the frills up?"

"The frills are retracted," came the immediate reply.

That was all Tyrus needed to hear. Lightning gathered around his right hand, but this time he shaped it differently than his usual spells. Instead of a bolt or an orb designed for speed and explosive power, he formed a spear designed to pierce armor and then release its energy from within the target. The spell was more complex than anything in his normal arsenal, requiring precise control to maintain the weapon's structure.

Tyrus broke from cover, his eyes blazing with determination as he sprinted toward the recovering hardscale. The creature spotted him immediately as it rose to its full height. Once more, its frills expanded again, those hypnotic patterns swirling with sinister beauty.

Spikes volleyed toward him like a storm of javelins. He dodged, weaving through narrow gaps, heart pounding fire through his pathways. Sparks trailed behind, building brighter, sharper. He funneled mana into it until his chest burned, then layered augmentation into his throwing arm.

Tyrus leapt and hurled the Lightning Spear with a cry that came from somewhere deep in his soul, the weapon blazing through the air like a falling star touched by divine wrath. At the same moment, the paralysis took hold of his body with inexorable force. His muscles locked as the creature's hypnotic gaze claimed him once again, the familiar sensation of helplessness washing over him. He was falling now, unable to control his descent or protect himself from the impact that was coming.

Tyrus hit the ground hard, his head striking the cobblestones with a sickening crack that filled his skull with white-hot agony. Pain exploded through every corner, threatening to drag him into the merciful darkness of unconsciousness. Stars burst across his vision, and for a moment he thought he might be dying.

Through the pain and confusion, a wail pierced the square. It was abrupt, though, cut short by a heavy thud as something crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of choking dust.

Only silence remained.

Tyrus was sprawled on the blood-soaked cobblestones, very much alive despite the pounding in his head. Though his body was still numb, he was regaining feeling in his fingers. He shifted his head as he heard approaching footsteps.

A short man landed beside him, blood streaking his side, grin stubborn despite the pain. "You feeling alright there? You're one insane bastard, you know that? I give you full marks for that throw."

Tyrus fell silent, considering the question. He then raised his arm, flashed Reo a crooked smile, and gave him a thumbs up.

"Never better..."