Rise of Tyrus

Mana coursed through Tyrus's legs like liquid fire as he sprinted across the grasslands. His boots thudded against the uneven ground; every stride kicked up small tufts of dry grass, and the wind howled past his ears. The cool afternoon air whipped at his face, forcing his eyes to water. He didn't slow down one bit or wipe them away.

As soon as he passed the border of Cliffview's territory, a sharp flare of mana pulsed behind him, and disappeared in a heartbeat. Tyrus risked a glance over his shoulder. The mining town rolled empty behind him besides a few regular guards protecting the perimeter from beasts.

He frowned, thinking it was Igneal giving chase, but thought better. Whatever the flash was, it vanished without a trace. Maybe the mines' collapse had sent shockwaves of mana through the ground, or maybe his nerves were just frayed.

He pushed forward, hugging the cliffside as it gradually sloped downward into the vast green below. The wind roared harder, pelting his face, making the corners of his eyes sting. With a low grunt, he focused on his mana heart and channeled energy through the specific pathways leading to his eyes.

His senses ignited, and his vision snapped into focus. The world seemed to move in slow motion, dust motes twinkling like embers. The burning in his eyes vanished, replaced by a clarity that pierced the haze; his sight was like a hawk's. While the concept was straightforward, the execution was not. It was called singular augmentation, or so Sir Geroth had taught in Augmentation Mastery I. Instead of a full-body enhancement, he targeted only the necessary areas.

It was harder than it sounded. Full-body augmentation flowed instinctively, like breathing, while singular focus required thought, like deciding each breath one by one. But it saved mana and spared his heart the strain. Geroth had lectured him endlessly about the difference between using mana and wasting it. A sorcerer who burned their mana heart out in the first hour was nothing but prey in the second.

He kept his pace even, feeling his heart pulse in sync with each stride. The grasslands stretched far and wide before him in waves of green under the dimming afternoon sun.

The lower region of the High Plateau had been filled with rock-scaled and rock-shelled beasts. But up here, the creatures were different. Tyrus spotted a herd of red bison grazing near a shimmering lake, their horns glinting like burnished copper. A little farther out, a pack of lesser hounds sprawled lazily beneath thin patches of shade offered by the spindly white trees.

His eyes caught movement above. Gray-feathered birds circled high with black spiral markings on their wings and obsidian eyes that glistened like stone. They screeched, banking against the sun's glare. Tyrus gave all of them a wide berth. Getting too close to red bison or hounds was a good way to end up trampled or chased. He veered left, arcing his run wide around them. The faint connection to Eaubrus tugged at the back of his mind, growing stronger with each stride. The wolf was close, and closing fast.

"How far did you run off this time?" he muttered under his breath, trying to gauge the distance.

After a few more minutes of running, a steep hill rose ahead, dotted with white, toppled trees at the peak and scattered rocks jutting from the soil. His bond to Eaubrus hummed clearly now, like a second heartbeat.

"I'm here," Tyrus projected through their link.

Eaubrus responded without delay. "I have it in my jaws, bearer. The vermin struggles, but I am holding it down. Hurry before it burrows underground!"

Tyrus surged forward, his boots pounding the incline as he sprinted uphill. At the crest, the scene unfolded before him. Eaubrus, crouched low, had teeth clamped around the horns of a creature writhing in the dirt. Tyrus's mouth hung open at the new creature before him.

With a dark brown carapace gleaming under the sun, its shell patterned with grooves and scars. Two curved horns extended from its head, meeting at the tips in the shape of a spade. Tiny spikes jutted between them, glinting dangerously. The thing was Tyrus's size, if not larger. Around its stout neck was a metal collar, covered in bright white runes that moved in time with the creature's frantic movements. The creature gurgled in a voice as if it were submerged underwater.

It was a beetle, and a large one at that!

"Release me, you filthy mutt!" it spat, its accent warped and guttural.

Tyrus blinked. "A talking beetle?"

He didn't waste time thinking about it. He dashed forward and thrust his palm against the beetle's smooth, dirt-caked shell. Mana surged through his arm, exploding outward in blue arcs. The creature stiffened mid-scream, its limbs jerking violently before falling limp. Eaubrus leapt back, fangs bared. Tyrus raised both hands and released ropes of lightning from his fingertips, weaving into a crackling net that wrapped fast around the beetle's body. Every time it twitched, sparks flared, and the creature convulsed.

When the last strand sealed, Tyrus let out a long exhale, dusting his palms off. "That should hold it for a while."

Eaubrus padded to his side, fur bristled and speckled with dirt. "You took your time."

"Yeah, yeah," Tyrus said. "Good work holding it down. Must've been hard not to kill it outright."

The wolf huffed, tail flicking. "A worthy challenge, though I prefer those that bite back."

Tyrus crouched beside the beetle, his curiosity outweighing his fatigue. Its armor was scarred, not naturally chipped. Marks from tools or bindings, perhaps. And the collar around its neck hummed with power. Then recognition struck.

He'd seen a creature like this before.

"A Subterranean," he muttered under his breath. "Like the ones in the Valis sewers. It looks entirely different from Arach, but definitely the same race."

Before he could piece the thought together, the beetle stirred, signalling the end of the Thunder Stun's effects. Its limbs twitched, scraping the dirt. The Lightning Snare sparked angrily as the beetle tried to move, shocking it back into submission.

"Enough!" it hissed, eyes rolling toward him. "Release me!"

Tyrus stepped closer, his shadow falling over it. "You're not in a position to make demands."

The Subterranean looked like it was about to spout curses at him until it froze. Its black eyes locked on him and widened.

"You…" it whispered, voice trembling. "Kin of storms! Beasts of cruelty!"

Tyrus frowned. "What did you just call me?"

The creature shuddered, as though seized by a memory older than itself. "A savage has appeared before me! Why is one such as you so far from the Beastfolk Kingdom? We were not told of this!"

Eaubrus growled low, stepping forward with teeth bared. The beetle fell silent immediately.

Tyrus rubbed his temple, exasperated. "I'm going to pretend I understood all of that."

He retrieved his sword from the Scourge ring; the blade shone as it caught the light. He pressed the tip just below the creature's chin. "Now, you're going to answer some questions. Starting with the mines. You were there, weren't you?"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The beetle hesitated, which proved to be a mistake. Eaubrus's growl deepened, rumbling like distant thunder.

"Yes," it finally rasped. "Yes! It was me! I weakened the cavern walls and destroyed the stone! But why would one of you care? You should praise me for it! Not like I can refuse your commands, anyway!"

Tyrus's jaw clenched. "Praise you? You killed dozens of miners who were just working to survive! You buried them alive!"

"You speak as though they matter."

Tyrus's eye twitched. His sword pressed harder. "Why? What could possibly justify that?"

The Subterranean blinked slowly. "No one told you about the plan?"

"What plan?"

"For one thing, for their forges to grow cold," the beetle rasped. "And to crumble their army from within. You truly know nothing, kin of storms?"

Tyrus shot a glance at Eaubrus. "Then it's Scourge. It has to be. I can't think of anyone else who wants the Lethos Empire to fall other than the Beastfolk Kingdom, and those guys are working together."

He turned back to the prisoner, eyes narrowed. "What's Scourge doing? What's their goal?"

A wet laugh escaped the creature. "You truly think we act without command of the kin of storms? Glutton for Battle, Yarus, ordered it. We Subterraneans move beneath every city that feeds the Empire's machines. We will break the pillars, flood the tunnels, and leave their veins hollow. Ore, steel, mana stones—it all crumbles."

Tyrus's stomach dropped. If Cliffview was one mine to target, there were dozens more across the High Plateau and beyond. Ironworks, the empire's forge-city, would grind to a halt. The army would lose weapons, armor, and even more. Without those, then holding back the approaching Beastfolk Kingdom would be nearly impossible! That meant more innocent people would lose their lives if the Beastfolk were to cross...

"Which cities?" Tyrus demanded. "How many mines have you attacked already?"

The beetle clicked its mandibles, prepared to respond. But then, the runes on its collar flared, shifting from a pale white to a deep blue. A low hum resonated around them. Tyrus stepped back, sensing the sudden swell of mana.

"Eau—"

A split-second warning brushed his mind. His wolf's teeth clamped on his collar, yanking him sideways. A sword-thin arc of mana sliced through the air, shearing the Lightning Snare like silk and cutting the beetle clean in half. Tyrus hit the ground hard, breath knocked from his lungs. He rolled and looked back in disbelief. The creature's body split open, spilling yellow liquid and guts across the dirt. The smell hit his nostrils like acid.

"What just…" Tyrus whispered.

He searched in the direction the attack had come from, behind a tangle of fallen white trees, but saw nothing. Not even a mana signature. Whoever struck had vanished instantly.

Tyrus barely had time to curse before the collar shrieked. The light blazed with an almost painful brilliance, and the soft humming sound then morphed into a piercing screech.

"Eaubrus!" he shouted.

The wolf didn't hesitate and melted into Tyrus's darkness. Tyrus filled every single pathway, every vein, with power. He leapt, kicking off the hilltop just as the collar exploded.

A white flash swallowed the world. Heat tore across his back, searing through cloth and flesh. The sound came an instant later—an earth-splitting boom that flattened grass and ripped bark from trees. The hilltop disintegrated in a plume of dust and debris.

Tyrus crashed onto the slope below, rolling through scorched dirt and blackened grass. The world spun around him until he slammed shoulder-first into a half-buried boulder. His breath came ragged, chest heaving. The sky above was hazy with smoke.

Ugh... My back is killing me...

For a few seconds, all he could do was lie there, ears ringing. He blinked until the world stopped doubling. His back throbbed, burning pain mixed with the sharp scent of charred cloth. He gritted his teeth and forced himself up onto his knees.

The top half of the hill where the beetle had been was gone. Nothing remained but a pit. Chunks of its carapace lay scattered, sizzling in the grass. The collar's remnants glowed faintly before disintegrating into motes of light.

Tyrus reached back and removed his enchanted coat, grimacing as he peeled the half-burnt fabric away. The back of it was shredded, exposing a gaping hole as wide as a plate. The coat had taken most of the blast for him. It had always protected him before, an ally that had saved his life more times than he could count. The enchantments were powerful… but even they couldn't stand against the raw mana that detonated from that collar.

He stared at the ruined garment for a long time before lowering his head. Tyrus folded the coat as carefully as the torn fabric allowed and slipped it into his Scourge ring. The simple act felt heavier than it should have.

When he tried to rise, a sharp pain lanced across his back and forced a grunt from his throat. He reached behind him, wincing as his fingers brushed over rough, hot skin. It felt like stone under his fingertips.

Eaubrus appeared out of his shadow, padding to his side. "The injury is not fatal, but you will need treatment. The skin is cracked and scorched."

Tyrus nodded, steadying his breath. He pressed a hand against his back, channeled mana downward, and whispered, "Healing Touch."

Warm light spread across his back, knitting the worst of the damage. The searing agony dulled into an ache, though the skin remained raw. He knew he'd need Fiona's help to finish the job. But at least he could move now.

When he finally stood, the world tilted for a moment before steadying. He took another look at the crater, jaw tightening. It had been deliberate, no question about that. The collar wasn't just a restraint, but also a failsafe designed to obliterate the wearer before they could reveal anything they weren't supposed to. The rune design, the sudden mana flare all matched the same runic ignition used in Scourge's sabotage traps, as revealed to him by Fiona.

Tyrus let out a shaky exhale. "Guess I should be thankful I'm still breathing."

The wind shifted, carrying away the smell of burnt grass. He thought about that flash of mana... the one that had sliced through the beetle a heartbeat before the detonation. The memory replayed in his mind: the thin, perfect arc that cut through air and lightning alike. It wasn't a spell that Elemental Sorcerers used, let alone Conjuration Sorcerers. It was mana released from a blade, meaning a technique only a proficient Augmentation Sorcerer could perform.

Someone had been there. Someone fast, precise, and good enough to strike from range with no wasted motion. They hadn't targeted him—only the beetle. Which meant they didn't want him dead.

No, it was more accurate to assume they tried to kill him and the beetle with that one blow. He was, after all, leaning over the Subterranean during the interrogation. It was through Eaubrus' quick save that Tyrus was still in one piece.

"Why kill the beetle and leave me alive?" he wondered aloud. "If they're Scourge, I'm a target too. It makes no sense to leave me alive."

He paced slowly, scanning the ridges beyond the hill, but the grasslands were empty except for the roaming beasts. Whoever had done it was long gone.

"Unless…" His expression darkened. "They thought I'd die in the blast. Whoever was behind the trees had to hurry or else they'd be caught in the explosion as well, knowing full well what the collar was capable of."

Eaubrus growled and said, "A careless assassin, then."

Tyrus felt anger stir under his skin. It wasn't the fiery rage of a temper, but something colder, steadier. Scourge had been haunting him since Valis, threads of their schemes tangling with his life again and again. Now they'd struck in the open, collapsing a mine full of innocents, killing people who'd done nothing but work for a living. His mind drifted to the miners' faces, the chief barking orders, Bul hauling the crank, and the panic before the fall.

His hands curled into fists. "All of this… just to weaken the Lethos Empire. And for what, exactly?"

Tyrus looked up, eyes narrowing at the horizon.

"Yarus," he said. The name lingered in the air like a curse. "Sounds like a Beastfolk name, and going by the beetle's words about the kin of storms, they're definitely a black tiger."

Black tigers... Even among Beastfolk, they were whispered about with unease. Predators among predators, unmatched in strength. If one of their kind was commanding Subterraneans to sabotage the Lethos Empire, then this wasn't a small conflict. It was war moving in the dark, spreading under the ground while the Empire slept.

"Kin of storms," he repeated softly. The beetle's last words replayed in his mind, with that note of fear in its voice. Beasts of cruelty. What did those names mean? Why did the Subterraneans call them that?

He glanced down at his hands. "Are the Subterraneans compelled to follow the black tigers willingly, or unwillingly? Or is there something else going on…"

Eaubrus lowered his head beside him. "You dwell too long in thought. Your back will tear again if you brood standing still. You must heal your injuries."

Tyrus gave a humorless smile. He patted the wolf's head lightly. "Let's head back. The others need to know what happened."

He turned toward the west, where the sun hung high, painting the plains in long golden streaks. Tyrus started walking, every step heavy. To relieve the pressure, Tyrus summoned his sword and leaned against it for support as he trudged. It was both uncomfortable and imperfect, yet better than nothing. Eaubrus padded beside him in silence. After a few minutes, Tyrus spoke again, voice quieter this time.

"When we get close to Cliffview, stay in my shadow. Remember, you can't be seen by the others."

"Understood. And if danger shows itself again, I will protect you with my life."

The faintest hint of a smile crossed Tyrus' lips. They continued on; the crater and its scorched earth faded into the distance behind them. The grasslands stretched wide and still, save for the quiet whisper of the wind brushing past their path.

Tyrus stared straight ahead, his mind churning with thoughts like a brewing storm: Scourge, Yarus, and the odd link between the Subterraneans and the Beastfolk. He couldn't shake the creature's gaze, the fear in its eyes bordering on reverence.

Soon, a familiar yet unwelcome throb wormed its way into his head the longer he contemplated.