Rise of Tyrus

It wasn’t unusual for a person to become paralyzed and tremble when faced with a fire-breathing drake that was only half the size of a carriage. Tyrus was both shaken and fearful of the situation. The slightest error would plunge him into darkness. In a moment, his ambition to become one of the strongest in the land for a life of grandeur could evaporate.

To play it safe, it would be wise to follow Fiona’s suggestion of learning in a quiet place. He had the choice to do it, however, he showed hesitation due to a particular reason. It was a gut feeling that instinctively rejected the idea. It all began with a boar, fighting goblins, observing bad guys scheming in the dark, and battling a drake with Meadow.

Tyrus had many opportunities to avoid danger, but he took the opposite approach and threw himself into harm’s way. Did his drive to do it stem from a desire to better himself? Probably. Without fail, he made a breakthrough every time, whether in gaining a fresh perspective of the world or acknowledging his limitations in the art of sorcery. All breakthroughs resulted from his life being on the line and a sense of danger. Considering his age, it was quite appalling.

But he didn’t care at all. Why not capitalize on the possibility if putting his life in danger would bring him closer to his desire for strength and fortune? He’s still up and moving, after all. Regardless of what was thrown his way, whether self-imposed or from others, he remained standing until the end. And he would continue remaining victorious so long as he didn’t bite off more than he could chew. Risk can be a driving force for further development. Suppose Fiona found out about his thoughts; what would be her reaction?

Like that matters. Knowing her, she’d probably pass out.

The drake emitted a hiss and pounced at Tyrus with its limbs extended and eyes full of malice. By a close call, he sidestepped the strike and landed on a solid block of stone. While staring at the disgruntled drake, he straightened his back and surveyed the area. Bundles of trees and sporadic rocks encircled them. The arena proved to be the perfect setting for taking on the drake, and Meadow's most productive fighting space.

“Fly towards the trees, Meadow, and strike when the time is right.”

She angled her head. “Okay, but are you sure you’ll be fine?”

“I’ll manage, somehow. It’s only focused on me because I’m a bigger targe–”

Like a lion, the drake sprang onto the rock slab and interrupted Tyrus. He watched Meadow fly past the drake–who paid no attention to the little fairy–and brought up his left palm. In that restricted window, he had already prepared the chant as the beast was approaching.

“Lightning Bolt!”

A thunderous orb crackled and smashed into the drake's face. The drake came crashing down to the ground, let out a piercing screech, and slid next to Tyrus. Down on its haunches, it vigorously shook its head and emitted a menacing snarl. Tyrus capitalized on the opportunity and lifted his arm.

“Dual Shot!”

Two dazzling spheres materialized above him, each measuring twice the size of a Lightning Bolt and with more intricate arcs in their shape. The downward surge of energy rushed towards the bewildered drake, whose eyes widened in shock as it witnessed the force hurtling in its direction.

Employing nimble movements, it veered to the side, just in time to evade the orbs that crashed onto the rock, creating a haze of dust and scattering fragments. With a cough, Tyrus swatted away the distraction and moved away from the scene, clenching his dagger.

He squinted at the cloud, alert for any motion of the drake. Shortly thereafter, crackling noises emanated from inside and a shimmering illumination twirled. Something hastily surfaced from the smoke and made a beeline towards Tyrus. A scorching ember of equal magnitude to Lightning Bolt hurtled towards his chest.

Panic engulfed his chest as he smoothly rolled away from the sneak attack. More was being ejected as he glanced upward, similar to arrows from a skilled bowman. Like any sensible person, he sprinted from the line of fire. The blasts didn't make contact with him but collided with a tree in the vicinity, which subsequently burst into flames.

That thing really doesn’t care about setting the forest on fire! Unless we put a stop to it soon, the damage from our battle will be beyond repair. The drake has no intentions of holding back one of its weapons, and it probably won’t listen to reason.

Besides, what was the explanation for its battered appearance and chains? The item coiled around its neck brought to mind a just-freed prisoner. If Tyrus didn’t know any better, he would think the drake purposely donned it. Yet, the scattered scars on its body and the lack of wings implied otherwise. Every time he recollected its appearance, he would feel a weight in his gut.

After the motes of fire came to a halt, Tyrus paused and surveyed the gradual dissipation of smoke. When it dispersed, there was no drake hiding behind it. He gaped in surprise as he twirled his body, dialing his senses up to the maximum to detect its location. He caught wind of a rustling noise emanating from the woods and peered over, only to discover that it was simply the falling of leaves.

“Above you!” Meadow warned.

A wide-open mouth loomed just a step away from Tyrus's face as he looked up. Without delay, he raised his dagger and thrust it forcefully just beneath the creature's neck, but instead of penetrating flesh, he heard a clink and saw a piece of metal fall aside. Abruptly, he opened his eyes as one of the drake's teeth sliced his cheek.

As the beast charged into Tyrus, they both tumbled across the grass, with him letting out anguished cries. Tyrus gave up attacking and activated augmentation and Beast Transformation, pouring in as much mana as possible once the drake had the advantage.

Droplets of spittle landed on his face as a maw snapped at him incessantly. Owing to a sudden outburst of strength, he briefly repelled the drake, however, his energy and mana were waning. The drake's eyes bore into Tyrus, and he could sense its ferocity as it fixated on his ears with a look of unbridled hostility. That only magnified his uncertainty, but he couldn't gratify his desire to know.

He relied on his legs to push against its neck and his arms to block its swipes every few seconds. Superficial gashes appeared over his arms, and specks of fabric fluttered above him. A foul stink emanating from rotting meat overwhelmed his sense of smell, leading to watery eyes.

“Any day now, Meadow!”

At his bidding, roots as massive as his torso burst forth and ensnared the drake's neck. The snapping of its jaws lessened as it attempted to lift one of its forelimbs to tear it off, but something impeded it. A weighty rock launched with the force of a man’s average throw hit its eyes.

A viscous white substance spurted out of the wound while an agonizing scream rattled his bones. The drake flailed about, thrashing its tail in a frenzied manner. Regrettably, the tail landed precisely on Tyrus’ left arm. Upon the collision, a sickening crunch that almost caused him to black out from the intensity of the pain overcame him. His arm dangled limply by his side as he clutched it with bleary eyes.

At that exact moment, the idea of retreating consumed his mind entirely. The prospect of sustaining further injuries, particularly in places that could prove fatal, prompted him to reconsider the situation. Blood dribbled down the corners of his mouth as he watched his arm slowly turn color.

“Tyrus!” a voice screamed from behind. Meadow fluttered from her vantage point and floated above his arm. “Run away while you still can; I’ll finish this.”

“N-No,” he said weakly. “I can do this…”

“How? With how you’ve been fighting so far, it looks like you can only…”

A weak, honey-hued gleam radiated from his palm and diffused onto his arm. The pain had only slightly eased despite the passage of time; even breathing was difficult. The mana heart was close to being exhausted, leaving him with a chest full of flames. To make matters worse, the healing had stopped working its magic, no matter how many times he used Healing Touch. He still couldn’t move his arm and its color was still changing.

“I can’t heal broken bones,” he muttered. Recognizing the futility of continuing, he halted and rose with unsteady legs. Advancing a step, the world whirled around him, and he crumpled onto his good arm.

Meadow, with a sad look in her eyes, entered his view. “Tyrus, you’re in no condition to fight. Your arm is shattered and I’m sure your mana is nearly gone. I think it’s best to run and let me–”

“No,” he growled. “I know the drake killed many of your friends and ruined your home, but I want to be the one to finish the job. And look at what the drake is doing.”

He signaled towards the drake, presently contorting like a vexed steed. In response, it expelled flames and rubbed its incapacitated eyes. In a moment of desperation, it emitted a shrill cry. The moment it caught a whiff of the air, it swiftly turned toward the pair's direction and charged ahead, readying another burst of fiery breath.

“One hit from that and you’ll die,” he said. “Summoning p-plants will not work against the fire.”

“As long as it’s dealt with, then I’ll gladly offer my life,” she replied. Meadow raised her arms, ready to unleash another barrage of rocks until a hand wrapped around her tiny frame. “Hey! What are you doing?“

Placing the fairy at his back, Tyrus stood up and rotated to confront the charging beast once again. Inhaling deeply, one breath after another, to replenish even a smidge of his mana, he raised his arm against the creature and gave it a fierce glare.

A regular Lightning Bolt in his current condition would do him no good. If a previous spell when he was in his best condition had done minimal damage, then a spell at his lowest would do nothing. He knew spells had a fixed strength strapped to them, needing only a specific amount of mana to cast.

Adding more mana had no effect, and he could not decrease the mana because it was unchangeable. He needed finer control of inputting mana into a spell, and he had just the idea: silent casting.

Visualize the spell you want to release and gather mana from the mana heart. Before dispersing it outward, preventing dispersal requires great control. A spell more powerful than Lightning Bolt, yet weaker than Dual Shot. Not too much and not too little… A fine control of my primary affinity!

Even with the searing pain, Tyrus clenched his teeth together and pictured a Lightning Bolt exploding from his hand. It would have a strength and size that fell between his two most used spells, allowing him to exert himself without experiencing mana deficiency. That same image appeared in the depths of his mind, and he felt a rush of power from his mana heart forming at his fingertips. A pathway of mana materialized in his mind, but each particle shook uncontrollably.

An ill-formed azure sphere manifested in front of him. Its corporeal shape flickered like a submerged object. Tyrus tried to stabilize the mana flow, but the drake was already a few paces away. It unleashed its fiery breath on him; an attack way bigger than its predecessors.

Ah, forget it! Release!

At his command, the messy sphere jutted forward, colliding with the flames. Rather than being overpowered by the drake, the orb forged ahead, cutting through the flames with effortless precision. Instantly, the energy entered the beast’s mouth and detonated upon impact. In a split second, before the flames could engulf Tyrus, he seized Meadow and propelled himself as far as possible from harm's way.

In his vision, he observed the drake convulsing violently with its tongue protruding from the side. There was a howling sound, which gradually subsided as time passed by. It toppled sideways and lay still as its eyelids sagged. Tyrus monitored it warily until his legs became feeble and gave in. Black spots clouded his vision as he stared vacantly at the blue sky, slowly transforming to gray.

“It’s finished…”