Leonidas, after crossing over the rising mass of the nearest sand dune and sliding down its surface as he had previously, took a momentary respite behind its rising expanse. Its silhouette cast a long shadow in the morning light, and he scouted out the darkest area beneath it for partial concealment, with an alert awareness of his surroundings at the same time.

His time on Elatra had given him the instincts and training to have passive awareness of his surroundings, and he applied that training right then in order to find some measure of momentary reprieve.

The adrenaline surging through his veins was sourced from a mixed composition of fear, exhilaration, and a primal satisfaction at the damage he had inflicted on the Hive Tyrant—and it helped keep him aware, and able to ignore his injuries. More than that, he felt himself growing both excited and worried over the level of destruction energy his [Cataclysm Core] had unleashed.

Something told him that what he’d done, and how he’d wounded the Hive Tyrant, shouldn’t have been possible. He had likely done something well beyond the bounds of what was expected, and judging from the screaming crowd, they were loving every minute of it.

He was far less enthralled by what was going on.

In fact, the entire arena match seemed suspect.

The Hive Tyrant was, by his estimation, far too powerful for someone at Novice rank to be able to reasonably defeat. He had the nagging feeling he’d been set up for failure, and he still hadn’t seen the other opponents Ceruviel had warned him would appear. He didn’t suspect the Dusk-Lord’s hand in the matter, because she had seemed less than thrilled about his change of match-up.

Even attempting to peruse information in his [Codex] gave him nothing.

All he could do, then, was make educated deductions.

The term ‘Tyrant’ implied his current foe controlled or ruled over others of its ilk, and the thought of more of them appearing was both chilling and exhausting to even consider. It was a possibility he had to acknowledge, though, and be prepared for.

The Arachnid, though wounded, was a formidable adversary, and its survival instincts had clearly been honed by harsh battles. The wherewithal to cut off its own limb, regardless of any insect or animal’s natural opposition—in most cases—to such an extreme action spoke volumes about the Hive Tyrant’s intellect.

It also implied, whether likely or not, that it could potentially regenerate limbs like some insects or reptiles could. It would explain its willingness to sever its own pincer so readily.

Leonidas reached up distractedly and wiped the mix of sweat, sand, and blood from his face while his mind raced through options.

The creature's agility and brute force were empirical advantages he couldn’t hope to overcome conventionally, but its recent injury provided Leonidas with a critical insight into its vulnerabilities. The explosive and corrosive effects of his last attack had clearly taken the Hive Tyrant by surprise, and while he knew that it would be instinctively or even actively—given its malicious intellect—wary of a repeat of the same, he intended on taking advantage of that identified weakness regardless.

First, however, his Health, Mana, and Psi would need to regenerate enough to allow him to prosecute any kind of offensive, and while they did, he could also enjoy the—

“Fuck,” he cursed softly under his breath.

His Health hadn’t moved.

For all that his Psi and Mana, and especially his Stamina, seemed to regenerate at something approaching a reliable pace; his Health wasn’t moving an iota. In fact, it seemed to have dropped another point in the time since he’d descended the dune.

That was bad.

That was very bad.

Leonidas’ eyes swept the expanse of the area again, and with only one more moment’s hesitation, he started out across the sand at a steady jog. Discomfort, soreness, and overall tightness in his limbs from his exhaustive efforts assailed him—but Leonidas ignored them, and instead brought up the [Aetherium Store] window with a whispered “Open the Store, and skip all confirmations” and firm projection of Intent.

The moment he did, he didn’t even bother looking over anything he was offered other than the blazing red [Health Potion] shining tauntingly on the projected screen. The only other options were more potions and what appeared to be wearable accessories, and he didn’t have time to screw around with the latter. He’d assess them when things weren’t so immediately desperate. The Tyrant might emerge atop the dune at any second, and he had to be ready.

Leonidas tapped the potion with that thought in mind, and then tapped the [1] option when quantity was raised as a variable.

A moment later he swiped away the screen, and with a flash of golden light the [Health Potion] appeared in his free left hand, since his right still gripped his damaged [Archon’s Psiblade] tightly. He wouldn’t lose the sword a second time. He couldn’t afford to, summonable weapon or not.

The lights of the delivery, however, were a problem.

The crowd screamed their reaction to his purchase, and he ignored them.

“Jesus Christ,” he growled under his breath, and thanked his lucky stars it was the middle of the day. He hadn’t seen carapace nor claw of the Hive Tyrant yet, despite knowing it had been following him, but that didn’t mean he was wanting to advertise his presence to the world.

With another wary glance around him, Leonidas pulled the cork from the [Health Potion] and promptly tipped it back down his throat. It tasted like chocolate, vanilla, pizza, cookie dough, buttery popcorn, medium-rare steak, sirloin, venison, spicy chicken, and a dozen other delicious things all at once—and with none of the contradiction simultaneous tasting would normally cause.

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It was delicious.

The moment he swallowed the last drop, the bottle and cork vanished instantly, and Leonidas felt a powerful flush of heat suffusing him from within his stomach, which promptly outward at a rapid pace.

A dull pop echoed from his pained left side, and a wave of tension and discomfort vanished when it did. His stride corrected itself where it had been slightly demented, and he felt himself jogging more cleanly.

His stamina consumption dropped as well.

Subtle cracks, and small echoes of other corrected pieces of anatomy he’d rather not think on too deeply, emanated softly from his body; and when Leonidas glanced at his HUD, he saw his Health gradient refilling rapidly.

The moment it filled completely, he rolled his arms experimentally while continuing his light jog. He felt lighter, and fully whole once more. Every ache, pain, bruise, and feeling of soreness had left his limbs—and he anatomically felt like he’d just walked out into the arena for the first time, again.

The downside, however, was that his physical and mental weariness had not vanished—and now, he felt a distinct growl of hunger that had grown suddenly from a vague awareness that he wanted food to a sudden, near-apocalyptic gurgle of dissatisfaction.

“It’s my metabolism,” Leonidas realized immediately, and then shook his head wryly. He’d heard about the same thing happening on Elatra, usually after someone was healed, but it wasn’t something he’d ever experienced personally with any measure of referrable intensity. His Hero’s constitution had recovered from wounds with alarming, and superhuman levels of speed.

It was strangely nice to be suffering from the same drawbacks as others.

It made him feel somewhat more grounded, in many ways, though he knew—

Instinct, and a flash of awareness lanced through his mind and Leonidas threw himself into a diving roll to his left.

In the place he’d been only seconds earlier, the Hive Tyrant’s nightmare jaws snapped shut, and it screeched in outrage at being denied the kill. Its tail thrashed up through the sand, and its once good pincer snapped at him from out of range—almost like its own version of a middle finger. Leonidas’ eyes narrowed when he looked back at the creature’s eyes, and its beady black gaze met his own with animal cunning.

“Of course you can fucking swim in the sand,” he snarled angrily.

Of course it could, and of course he hadn’t thought of that eventuality. The thing was the nightmare child of a Rhino Beetle, Scorpion, and Praying Mantis; of course it could use the sand like whales used water. Why not? That just made perfect god damned sense.

Leonidas raised his blade angrily in preparation, and assumed a level stance.

“Come on then!” he growled at it angrily, and while preparing to use his partially recovered Psi and Mana for another combination swordforce.

Instead of attacking, however, the Hive Tyrant chittered at him almost as if mocking him or in amusement, and then skittered up to the surface of the sand fully—only to launch itself upward and, with a nightmare undulation of its body, dive back beneath the surface with a writhing slither.

“Okay.” Leonidas said in a nonplussed voice. “That’s going to be a problem.”

He didn’t wait to be surprised again and instead turned, and started sprinting for all that he was worth toward the nearest towering sand dune. The fact he couldn’t even feel vibrations, shakes, or anything approaching tremors told him that the sand was far deeper than he’d imagined, and he couldn’t rely on regular senses to track the—

> “Ah,” Tarnys had said after a moment of clear confusion, which had melted quickly into understanding. “You awakened your Psionic Focus.”

>

> “My what?” Leonidas had asked immediately upon recognizing the name of his Skill.

>

> “Your Psionic Focus. It’s a passive skill that allows you to identify the presence of people you’ve had time to, for lack of a better word, attune to.” Tarnys had explained simply. “From what I understand, it’s like a form of extreme spatial awareness. When you get stronger, it becomes sort of like what you Terrans call ‘active radar’, if my memory is correct.”

Leonidas’s lips twisted into a grim smile when the memory flashed through his mind, and he immediately tapped into his [Psionic Focus] with a flash of Intent. The moment he did, he thought back to the Hive Tyrant, and tried to sense for its mind. He tried to think of its menace, its aura, its predatory excellence, and its loathing for him. He tried to picture its malice, its apex ferocity, and the way it even then stalked and hunted him like a nemesis it sought to conquer.

Despite his best efforts, he failed.

The Hive Tyrant’s attack was foiled only by the subtle ping on his [Psionic Focus] two seconds before it emerged, and even then, Leonidas only managed to dodge it by pure luck. The pincers it swung were still one short, and he had dived for the side that no longer had a claw when it emerged.

The sudden displacement of mass in the sand caused a momentary sinkhole to form, and Leonidas furiously scrambled away from being pulled into the wannabe-sarlacc pit while crawl-rolling himself away. When he did, he heard and felt a THUD of impact, and glanced back to see the Hive Tyrant’s bulbous stinger rising for another strike.

When it descended again, he threw up his left hand and poured his Psi into his [Psikinetic Shield] on instinct.

The stinger impacted the air an inch from his extended palm and stopped dead.

Both the Tyrant and Leonidas stared at the immobile stinger for a moment in disbelief, and then they both looked back to one another.

Leonidas smirked.

The Hive Tyrant shrieked in rage, and charged toward him.

Leonidas stopped smirking.

The Hive Tyrant’s skittering gait was no less heavy despite its dextrous motion over the sand, and it allowed Leonidas time to throw himself clear of its next stabbing strike while staggering to his feet on the disturbed area of sand, and desperately shoving himself into a run.

Another strike of its tail came from above, and Leonidas veered hard to the right to stay on the creature’s wounded side, and away from the hale and healthy claw on its strong left. The Hive Tyrant shrieked again in outrage at his continued existence, and Leonidas didn’t waste the chance it was giving him. His Psi had been depleted by a full 15 points from the Tyrant’s attack, but it had also regenerated enough that he could more or less weather the loss.

His [Psionic Focus] flared to life, and Leonidas took full advantage to try to hone in on the nightmare Arachnid’s mind while it did its very best to skewer him.

It did mean, however, that he also needed to buy a [Psi Potion].

A risky glance over his shoulder was followed by a hearty “Fuck!” with every ounce of his frustration and adrenaline-fuelled fear, and Leonidas leaped to the left to dodge another strike of the creature’s stinger. He came up from the combat roll with stumbling steps, but managed to throw himself back into a sprint—with an eye for his slowly depleting stamina—and away from the Hive Tyrant once more.

Leonidas had been hoping to avoid dumping his Aetherium on potions during his arena combat, especially given how valuable the currency was based on what he’d been told and experienced first hand, but he was rapidly realizing he wouldn’t have a choice if he wanted to survive.

His regeneration was just too slow, and his expenditure was too high.

The Hive Tyrant finally released another trumpeting bellow of rage, and with a sound of erupting sand, dived back beneath the surface.

When it did, Leonidas suddenly realized something, and glanced backward and then straight down.

His gambit had worked.

He could sense it in the sand beneath him.

Without hesitation, he turned and sprinted away, and pulled up the store as he did.

The next time they met, he promised himself, would be the endgame.

One way or another, the match was going to end.