His weeks spent training with Lina hadn't been all dialogue and no action. They'd fought a thousand times perhaps, and Tyr had learned a great deal from her. All day long, Lina's stamina was tremendous and her recovery rate was well above the average mage, in his somewhat limited experience.

He'd never expected her to be such an effective trainer, but then again... Those who can do, do. Those who can't, teach. Perhaps that was part of it, thinking to himself as he lay flat on his stomach on the back of Okami. Lina could do though, and she did very well – tearing him to ribbons, and each time he got a little better. “You ready?”

“Keep it away from my fur. I don't want it to catch on fire like last time, it stinks.”

Tyr chuckled. Every ounce of his energy went towards ensuring that he clutched at Okami's back, and the rest of it went into his legs. He'd thought that a combination of earth and fire mana would be the strongest. Earth for durability, endurance, and a root to ensure he didn't tear his muscles to shreds – along with fire for the raw power. And it was... Sometimes, but the two elements didn't have the necessary synergy quite right for projection.

Lina had been correct, fire and water were opposites – but sometimes that made them the best companions. Magic wasn't a game of kraken phoenix dragon, they were a collection of elements that served the balance. Opposite or contrary, in the grander scheme, was a good thing. Everything about reality existed in duality and forcing them into a meeting point was ideal. Water was warmed by the sun, evaporating into rains to pull the toxic salt from the sea and erode the earth into fertile soil. Wind came and plucked up the dust, moving it all around. There were no adversaries in nature, only one part of the greater whole responsible for life.

The muscles in his legs burst, swelling with blue veins popping out of his bare calves. Not wise to use the freerunner's at a time like this – he'd almost learned that the hard way. There was a sound like a tea kettle whistling, a pop, and then all of that mana he'd built up in his limbs stormed out of his heels in a jet of vapor.

Okami's powerful legs did the same in his own way, infusing themselves with air to leap and let the torrent of pressurized wind propel them forward. A membranous wedge of air magic to cut through the atmosphere and give them the aerodynamic properties a wolf and rider weren't meant to have. Splitting the air ahead of them with a booming clap of wind as Tyr pushed with all his might.

There was a word for this, one that Tyr could feel just on the tip of his tongue, a synonym for the projectile fired from a propellant based weapon... Rickets? No... That was a disease. In any case, with the teamwork of Okami and a fine balance between their mana, they made for a wolf ricket. Or whatever it was called...

On paper, Okami had the harder of the two jobs, but Tyr didn't think so – and the great wolf had agreed with him. Guardian beasts were the presumed 'original magic users', it was as easy as breathing for them, everything the wolf did was magic. Every step he took was a blessing not possible without mana, while Tyr was still in his relative infancy with it. It was all fire, his specialty, with just the right of water mana added at precise intervals.

Too little, and he'd do no more than let off a smoke screen. Too much, and he'd tear his own arms off and go off chasing either the clouds or the ground. Even after all his constant training and focus on building himself up physically, a thing of which Tyr felt like he was approaching his peak, he was too strong for his own body.

Sure, when it came to spells – he wasn't much compared to a real mage. He could comfortably weave at a level three standard, but projecting raw elemental mana the way he did was something human mages couldn't do. He was certain that it was at the level four standard, easily, maybe even more if he really focused and didn't care about blowing himself up. The problem was simplicity.

Real level four spells had detail and care put into their development that made them strong. It wasn't so simple as 'lot fire go boom', it was a complex net of logic and rules, triggers and effects. For example, the level three fireball spell, one of the most basic spells in the evocation school. It wasn't just a ball of fire, it had physical force to it, a compression of arcane, fire, and air magic. Tyr's fire was kinetic because it carried his spira with it, he thought...

It was hard to say.

A mage could use a fire spell but it didn't automatically carry kinetic force. Kinesis was a defining principle of the arcane school. As in, the fireball shall be a sphere exactly one meter in diameter with a shell of arcane magic on the exterior, which would burst and let the super heated air free once it struck something. Resulting in a cascade as the hot gas exploded outward.

Fire as primary, air secondary, and kinetic arcane magic as the tertiary component of the constructed mana emission.

It was something like that, some even had gravity magic inside of them to do the same, or a compressed ball of earth. Water to add punch and conduction to the heat. A wind array to result in a true firestorm effect once it landed. But a human mage simply 'shooting' fire was little more than a salamander. It might stick and burn but it wouldn't have any force to it, and without the complexity defining other spells it was relatively simple to counter. Tyr was trying to work around this, but it still amounted to letting out more than they could handle, faster than they could react.

A cannon held by a very small pair of arms, if he managed to surrender his inborn biological desire to not tear himself apart... That thing in the human brain that limits you, Tyr wasn't sure how big a 'boom' he could create. Right now, it was pretty big, easily capable of destroying a building – he just needed to focus.

The only solution, ultimately, was to become so powerful that Lina's rule applied. A wall was designed to stop things, he just needed a bigger battering ram to smash through. A crude, but valid enough metaphor for how he'd reach the next level – he thought.

Continuing...

“I can barely think straight with your thoughts all over the place!” Okami shouted over the rushing wind as they skated rapidly over the ground, unable to control the influence of Tyr's whirling thoughts in the same way that the latter could. In such close proximity, Okami could feel the skin of 'his' feet crisping, even if the fire was far from that part of his own body. He thought and felt the same things Tyr did, and that bond only seemed to get stronger over time. As long as they were in close proximity.

“I need a rest.” Okami said after a dozen or so minutes, alighting on the ground and panting.

“It's quiet now.” Tyr observed, looking around. The terrain here was too uneven to see the walls in the distance, but they'd closed most of the space between themselves and the city so quickly that he couldn't help but feel excited. This was progress. He was doing something, a small victory and only with the assistance of Okami, but a victory nonetheless. Honest pride burst in his chest, slamming against that self deprecating barrier he'd thrown up around his psyche. Not so much the mutt anymore, if only they could see him now. “Do you feel anything?”

“No, that mana we felt is no longer--” A thumping noise attracted the attention of both. When so near this partner, Tyr too shared his senses if not his constant thoughts. The smell of pine and grass on the air, wet soil, the chirping of birds. Spoor from a game animal that was less 'shit' and more a promise that warm blooded food was nearby, a clash of sensations.

The thudding sound as an axe struck the earth a score of meters away with incredible force. Sinking all the way to the haft in the soil. “That is an axe.” Okami observed.

“I can... See that. Thank you.” Tyr patted Okami's thick neck affectionately. He'd spent most of his time and obvious effort in the creation of artifacts, recognizing it instantly. It's handle was warped and curved at an unnatural angle, and he was sure the head was in even worse shape. So hot that it continued sizzling at the dirt after so long a journey towards them. “That's probably a bad sign. That definitely came from the direction we're heading.”

What awaited them was... He wasn't quite sure. Okami bucked Tyr from his back with a nervous whine and muffled apology. Tyr felt his fear, how he ran away from something when he'd never shown any kind of emotion like that before. And to be honest, Tyr didn't begrudge him that.

There was a ridge where the land would turn up, and then fall back down a bit into the basin where Leygein sat. The tiered city sloping down until it finally hit the water. The field before the city itself was bathed in bright fire, scorched all around. And yet even as it burned, it blossomed. Plants and ferns on the sparse, well tread dirt shot into existence before burning again in an eternal cycle of life and fiery death. There were a dozen men below them, surrounding a statuesque woman with bronze skin, scarlet red hair, and a black horn jutting from her forehead.

A kijin...? No, not horns. She's only got one horn – Benny said something about a one horned kijin...

The smell was very familiar to him, and it was powerful – he just didn't know where he'd felt that sensation before.

Tyr pondered, squinting his eyes to get a better look until something else went flying. Something, or more appropriately, someone. Daito was covered in burns and groaning, cratering the ridge and letting off plumes of smoke. From the waist up, he was patterned in bruises and open sores, looking absolutely beaten. Abused in a way that even Nala's furious assault in the arena hadn't managed...

“Having trouble?” Tyr chuckled. There was no immediate threat to the city after all. This woman was so immensely strong, whoever she was, that it left no doubt in his mind that she could have invaded the place had she wanted to. Kicked right through the walls and burned it to the ground. It looked like they were doing their best to corral her, and failing miserably. While she, in turn, was attempting to escape.

...Perhaps? Was she not strong enough to simply run through their attacks? It almost looked like she was feigning every action, playing around with them. There wasn't a single casualty present, by the looks of it.

“Get out of here...” Daito groaned. “This is no jest, nor insult. This woman is far beyond you, she says she's come to kill the primus. And for some reason, I believe her.” Tyr raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on that, he had no stake in this. People were showing their colors, crowding around the wall and cheering on their adventurers as more and more of them dropped down and into the fray. Most didn't last long, battered away by the woman. But none of them were killed nor overly injured.

Just incapacitated, tossed around like children.

“Her control is impressive...” Tyr mused. “Okami, want to take a crack at it?”

“I am sorry, brother.” Okami whined. “I can barely move... This... Is a nature spirit.”

A natural spirit, as in an earthly god or 'kami'.

“She's that strong?” He asked, and Okami growled grimly. Feeling like a mountain was balanced by its peak on his rib cage, making it near impossible to breathe.

“Interesting.” Tyr mused. “I've never killed a god before.”

“FLASHFREEZE FIST!” Must've been Rafael, resplendent in his white armor and frost blue cloth – raising a hand to the heavens before bringing it down. Ending his long jump from the walls with a ground shattering punch. Everywhere was white, a burst of winters fury erupting from the abused earth and flickering off towards the woman.

Dozens of meters of earth in all directions frozen hard, snuffing out the fire and allowing a rescue team ingress to carry away the wounded. He was committing himself well – too well right off the bat. Giving Tyr the distinct impression that Lina was right, again.

Rafael hadn't tried very hard in the tournament, after all. Or Asha and the other woman on the Harani team were just that competent, he didn't really care about the trials in any case. His interest in it faded with each passing day, another game by which they'd used to manipulate him to their purposes – but it had allowed him to evolve again.

The woman merely glanced in Rafael's direction before waving her hand lazily, shattering the forest of frosty spears heading in her direction. Saying something about a primus again, but where Rafael had screamed with all his might, this 'kijin' remained soft of voice.

Tyr couldn't blame Rafael for hiding his strength. Or at least... Not trying his hardest. Tyr had, in a way, but not truly. He could have let it all out – but he'd been afraid. Afraid of the pain, something mages weren't supposed to experience. Damage via their own spells shouldn't be possible unless there was a physical component involved, or a spell failure, but those were rare.

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Like falling ice, a rock, or an arcane kinetic reaction. Most of all... Perhaps he found a bit of motivation watching the fight. He wanted so much in that moment, just to struggle. For no more reason that that, to enjoy himself and revel in mindless conflict. That struggle that defined him whether it was in battle or pushing himself to create something new, to face all challenges and crush them until there were none left.

“Don't do it, she might kill you!” Daito shouted, recovering a bit, but Tyr was already gone. A scarlet rocket shooting off the ridge and diving straight into the hellfire that woman was putting off. His hair, what remained of his clothes, everything was gone under the blaze around her. Tyr, double cheeked up and whistling, remained so for just a moment, hairless and blistered before his armor covered him with a satisfying clang. She looked at him, with just a single eye. Articulating like a chameleon, one eye on Tyr and the other on Rafael.

That's fucking creepy.

“Rafael!” Tyr shouted, and the man briefly taken in by the shock of the boy he considered so... Average, except in those rare moments, all of that mana coming from him... Pop, pop, pop. A visible crisping of skin and the man was unconcerned, but his help was well appreciated in any case. “Anvil!”

The woman had a thin smile on her lips, Tyr the comet racing towards her, crackling in the air and throwing off enough heat to be felt from the walls overlooking the confrontation. By the looks of it, she was finally showing some interest in the battle. And why shouldn't she be? With Tyr screaming through the air like a flambeed banshee – pushing himself closer to the limit, murderous intent roiling off his frame with enough force to make men shake and women grow pale. From one predator to another, a connection was present.

“Aye!” Rafael screamed, raising both hands in the air and shouting. It was enough to hearken him back to the days when they'd planned their strategy. They had no proper geomancer, so the job he'd been given was the 'anvil' – the old one-two synergy favored by Daito. As a conjuration specialist, a creation mage, it wasn't hard for him. Ice compacted, hardened, growing in density until hitting a breaking point where it could go no further before it turned to dust.

Rafael stomped and cried out “North Wind Breaking!” - followed by a storming mass of ice. A perfectly flat slab of it, ten meters wide and rising up from the ground to meet Tyr's approach.

“SOLAR--!” Tyr shouted. Even as he did so, he cringed. It was all too much, but the effects were incredible when he gave way and accepted the shame of yelling it out like that. The air around him popped like firecrackers, spraying sparks all around as he was filled with fire mana. So much of it that it consumed all the available oxygen until he was blue in the face and suffocating himself. Forcing a flash fire of such intensity as to consume his flesh. But his job wasn't to keep himself whole as the others needed to, it was to obey Lina's teachings and become a projectile. Half flesh, half bone, fist raised to collect all the mana around him and release it on impact. “FLARE!”

A scarlet tail of a comet bursting from his back like twin wings, the clapping staccato of the sound barrier being broken multiple times in short succession.

There was a sound, there had to be. So much combustion in one small package had to have produced a sound, but Tyr had no ears left to hear it. He was little more than a scorched skeleton by the time he reached her. All around, the earth heaved and buckled, shaking the walls and sending the chaotic force of their clash rolling through the land, enough to knock people off their feet and cherry the stones upon the ground.

The woman blown off her feet by the force of it, shattering the ice designed to serve as both a focus of force and a shield to protect bystanders. Rafael gaped at the raw power present in the spell Tyr had just used, going characteristically overboard. The flash of light so bright that men all around were blinded by it, hissing and cupping their hands over their eyes.

“Holy shit...”

It wasn't complex, nothing impressive from an academic point of view, but the kinetic reaction was tyrannical. Meters of earth around both man and woman pitted into a wide crater. She was buried and encapsulated in the ice so deep that she'd had no chance to struggle or rouse herself before he sealed it shut and forced her beneath the ground. Every square foot of soil he could feel frozen to hold her there as long as it took for more support to arrive.

“What... What was that!?” Someone cried in alarm. Rafael didn't know who, he could barely hear at all after the tremendous clash of those opposing forces. Using fire to beat fire was an odd approach, but the woman had moved for the first time. Blown off her feet through pure violence, no technique necessary, just raw brutality and a sound like the two legged tyrant lizards of the far south roaring. “Was that a person?”

“That person gave their lives to secure our victory!” Someone else said, a tone of respect and reverence in their voice. “It's so... It's so... It's so manly!”

“An honorable death!” They cheered, clapping one another on the shoulders and shouting aloud, some of them slamming their fists into their chests in respect of the sacrifice.

“I will always remember you, flaming skeleton man!”

Hogan hoisted his hammer and shield, squinting at the bright flames and clucking his tongue. “As both his superior, friend, and part time mentor, I wish he'd stop hurting himself like that. I know he can heal, but good gods – lad. Look at that. That's gotta hurt, no?”

He pointed at the pile of blackened bones dancing around in the fire, violently shuddering and jumping about. They were split and cracked all over. Neither of them knew if this was an injury Tyr could recover from, truth be told. Based on the trajectory and the speed at which he'd flown, it was something he'd done to himself. There was little chance the fire domain around that one horned kijin had managed to damage him so.

“It worked, though...” Rafael sighed. The whole city was on high alert, calling all available adventurers in the region back to defend. One moment, it'd been as quiet and serene as ever, and the next... That woman had appeared and begun shouting about killing the primus, the soldiers had fired their bows, things had devolved from there. Quiet again, looking back to see the men and women come to watch the fight, gaping at the scene. “Oh... He's uh... Getting up. Getting up?”

Rafael repeated himself, stammering, it was hard to tell. The bones were still popping and burning, spiraling upwards into a grotesque, vaguely human shape, strings of fibrous flesh interlacing all of the independent bits. Fortunately, the cloud of vapor and shattered chunks of ice all over were far too thick for the common people to see through. But the same could not be said of the assembled adventurers down below.

“Un... Un--”

'Undead' was the accusation, and there were those who were privy to Alexandros' general plan even while Tyr himself was not. Regarding the prince, ensuring only positive rumors were spread. For whatever reason, none could say for sure.

Hogan pulled out a wooden blackjack and struck the man about to speak full in the back of the head. Dwarves were not famed for their speed, but Hogan had a roguish way about him contrary to what one might expect from their race.

“Gold ranked adventurer, my ass!”

“We live in a society!”

“I eat ass!”

“You all saw nothing.” Hogan hissed. “He is a primus, keep your lips sealed or Alexandros might just seal them for you.”

“Well...” Sara Harrelson, battle captain and representative of the Winter guild cleared her throat nervously. All in all, the Hunter's were a bit of a joke. But Daito and Rafael, both of which were here, were some of the strongest adventurers in the Republic – perhaps the strongest. Then, there was the casual dropping of Alexandros' name, without title, in earshot of them all. “Everyone knows he can heal, the trials were broadcast internationally... That is Tyr Faeron, right?”

“Mmm...” Rafael nodded. “It is, but at the very least – let's not give rise to more unfortunate rumors. I can verify that he is very much hum... A living thing.”

He would have said 'human', but he wasn't sure if that could be true. He had seen Lucian fight, prepared himself to go all out for the first time in the tournament and had been struck down by a single flick of a sheathed sword.

By a saint, someone below a primus. From Rafael's perspective, even though he'd under-performed by request of Alexandros, Tyr was the one who'd been hiding the most, it seemed. Not that he minded, really. It was the boys business, only idiots revealed their whole skillset for the entertainment of the masses. Tyr was just an energizing factor, making Rafael feel things he hadn't for over a decade. The need to improve and step forward, to feel passion once again, someone who might've been a rival if there weren't such an age gap. As much of an idiot as the kid was, it was a feeling that he couldn't shake, and he was thankful for it. The inspiration to be better that dimmed and dulled as men grew older.

“That...” Tyr wheezed, pounding his chest and spitting a long string of blackish blood and dirt from his lungs. His body had returned to relative normalcy, even his hair and eyebrows. That had always been an odd thing to Rafael. Flesh healing in certain races was not unheard of, kijin could do it and so could orcs and maxxid, healing factors weren't even rare, let alone unique. But to return to his original appearance was something entirely different. Unlike those other races, Tyr's hair, nails, and teeth grew back just as fast as his skin. “That was very painful. I do not wish to do that again.”

“I would imagine.” Rafael stood as straight as a board, toes pointed in the correct direction should the boy decide to go off and do something inappropriate. He was absolutely sure that Tyr was completely and irrevocably insane, even before the events he'd just witnessed. He didn't fear the young man any longer, but avoiding him in situations like this was probably smart if he wanted to maintain his own sanity... Or health. “That woman has been troubling us for quite some time now.”

“Oh, right.” Tyr winced. “She's... Uh. Whoever that was, she's definitely not beaten. She is meditating in the core of that ball of ice you trapped her in. I didn't even wound her.” His armor was tattered and broken, but the links were forging themselves together automatically, the bit of breastplate exposed doing the same with a dull internal light. His helmet had blown away, his face clearly visible, but it'd come back soon. Artifacts that would've earned him a supreme amount of attention if they were in the possession of a primus. “Pretty sure that's a god, too, by the way.”

“A... God?”

“Yeah, don't worry.” Tyr waved the shocked question off lazily. “It'll serve as a valid exhibition preceding the events of me climbing into the sky and killing the real ones. This one is pretty chill, I think.”

Red, body re-scarring himself even as he spoke, frozen in a perpetual state of abused body and youthful perfection of the face. Flickering back and forth as if the scars were less than real before eventually settling, swimming around his exposed torso. Rafael had to admit, the boy was near perfect in terms of how handsome he was. If not for his personality, he would have been quite the charmer, an angelic existence like he had been ever so briefly back in the astral space. Perhaps...

“...”

Sara stepped forward. Tyr had no idea who she was, but he recognized the insignia. Winter, one of the better, or at least more honorable guilds in the republic. He hadn't interacted with any of them, though, and perception was not always reality. Astonishingly, though, she dropped to one knee as did the rest of the members she had present.

A few other random people, Tyr didn't give them a second look, while the rest milled about – unsure of what to do. Was he a primus, or wasn't he? Whoever was making that call needed to make up their damn minds...

“Lord Primus, how do you--” Sara Harrelson was her name. A platinum ranked adventurer and the battle captain in the Aysgarth region for Winter. Why she was here didn't matter. In her late twenties, rather homely, but with a well muscled body. That's what people said, which surprised him a great deal that anyone could insinuate this woman was 'ugly'. Tyr found her exceptionally attractive in all actuality, enough to give him pause, and she smelled incredible in that way that he... Measured people? How would one articulate that? Her soul looked nice, like a meadow of flowers blooming in the windy highlands. Heather and fardengard in the late spring.

“First of all.” Tyr raised a finger, tutting. “Do you... Alright, so, it's like this.” He seemed unsteady with his words. Rafael had seen him stare at people in a way that left nobody wondering what he thought. Murder. He wanted to kill that person who irritated him, probably. Tyr didn't talk enough to get a good measure of his thoughts or bearing, but the intent was there far too often for comfort. Except this time, with Sara, he was respectful and clearly communicating what he wanted, after his initial bit of stammering. “Marry me.”

Tyr said this, and Hogan burst into laughter. Rafael's eyes shot wide and he looked between the man standing and the woman kneeling. “Tyr Faeron!” He rebuked. “This is hardly the time to commit workplace sexual harassment! As a Hunter, you have a duty to--!”

His words were cut by the murderous glare from the young man before him. Tyr's eyes shone with such conviction that it left no question in Rafael's mind that he... Shit, he actually means to propose to her! Rafael was a self admitted hopeless romantic, despite never taking a woman and opting for the path of the warrior in lieu of romance. Who was he to stand in the way of love?

“Respect, great primus – but no thank you.” Sara chuckled in reply, rising to her feet, tall enough to match him in height. With a short fringe of sandy blond hair obscuring one eye, in a bid to hide the ferocious scar that had turned it milky and white some time ago. “I shall take only one husband and he in turn shall take only one wife. By the sounds of it, you've got quite a collection – and I am of no interest to join such a harem any time soon. Still, I appreciate your offer, it does mean a lot and maybe if I'm in my thirties and alone I'll come find you..”

Rafael shuddered. What would Tyr do once he was refused like that? He had a way of throwing incredible tantrums when he failed at anything, let alone a confession of love... But Rafael barely knew him, Tyr was just being himself, in a manner of speaking.

Impulsive and quick to forget things as ever, and totally oblivious regarding any of these tantrums he'd ever thrown. Perhaps if this had all been a discussion he'd have been reminded of the time he broke an artifact he'd spent over thirty hours on, throwing himself bodily into an industrial crucible of molten copper. Resulting in Valkan having to drag him back out after it had hardened on his skin and he'd been stuck inside...

“Understood.” Tyr sighed, a bit disappointed, but it was what it was. “I don't think that woman is a kijin, like I said. And she most certainly isn't--”

“The shame of it...” A voice boomed in the air, as if it came down from the heavens themselves. “My own beloved giving his love to a woman in my presence.” All of them paused, even Tyr who shuddered as Rafael had, there was an electric power in that voice that gave him great pause. No question who she was referring to at all. “I think a spanking is in order.”

“There you have it.” Tyr's face crumpled at the obscene tone in the voice. Thick, sultry, and manic. “Probably best to get out of here...? Maybe?”

“...See what I mean?” Sara mused, in good humor despite the fact they might all die soon. Testament to her character while the big strong men scurried away nervously and she didn't so much as flinch at the re-commencement of battle. “Some collection.”

“I didn't...” Tyr frowned. “Alright, well... Nevermind. It is what it is, and now my new ambition is to make a conquest of a goddess. That's me, the great slayer. Let's uh... Just fight her again, or something? I'd rather not be spanked, I am a gentle yet passionate lover.”

“...Noted.” Sara laughed again, eyeing the boy up with great interest - that was a man who betrayed expectations. "Let's go punch that so-called god in the face, shall we?"