Tristan took in the room. He had been so focused on Guider Daphan and Regis that he had neglected to take in the room. The acolytes who had not been injured by his crashing into them stood quietly around him. Each one had a hand inside their robes and was extracting wooden batons ending in the emblem of their favored god. An essence reservoir was set into the image, none were very powerful, but there were at least thirty.

They were made of wood, which made Tristan’s metal sense much less accurate. Without metal, he could not sense an artifact at all. Regis grinned down at Tristan, his smile was slightly too wide to be natural.

“Don’t want to talk? How about running? We can hunt you down and kill you for good,” Regis said.

Guider Daphan was trying to sneak off the stage and out the back door. Tristan had two choices; flight or fight. At tier four he could probably get away. The only one able to keep up would be Regis, and fighting him alone would be preferable. However, he also needed to get Guider Daphan, who was running in the opposite direction.

He looked over the crowd of acolytes and saw no melee fighters. Their artifacts might be melee-oriented, but Tristan would put money on them all being ranged. If so, he would just need to keep Regis in the line of fire. He was much less durable than Tristan, so even if they did launch their attacks, it would hurt his opponent more.

Tristan nodded at Regis, “I choose to run.”

Regis laughed, “So you prove you’re a coward, just as I…”

He barely got out of the way as a metal lamp post pinwheeled through the space his head occupied. Tristan sprinted at him, summoning Vulcan back, he swung horizontally at Regis’s face. The man stopped it with the flat of his sword, only for the staff to vanish and reappear on the opposite side of the sword. The force was lessened, but Regis still stumbled as he took the flaming end of the lamp to his teeth.

Several acolytes jumped, and several beams of fire and sharp icicles crisscrossed the room. Tristan made a note, that all the artifacts seemed to be either fire or ice-based. He knew air ones existed, but none were currently in use. These people had most likely never used their weapons on mobile targets, as they all aimed where he was, not where he would be.

A wave of flame from Regis came at Tristan, unlike previously, he had an answer to this. He swept Vulcan’s flame into the fire, splitting it to either side. Even the fist sized ball of fire at Vulcan’s tip was vastly more potent than Regis’s entire kern. Tristan was pretty sure that if it were fully unleashed it could melt the Forrest Caldera into a puddle of lava.

He stepped through the corridor of fire he had created and stabbed the butt of the lamp at Regis. Screams started as the fire laden with the force of combustion ignited the stone tiles, the walls, and the people. Regis was also screaming, though in anger not in fear.

“What’s wrong? Thought you were going to hunt me down,” Tristan mocked Regis as he pinned the much lighter man against the wall.

“Die in agony,” Regis snarled. He dropped his sword and grabbed the butt of the lamp with one hand and pointed the other at Tristan. A white flame flickered at the end of his finger, no larger than a candle. It seemed to collapse in on itself becoming brighter until it was a blinding white.

Tristan realized what was happening just as the miniature star detonated. Energy could be squeezed into a very small area, but that did not mean that was its natural state. This explosion contained as much essence as Tristan had, he reinforced himself, but the heat moved straight through, burning his skin and muscles.

If it had been a directed attack, Tristan would have had a cauterized hole blown in his body. As it was the undirected power was still enough to hurl him across the room. He hit something hard and narrow before it collapsed and he hit the wall. It was the open door at the far end of the dining hall. Pieces of flaming lumber fell on him as he came to a stop. Burned again, he did not care much for the feeling.

He consumed one of the healing reservoirs, before looking up. The whole room was filled with fire, slowly bleeding from its pure white color to a natural orange as it ate through the pinewood rafters and walls. Some acolytes thrashed as their skin was charred, but none were standing. Baldy was lying just beside the door, his head twisted at an odd angle.

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Tristan grimaced. Vulcan had been right when he had said that Alloy was not a combat force. None of his alloys would get anywhere near this level of destruction. If Shadow Fist had dominion over decay, he could probably replicate something similar to this if he ever reached tier four. Well, neither of them had versatility, Tristan could heal, destroy, and create.

Regis picked up Vulcan, “What a marvelous weapon, where did you get it?”

“It chose me,” Tristan said. He got back to his feet.

“Sure, like anyone would choose a silver devil when there are better options,” Regis scoffed.

The healing reservoir had accomplished enough. He took the opportunity that Regis granted him and rushed through the fire at the civil protector. Regis wound up his attack, ready to clobber Tristan with a horizontal sweep. He swung, and the lamp vanished. Regis staggered slightly at the abrupt change in weight.

His eyes widened when he saw the lamp post pop back into existence in Tristan’s grip. He did his best to dodge, but already off balance the best he could do was to protect his face. The civil protector probably expected the mythical beast leather to hold, and it did for one bracer. The other was mostly eaten through by decay.

There was the crack of breaking bones as Regis’s forearm snapped at the point of impact. He was stunned, giving Tristan enough time to grab the necklace. His fingers wrapped around the metal links and pulled. All he succeeded in doing was stopping Regis’s backward momentum.

How could a simple chain resist him? Was it an artifact before the reservoir was added? He would need to inspect it later, so for now he released the red chain. Regis was fast, he threw a jab covered in white flame at Tristan’s chest. However, as fast as he was, Tristan already had a hand at his throat.

Half his essence went to resisting the punch, the other half went to decay. He was knocked backward through the doorway, but the damage had been done. That much decay would be able to rot Regis’s head off. Tristan grimaced at the burns covering his chest and the black knuckle brand. Fortunately, it was next to his heart and would heal faster.

Tristan sighed, it was worth it to get rid of Regis. He was about to turn and start towards where he had last seen Guider Daphan when an animalistic scream pulled him up short. Quickly looking back at Regis, he saw that the man had not succumbed to the decay.

Bubbling flesh had been scorched by flames, eliminating the decay. Tristan grimaced, he was very low on essence, while Regis seemed to be an unending font of flames. There was no safety net this time, no army to save him, or any extraneous purpose that he was needed for. He was in enemy territory, breaking his kern here would only leave him helpless before even the simplest guard.

So he ran. Regis was between him and Guider Daphan so he resigned himself to finding the Guider later. Elder Forest had never seen fit to tell Tristan of the secret passages and escape routes that his estate had, so Tristan was relatively certain Guider Daphan was also unaware. Exiting the dining hall, Tristan found that the whole building was starting to burn.

It was not yet to the point of a full blown blaze, but it was beyond what anything short of a powerful water artifact could stop. Regis screamed again, the burnt vocal cords gave it a ghastly tone that was somehow less natural than the elementals occupying the Forest Caldera. For once Tristan cursed his denser body, he was slower than Regis.

Tristan ran around a corner, almost bouncing off the wall in his haste. A wave of white flames followed him, they did not handle the corner as well. The hallway was well and truly burning now. Regis came around a few moments later, murder in his eyes. He roared and activated another circle of fire, with nowhere for it to expand it washed down the hallway in both directions.

Tristan summoned Vulcan and cut the fire apart. Using him like this still took essence, which Tristan was running short on. Regis tried to say something, but it was completely unintelligible. Tristan still knew the gist of it. Die in agony!

Another wave of fire was built and released. Tristan was too far from the next corner and had too little essence to activate Vulcan. So he did the only thing that would give him a chance. He swallowed his other healing reservoir and rushed into the flames. Regis was just as blinded by the white light as Tristan was, so he did not see him until he already had a palm on the pendant.

Tristan recognized the design. It was a version of the essence cuffs with the polarities reversed. All he needed to do was spin the round reservoir. It was not easy, almost as if there were some kind of catch holding it in place. Tristan pushed as hard as he could, the catch broke and the reservoir spun until it caught on a second catch.

He had a moment to notice the reservoir was not round, it had notches inside it. Then Regis collapsed as all of his essence was siphoned away. He struggled back to his feet before Tristan could do anything to him. Now that Regis was without essence, they were on even footing. At least until Regis did the obvious thing. He took the pendant off.

The civil protector still looked tired, but not completely drained. Tristan still had a grip on the amulet so he jerked it out of Regis’s hands and ran. If he could not kill the man, then he would take his most valuable possession. Regis stood to give chase, but without the enormous essence pool to throw waves of fire, Tristan’s familiarity with the structure allowed him to escape.