His vision blurred as the world bloomed back into existence. He felt someone pick him up and the unbearable pain as pressure pressed against his flesh, no matter how gentle it was done. Every step sent shockwaves throughout his body and hindered his efforts to keep his flaming vitality under control. The ethereal flames from the Ignar Peonies fed off of his vitality, but the faster it flowed throughout his veins the harder they found it to latch onto his energy. Coughing up a breath of smoke, he closed his eyes and desperately sped up his vitality. It didn’t take long before he passed out once more.
What brought him back the second time was the feeling of the mask adhering to his face, and the fresh air that flowed into his lungs in an effort to sustain him. His mind clouded, he could only keep focusing on speeding his vitality up. He could sense the flames losing their fuel as they failed to attach themselves to the surging current, yet not all flames had died out. He heard a quiet voice echo into his mind but he couldn’t make out the words- solely focused on survival. Ryke felt the vitality forming something beneath his Aurelius flame, speeding up and suffocating the ethereal fire parasitizing his body. Before it fully formed though, his mind could only succumb to his injuries and the world faded away/
His third awakening was much more stressful. Whoever was holding him was shaking furiously, their steps and stance no longer gentle- forced to grip him firmly as they carried him over their shoulder with one arm. Something warm splattered across his face and his ears were deafened by a furious roar and a seething hiss alike. His rescuer(?) shook lightly and waves of pain rippled through Ryke’s body, too weak to even scream. Willingly, he closed his eyes to escape the painful, blurry vision and ignored the outside world to focus within. A weak circular shape was forming beneath the golden azure Aurelius Flame, vitality surging clockwise like water. Faint embers of the Ignar Flame still found themselves lit but were soon to die out- Ryke was only afraid of what would happen should the shape break and Vitality grow stagnant. With a heavy heart, he did his best to stabilise the shape.
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Lycus stepped back into the cave with nimble yet silent steps, his vitality coursing through his legs and centering around his feet. Like a ghost his figure quietly slithered throughout the tunnels and failed to make a sound even as he stepped through puddles of blood and gore. The mask did its best to lower the scalding temperature of the air he breathed whilst filtering out the toxins, yet it failed to do both. Lycus closed his eyes for a moment, breathed deeply and kept rushing in.
His heart pounded when he saw Rykes body next to the Devil. The multiple cuts and gashes littering Ryke’s body, the long wound down the Devil’s arm and the gaping hole stretching from its collar to its abdomen. The panic in its dead eyes and Ryke’s quick, unsteady breath. His veins were scorched black, burnt blood dripped from his ears and his flesh was a scalding red. Every inch of his body seemed damaged and yet, Lycus was insistent he could be saved somehow. He just had to carry him back. They’d rendezvous with the group and then rush home. They’d make it.
His tears soaked the inner surface of the mask as he gently picked the boy up. He felt his weight, both light and heavy. Lycus grabbed everything he could and made sure nothing of Ryke’s was left behind before making his way back up the tunnels and into freedom. He was readjusting Ryke’s mask in near constant paranoia that the toxins would kill his friend, and he couldn’t help his mind from diving deep into the past as he did so. Every step was a new memory. Every step brought forth an old one.
Beating wildly, Lycus was incredibly aware of both his own and the injured Centurion’s heartbeat. The panic on his own and the strange new calm that’s settled into the other. How blood flowed with every beat, coursing through his body. Something flickered through his mind at the thought but whatever newfound realisation was quickly drowned out by the past. Joy. Sadness. Rage. Pain. As he brought the dying boy out and into the open air, his mind finally settled on the first memory he could remember.
And yet his stupor only lasted a moment before an Angicor opened its gaping maw above his head and threatened to devour them both whole. Stumbling back in surprise, Lycus nearly dropped Ryke in a panic. He tightened his grip in response and had to do his best to ignore the expression of pain his friend made while he slung him over his shoulder and drew his blade. A thin longsword that made an elegant chime, it fit his relatively lean build well.
The blade sang as Lycus slashed through the air and into the creature’s scales. Producing a resounding hum as it bounced off, the boy sidestepped the Angicor’s lunge and pierced the sword deep between its scales with a roar. The creature hissed in pain as blood poured out from the wound and all over the human duo. He slammed the hilt into the serpent’s fang as it once more tried to bite at him, allowing Lycus to promptly stab the top of its mouth as it recoiled in pain. The blade shot through its skull and out the top of his head. Panting, he withdrew the blade and quickly checked Ryke for any new injuries. The sigh of relief when he noticed nothing new was heavenly.
Yet, the creature was not the last obstacle in his path.
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“How.. did he take.. Much?”
Sigmar’s stoic voice rang through his ears, only countered by a much gentler, less familiar voice. He felt someone’s hands on his back and a gentle energy flow through his body like liquid light, filling him with a sense of warmth, comfort and.. Wholeness. Ryke did his best to listen to the broken conversation as he accepted whatever was happening, though the gentle voice was much, much clearer to him.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“I believe he took three.”
“What kind of.. three whole..”
“He did. To save his teammates, I presume.”
“And? Did he?”
“I count that all but one of them made it back.”
“Seven?”
“Seven.”
A calm rage filled the room as Sigmar stared the unfamiliar man down, his eyes like boiling magma. Each breath of his warmed the space significantly, yet the unfamiliar man did nothing in response other than continue his actions, whatever they were, on Ryke. He wasn’t sure if either of them were aware he was awake yet.
“According to their report, the Devils had attacked the den of Fera, dubbed Angicor by yours truly.” The man gestured to Ryke. “And in doing so slaughtered and were slaughtered in response. They looted the main room and, upon leaving, were met with a wounded Devil that was previously thought dead.”
“So they left him behind?”
“Of his own orders, yes. For good reason. If you couldn’t tell from the state of his body mere hours ago, the fight was barely won before his body began to burn up from the inside. If they remained, he might not have been able to keep focus on fighting.”
“Then they’d all be dead. What realm was this devil?”
“According to the Stone Lotus Guard that came back, most likely the equivalent of a Peak Ardor realm.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck indeed.” The gentle man repeated, finally lifting his hands and rolling the young boy over on the table- revealing his wide open eyes and his curious expression that quickly shifted to that of dread and apology, though that couldn’t hide Ryke’s mischievous grin. “Good morning?”
“Good evening.” The gentle man stated, before quickly filling the room with his voice. “My name is Ikeros, an Augur. Pleasure to meet you, young man. Anyways, your body has mostly recovered under my treatment except for two things- your veins were charred and filled with so much impurity that I couldn’t heal them fully. I pushed all the impurities to the vein walls in your back, so as to not be visible. This will not effect you as far as I’m aware, not for a very long time. Secondly-
“You are to never use strength boosting anything ever again. Clear?”
“Never-”
“Never again.”
“Crystal.” Ryke grumbled, though he wasn’t sure why. Having an avenue of strength and progress closed off to him forever didn’t feel good, even if he knew it was probably good for him. Sure enough, Ikeros explained exactly why he couldn’t. His body was filled with too many remnant impurities and damage from the Ignar Peony. Any use of herbs or items similar in nature would at best leave him unable to progress ever again or, at worst, leave him dead. In hindsight, he felt rather okay with having a back full of black veins in exchange for managing to survive. He was so thankful in fact that, despite his curiosity, he didn’t even ask what an Augur was, simply making promises of favour after favour to the man. He was practically out of breath when Ikeros finally left under Sigmar’s order.
“That was reckless.” The man said, to which Ryke beamed in response. “Obviously.”
“Obviously?”
“Obviously.”
The older man grunted, tossing Ryke’s clothes and gear back to him with some obvious frustration. Sigmar sat down beside him, remained silent for a few moments and then sighed. The good feeling Ryke had in his gut suddenly dropped and he waited for his Instructor to speak.
“Your group obtained enough Ignar Peony, well over the amount we expected. Not only that, the extra resources acquired from the Angicor Den can be used to nurture many Centurions and the Third Ring Angicor’s heart can provide us with another Animus Centurion. Even your meditation technique has evolved. Yet.. bad things happen too.”
Evolved? What did that mean? Ryke resisted the urge to check his Aurelius Flame as Sigmar continued speaking, the golden fire in his eyes growing dim.
“Ravi was assumedly killed or captured by a Devil upon the twin’s return to your camp. In an effort to lure the enemy away, Ravi tricked them into the fog and allowed Drisnae’s escape. He hasn’t been sighted since. No punishment will befall you or your group in response as there was no right call. Nonetheless.. The Bastion thanks you.”
.. What?