Rory was feeling good—outstanding, even. While losing his hand a few weeks back had been a nuisance, his new hand felt as good as gold—hell, he felt as if it were better than his old hand. He could more easily sense and manipulate pneuma with the new hand, provided he was directly touching whatever he wanted to manipulate through it. Then there was his latest creation, the 'Vambrace of the Early Void,' which protected him from spatial and void energies and came equipped with built-in spatial storage —a literal video game inventory. It didn't do much else, but always having storage the size of a small storehouse room was leagues better than a rudimentary duffle bag.

Finally, there was his combat gear. His banner remained; the illusions and powerful blade were hard to improve upon at his current level. He had given his combat fatigues a 'retrofit' by which he had overcharged the gear with pneuma. Overcharged, it would eventually decay into nothingness. It was a price not easily paid, but it was well worth it, given the extra durability it would provide in battle against the Tyrant if things went south.

Unlike last time when he'd entered the battle with little else, a battle he hadn't actually been seeking, he now had an entire inventory worth of goodies to use. If the fight somehow turned into a struggle of ranged attacks, well, he had a bow stored. Find himself in need of improvised explosives? He had several unstable crystals within his inventory as well. Alchemical brews? Bingo.

Hence, Rory felt so good; he was perhaps more prepared than ever, thanks to his ability to store things in the ether.

That, and a little trap he'd placed last time.

Checking his 'goodies,' Rory re-examined one in particular, a vial filled with a pulpy red and brown liquid.

Sap of the Bloody Ent

Tier: Six

Quality: Tonic/Toxin

Effect: Constantly drains vital essence in return for increased durability and regeneration.

In video game terminology, it would be akin to reducing your HP to gain a regeneration effect and an enhanced defense stat. While HP wasn't a concept in the real world, vital energy was. It wasn't precisely the same; your vital energy didn't need to be exhausted to cause death. If something damaged your heart, you'd die regardless of how much 'vital energy' remained. It also wasn't that different from mana that you'd find in a storybook or game, which regenerated over time. The main difference was that if your vital energy dropped to zero, you wouldn't just stop casting magic; you'd straight up die. Yet, even if your vital energy was reaching critically low levels, your body could remain physically strong; the two elements were not direct indicators of one another.

The point was that by using his vital energy as a resource, he could ensure that the Tyrant of Earth and Scales would find it harder to wound him and that any injuries inflicted would heal faster. It was a rather potent brew with some serious downsides; it was essentially an artificial boost that would continuously drain you until the antidote was administered. The brew was both a tonic, a positive potion, and a toxin, which was self-explanatory.

It was something that Rory had long ago noticed as a trend for Eon, that creating something to have a purposeful weakness or negative aspect would empower the positive; in this case, the health drain amplified the durability boost of the brew more than would be possible by any of the current alchemical skills of anyone in Ehkorrus.

The one direct negative of the brew was that it was only rated at tier six; he'd made it back when he had been tier six, and thus, it would have a marginally reduced effect the further you moved from the designated tier. Could he make a new one? Sure, but it had taken nearly three weeks by itself, and even if he managed to brew a second one up in half the time, that was still far more time than he intended to spend left in Ehkorrus.

Bloodwood, a common ingredient for use in anything affecting vital energies, a crushed gem that had absorbed a small amount of Eia's aura toxin, some crimson steel shavings, a rather painfully sourced chunk of meat from himself, and some specially balanced Running Ice. The ingredients weren't all that difficult to acquire -even if he hadn't enjoyed filleting himself- but the process of the ingredients absorbing into one another had taken a relatively long time.

All in all, Rory was feeling as prepared as he realistically could be, going into the battle against the Tyrant of Earth and Scales.

But if things went as he hoped, the battle would be far more in his favor to begin with.

"You sure you don't want any help?" Apostolos questioned. His arms were folded over each other as he prepared to see Rory off, frowning slightly.

"Nah." Rory denied. "I'm not saying you guys wouldn't be able to hurt it, but the risk of death is real."

"Are you forgetting I can respawn?" Apostolos countered.

"No, but I'm beginning to think we should stop treating your respawns as a given."

"Huh?" Apostolos seemed taken aback, staring at Rory as if he'd just grown a third arm.

"Well, I began to think about it after the battle with the Bane, and then there were our little efforts with making the inventory. You respawn as your Embers are concentrated blobs of 'you' that, upon your anima running out, you are 'reborn' from."

"Yes, I'm aware," Apostolos said, still confused. "So, what's the problem?"

"The problem is that I don't think you simply respawn. I think whatever sparks are left of you upon your anima bottoming out are pulled through space or whatever, rejoining with your embers and reforming you from those embers. So, what happens if something prevents you from reaching your embers?"

Apostolos's eyes widened, understanding Rory's gist.

"It's less likely at lower tiers." Rory continued, not trying to fearmonger. "But I think we should consider the possibility. It's why I don't think you should treat your respawns as a get-out-of-jail-free card to engage with a stronger foe."

"I'll… I'll consider that. But what would prevent me from returning to my Embers in the case of a respawn against the Tyrant? Did it have any skills that seemed like they could do that?"

"No, but that's not the problem," Rory said with a pained grin. "It's what I'm going to do that will be the problem."

"Oh. Are you going to explain?"

"Nah," Rory answered.

"Why?"

"Because the mystery is fun," Rory said, winking at Apostolos.

"Insufferable." Apostolos sighed. "Alright, tell me after you come back victorious?"

"Sure," Rory said as Apostolos offered him his hand. Taking it, the younger man pulled him into a hug, thumping a fist on his back.

"Just come back without any more missing limbs, alright?"

"I'll think about it." Rory joked as he turned around, leaving Ehkorrus behind.

The journey to where the Tyrant of Earth and Scales called home was a relatively short trip now that Rory knew precisely where and what to expect. A single bangle to suppress his aura in the meantime, Rory was soon crouched outside the desolate terrain.

Here we go.

Sneaking his way further inside, Rory quickly made it to the heart of the Tyrant's dominion.

Now, a clever hunter would lie low, waiting for the perfect opportunity to land a sneak attack.

That was not Rory's plan.

Standing tall, Rory took a deep breath.

No backing out now.

"Hey, you oversized armadillo, get the fuck out here!" Rory shouted as he proceeded to blast his aura as powerfully as he could. Aura was typically a bit of a passive thing, the natural leaking of your energy, colored by your affinity to take varying forms. It could be pressed so that, rather than a light touch, your aura could be wielded as a weapon against weaker foes; those under tier five seemed especially susceptible, as their energies were still too weak to have developed a proper aura of their own.

What Rory was doing was turning it up a notch, actively directing the energies of himself and his surroundings as if he were preparing to use magic, channeling it entirely through his aura.

If his yelling weren't enough, the blatant challenge to the Tyrant's authority would be.

The ground began to shake, and within moments, the Territory Alpha appeared, rage burning in its squinty little eyes as it clawed its way out of the earth.

"There you are, you mole lizard," Rory said, staring down the monster with his arms folded. "Thought you'd be too scared to appear."

Monsters had varying levels of intelligence. Eia, for example, was one of the most intelligent monsters he'd ever encountered, sired by the Khan of Blue Lightning, who was the only speaking monster Rory had met, as well as raised around humans. The Khan needed no explanation, and then there had been the Chosen Bane, which was quite obviously a rather intelligent monster as well.

The Tyrant of Earth and Scales was…. Less so. More intelligent than the most generic monsters? Certainly, but it wasn't to the level of Eia or the other two monsters he'd already listed.

What that meant was that the obvious bait was taken hook, line, and sinker, as it was just intelligent enough to understand it was being disrespected but not quite intelligent enough to see through the obvious bait.

The Tyrant charged him, galloping on all four as a beam instantly began to charge up in its mouth. Snapping his hand forward, suddenly Rory was holding his banner as he swept it through the air once, the Tyrant misfiring as a split-second illusion momentarily distracted it. Spinning to his left like a matador dodging a charging bull, Rory thrust his arm forward as the head of his banner and the elongated spearhead stabbed into its side, spilling its oily black blood.

The Tyrant roared in pain as Rory danced away, snapping the fingers of his left hand before blowing a kiss at the monster.

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"Is that all a little Tyrant can manage?" Rory taunted. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he needed the Tyrant to feel the need to tear into him itself, to keep it close.

Thus, Rory began the dangerous game of staying just close enough to the rampaging monster that it continued to chase after him, but not so close that it was able to catch its slippery target, where it would tear him apart in short order.

Their 'battle' raged for several minutes, though it was more like a dance than a battle as Rory seemed more preoccupied with pissing the monster off than inflicting any lasting damage, an occasional stab or slashing swipe all he bothered with.

After all, his plan was going perfectly, so why would he ruin it?

They soon had traveled a complete circuit of the Tyrant's territory, Rory occasionally snapping with his left hand before dodging a swiping claw or weakly charged beam. As easy as he made it appear, it was anything but easy. The inflated attributes of a Territory Alpha meant that he had to dedicate two mental threads to tracking the monster and responding in kind, during which his third mental thread continued to carry out his plan. A single misstep could take him into the range of the beast. A swipe of those claws, which could tear apart the earth as easily as he tore apart a loaf of bread, could spell the end of him. Even his overcharged fatigues wouldn't be able to withstand the monster for long, as they were tailor-made for battle against the Chosen Bane, which relied more on slashing attacks than sheer kinetic power.

Threading the needle, constantly teetering on the edge of everything going to shit, Rory mentally let out a sigh of relief as their battle led them back to the heart of the Tyrant's territory.

"Well, as fun as this has been," Rory said, rolling away from the most recent of the monster's attacks and springing to his feet. "I think it's time to enter the end phase."

The Tyrant tilted its head at him, monetarily confused at his words, understanding the feeling of what he'd said even if it didn't directly comprehend the words themselves. They'd been fighting for ten minutes, and in truth, neither side had suffered anything but superficial wounds.

"You probably don't understand, so let me clue you in," Rory said with a smirk as his banner vanished. "But let me do so with a demonstration."

Clapping his empty hands together, a spire or obelisk of sorts suddenly shot out from the ground, floating in front of him.

"This is a modified aura conduit." Rory lectured. "An aura conduit that I planted last time I was here."

In the distance, more of the conduits began to suddenly shoot up into the air, emerging from the earth like flying ants emerging from hibernation.

"Those are also aura conduits I planted last time. Each one has three gems within them: a room gem, a barrier gem, and a burn gem."

Room and barrier gems were quite commonly used. Burn gems, on the other hand, had seen very little use over the years since he'd last used them in tandem with his old blood weave armor.

"Each one also had some inscription meant to hide their signature, which was necessary for this to have all worked."

The Tyrant still hadn't resumed attacking, apparently confused as to what was going on.

"Here is the nifty part. Thanks to another monster, I learned it's possible to directly attack the energy that sustains you, an aura toxin. Against a powerful monster such as you, my dear Tyrant, it could easily be crushed. But what happens if it's slowly analyzed, integrated, and then turned back on the source all at once?"

Rory snapped his new hand, as from each of the conduits, a beam of red light shot upward, curving to form a dome with the central pillar of red light emitting from the aura conduit floating in front of him.

"Another monster taught me that in a pinch, the energy within a conduit can be channeled, empowering the source."

The Tyrant had seemingly grown tired of listening, opening its mouth to fire a beam at the floating conduit, only to be surprised to find that the energy needed to manifest the atomic breath wasn't coming.

"Over time, these conduits were exposed to your signature through simple osmosis, buried within your territory; how could they not?"

Switching from its failed beam, the Tyrant stamped a foot downward, but no magma pillars erupted.

"The barrier and room gems were needed to enclose a space, built within aura conduits made of crimson steel that I had purpose-made through the exposure of my affinity thanks to essence projection. With the overall construction attuned to me, I can usurp your control, this space contained within a field of my own making."

It was why Rory hadn't wanted Apostolos to join him. There was a chance the dome would prevent him from respawning if his 'spark' couldn't pass through.

"Finally, the burn gem. Having been exposed to your aura and within a territory that had been turned against you, I could ignite the source that powered them, your very energy. Now, there was one little extra step; I needed to expose the conduits to our energies clashing nearby."

The Tyrant was attempting to use every skill it had, but nothing seemed to work, a rage and frantic energy on its face as it found itself being cornered.

"Hence, why I had to keep you on my tail for so long with that sham of a battle."

Did Rory enjoy monologuing perhaps a bit too much? Sure, but a plan that went perfectly was just something else entirely, a feeling that couldn't be easily replicated.

What Rory didn't mention was that the enervation barrier—the name was still a work in progress—wouldn't last for long. They were sustained by the energies they'd absorbed since being planted; they could only nullify the energies of the Tyrant in equal measures.

"Now then," Rory said as his banner appeared once more alongside his brew, which he uncorked and knocked back in a single go. "Why don't we finish this?"

The Tyrant roared, charging forward, not even bothering to attempt to escape, its ability to tunnel through the ground so easily likely from the final skill that Rory hadn't seen. The wise choice for Rory would have been to back off and pepper the monster with ranged attacks, wearing it down before engaging directly, but he was on a time limit.

Eh, who am I lying to? I just want to finish this up close and personal.

Rory wouldn't say he had an inferiority complex; for the most part, he wasn't bothered by things like feeling 'lesser.' Still, there was a limit to what Rory could ignore, and the Tyrant had been an unattainable threat looming overhead. A mountain that couldn't be climbed for over two decades. A constant reminder that they only survived so long as the Territory Alpha saw them beneath its attention.

If he was going to expand his horizon, he had to conquer that thought nagging at the back of his mind, which the Tyrant had become symbolic of, a sense of not being enough.

Rory shot forward, racing to meet the monster head-on, yelling out his own defiance, looking to tear down the very icon of looming impossibility.

Strike, spin into a roll, stab forward, swap to a slash halfway, abort into a downward slide. For several brief moments, their exchange was a tense trade of feints and failed attacks. Finally attempting to take the monster by surprise with a thrust into a spear throw, Rory was instead tossed back two hundred feet from a single backhanded claw strike by the beast.

Blood erupted from his mouth. The Tyrant had turned all its energy into direct physical blows rather than bother with any of its skills any longer, the blow carrying power like Rory had never felt before.

"Fucker," Rory groaned as his face split into a somewhat devious grin, blood running down his chin. "I'll give you that, nice hit."

The Tyrant was pounding after him, no longer willing to listen to Rory's babbling banter.

"Suit yourself," Rory muttered as the banner vanished, a conjured shield appearing in his left hand and a lashing chain-whip in his right. As the Tyrant attempted to tear a bite out of his side, Rory batted its head to the side with his shield, the entire thing exploding in its face as his chain whip cracked out, also exploding as it contacted the Tyrant. A spewing rent had been torn through its scales. Unable to draw upon the full strength of its energy, even its scales had weakened.

Taking advantage of the momentary stun lock from having a shield explode in its face, Rory put some distance between the two of them as he pointed his hand in the shape of a finger gun toward the monster. Instantly, Rory began to unload a spray of projected pneuma bullets, mostly pinging off its armor while a few managed to slam into softer spots or the recent wound he'd made.

Not bad, but it needs more oomph.

A bow appeared in his hands as Rory drew the string back, holding a crystal-like arrow that resembled a thin lance, the color of diffused blood.

With tier seven, he was able to store more 'images' within his Mind Palace for manifestation. One of those new additions had been a single arrow. While he could fire off pneuma arrows aplenty, they had far less physical weight than a projected arrow such as the one he'd just summoned. Those same projected arrows could then be filled with his dual affinities, forming a rather hefty, crystallized blood arrow.

Turning around to locate Rory, the Tyrant was met with one such arrow whizzing through the air, a split moment from slamming through its eye. The snap reflexes of the Territory Alpha were just good enough that it was able to tilt its head just barely enough that, rather than the arrow stabbing straight through its eye, it instead buried itself into the hardened bony dorsal plating that formed a compact crest near its eyes.

The Tyrant did not like that, slamming its claws down like a child throwing a tantrum as Rory dismissed his bow back into his inventory, his banner appearing once more.

God, this is convenient.

A glance upward furrowed Rory's brown momentarily, the barrier already losing some of its red luster. Gems were far from permanent; there was a solid chance they could burn out even before they'd exhausted the reserve of energy they'd drawn in since he'd buried them here.

We can't drag this out much longer; otherwise, it might become far more dangerous.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Rory dashed in close to the monster, intending to rely on his overcharged armor and the effects of the brew to protect him in close combat.

Speaking of which.

Snatching one of his ossified gems, a rejuvenation gem, from his inventory, Rory swallowed it. It would help counteract the effects of the Sap of the Bloody Ent. While under the effects of the brew, all rejuvenation effects seemed to be diminished as if Eon had purposely sought to prevent the abuse of combining the two to remove all 'cost' related to the partial toxin, partial tonic brew.

Even with the weakened rejuvenation effect, something was better than nothing, and Rory wanted to have the confidence to engage the Tyrant directly.

Relying on every ounce of his tier seven attributes and his heavy investment in cognition, Rory entered a direct melee with the monster, slipping aside powerful blows that would shatter his bones even with his current armor and buff. At times, there were strikes that Rory accepted, his bones creaking and blood spewing as the kinetic force traversed through his body.

In return, Rory would drive the savagely sharp blade of his flag spear into the monster, opening more and more wounds. While the beast was beginning to bleed profusely, Rory would have been a fool not to recognize that he would likely be the one to reach his limit first; he wasn't suited for direct combat, no boosting skills or combat skills. Meanwhile, the Tyrant was a monster that already had more attributes on average than an equal-tier person, plus being a Territory Alpha on top of that.

But Rory didn't need to beat the monster into the ground through a direct physical showdown. He only needed to expose enough weak points.

Two minutes passed, and hundreds of blows were exchanged, some of which Rory had been unable to avoid altogether, before Rory finally retreated, holding his side painfully.

Broken ribs, internal bleeding, torn muscles, and I'm pretty sure at least a few organs ruptured.

Rory could have fought the battle more defensively, but where was the fun in that?

Oh, God, I do need to leave; that Marcie girl might be rubbing off on me.

The Tyrant was pretty badly banged up, but it was far from dead. Worst of all, it seemed to be growing more confident as the energy suppression that had been weakening it slowly lost its grip.

"Good fight," Rory said, finally releasing his side. "But no more."

Spreading his arms wide, softly glowing ripples began to appear behind him as if things were surfacing from the depths. With the baneite ring on his left hand and his pneuma-sensitive prosthetic right hand, Rory leaned into his projection as knives began to appear from the golden ripples behind him, first a few, then a dozen, then several hundred.

"Die like the mongrel you are." Rory scowled at the monster. He was the Architect, and he would be damned if he let some monster continue to lay claim to his rightful territory any longer.

Seeing the hundreds of knives appearing, the Tyrant understood what was about to occur. Starting to regain the use of its energy, its own array of scales began to form.

Rory scoffed at the display. Gesturing once with his still outspread arms, his knives began to spin through the air, colliding with the summoned scales of the Tyrant. Having not totally shaken off the effects of the energy suppression, the Tyrant couldn't summon as many scales as Rory had knives. Before long, the air thrummed with the explosions as the opposing missiles collided, almost like a fireworks display of a somewhat overzealous celebration. The display continued for several seconds until his knives overwhelmed the scales, leaving the Tyrant to watch its final mustered defense fail.

Tumbling through the air, the remaining knives slammed hilt deep into the many wounds that Rory had opened, an anguished screech from the Tyrant.

For a moment after the knives buried themselves in the Tyrant, nothing happened. That was until the monster began to shudder violently as the blades of the very same knives exploded internally against its unarmored insides. The shaking continued for nearly twenty full seconds before everything went still, the hilts vanishing as they dematerialized.

The Tyrant seemed to stare at Rory, black oily blood painting its scales the shade of black gold. Then, as the last of its strength gave out, life faded from its eyes, and it collapsed, leaving Rory the last one standing.

"Hah." Rory panted, a slow laugh beginning to bubble from his throat.

Victory was his.

Still laughing, Rory shook his head. Could he have prepared better? Definitely. Would it have been the same?

Hell no.

The fight was dangerous, more dangerous than any other monster he'd faced. Still, Rory had felt good, solidly in control the entire time. Even the damage he'd taken had been within planned allowances.

"Oh, that reminds me."

A vial appeared in his hand, and Rory quickly drank it. Instantly, his body felt softer, but the draining effect, which had been wearing away at his vital lifeforce, ceased.

"Would have been a bad one to forget," Rory snorted. Still feeling good about himself, something interrupted his metaphorical patting of himself on the back. A flickering notification that seemed to demand his attention. Seeing no reason to ignore it, Rory let the notification expand into a display window.

Territory Alpha Vanquished

Total Area control acquired

Settlement qualities have been enhanced. Territory claims maximized. Bonus Settlement Perk and Decree earned.

"Well, isn't that damn nice?"

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