The labor camp descended into chaos. A warning alarm blew in the distance, Tyr had noticed things quicker than the rest but the wards should've reacted far sooner. He stormed off into what appeared to be flat and unoccupied land, leaping into the air and smashing his shovel against something of substance. A wide range illusion spell to shroud the sight. Strong enough that even Nala hadn't noticed it, and beyond it stood eight figures dressed in earthen tone cloaks, turning towards Tyr with looks of surprise on their faces.

Their identities were a mystery, but their origin was not, courtesy of the iron bull pins denoting them as servants of Baccia. Beyond them was a token force of more common soldiery. Men in Milanese dress, kettle helms and sturdy crossbows couched to their shoulders in preparation to fire.

Mercenaries.

“Why didn't the wards get tripped!?” Alex shouted before being assaulted by a hail of bolts. Just before hey reached her, Tyr was in motion – sucking in a massive quantity of air, turning his head and blowing a gale towards the projectiles that sent them wide.

The force here to ambush them had been there for some time judging by their level of preparation, stalking the periphery of the crater to find a target of actual value. Waiting for their opportunity to strike. That target most likely being herself, or Tyr.

“Titan!” He growled, a storm of silver energy enveloping a frame that burst to half again its own mass in an instant. Bringing him to nearly nine feet tall and shocking Alex by how smooth the transition had been. Full body transmutations were extremely difficult even for a practiced mage, only a specialist could do something like that, but without a casting time? It was absurd, there was a reason that transmutation was so uncommon among archmages. It wasn't as simple as making one's muscles stronger or denser, it was every individual component of the body. Bones, ligaments, cartilage, even their internal organs had to be carefully moderated during a change, an intimate understanding of human anatomy was necessary. Disturbing her thoughts were his slab-like hands. All happening within the span of a second, the two massive appendages clapping together with appropriately titanic force. No magic was necessary, the strength alone generated winds that tore across the ground and sent the next volley awry. Shooting off into the distance and tearing up the earth before him, leaving a chasm of shattered ground in its wake. “Activate the mana disruption arrays on the northwest, grid delta-3! Winston!”

Tyr's commands were concise and efficient, swiping his hands back and forth toward the incoming hail of projectiles as the eight figures stood motionless ahead. It gave Alex enough time to take stock, with Winston and her guards standing at Tyr's side on their hind legs and chattering away in their native tongue. A tongue he seemed to speak, somehow.

“Professor Kael!?” She cried, who else could that platinum blond hair belong to? It wasn't long before he removed his mask with a sigh and addressed her directly.

“None of us intend to hurt you, Alexis. Nor anyone else – we only come for him.” He pointed at Tyr, making their intentions known. But that same Tyr was already gone from his position, moving so quickly that the earth seemed intent to delay itself in shattering out of fear of his charge. His fist cracked against a mana barrier, shattering the first two layers and only barely stopped by the third, Kael himself showing a bit of fear having seen the speed and ferocity of the movement. Cracking through an arcane barrier generated by no less than two archmages, and supported by artifacts besides.

Not once did Tyr pause, slamming his fists in a rain to crush the final barrier and the woman Kael had stood beside less than a tenth of a second earlier. Pulverized, her sternum folding inward, body turned into an accordion and the rest of the corpse little more than a stain of red decorating the ground. If not for the amulet Hastur had given him, it would've been him that had perished rather than more easily replaced haemonculi.

Something to be thankful for, Kael had regretted his choice immediately, as it had been made for him – but he would fight for Amistad. Even if he'd been forced to do so by the Lady, it wasn't as if he disagreed with the sentiment that Tyr Faeron must be stopped. If ever there was a villain of there modern era, it was that madman, as saddened as Kael was to be party to the fall of a primus.

None of it made sense, though... A level five transmutation spell? Since when could he do that?

But...

“Betrayer.” Tyr hissed, rising up to his full height – he felt empty to the mages observing him, a vessel drained of water, this power he was using wasn't magic. Kael was ambiguously aware of the spira, but he didn't feel any reaction that would indicate Tyr's strength was anything but wholly natural. Nothing etheric about his power. “Your kind here are so weak and frail. Kneel and be granted clemency. I understand why you're doing this, but you will die if you stand against me. I do not wish to hurt you, child.”

...Child?

And that was true. Kael knew it, they all knew it was possible – if not a given. Tyr's power had once again gone through an incredible evolution, to the point where he was able to punch through barriers well capable of blocking a shot from a catapult. The problem was that the illusion array they'd hidden themselves under was a double edged sword, they could only see beyond it with divination – which meant mana detection. And Tyr had somehow managed to shroud his presence entirely, surprising them with his counter, to add to what was sure to be a day full of such surprises. Hastur, though, he was a man that had redundancies for his redundancies, a never ending list of schemes all wrapping back onto one another, until even the smallest component of the 'real' plan was inconceivable.

More than a charging rhino, Tyr was like an elephant let loose on the battlefield. Tall and menacing as the crossbows harried him, alloyed bolts shattering against his skin as though it too were made of metal.

But Kael wasn't the weapon, he was just the guise by which they could enter the clever barrier Tyr had constructed around the crater. After all, these wards were meant to deactivate in the presence of a registered official so as to act as a safeguard for the unaware.

“Now!” Kael shouted, frantically backing away from the giant before him, replaced by a woman with a wicked dagger in each hand. Hastur had collected quite the group of adepts and this one was no different. This 'one'. She was alone as of yet, all six remaining haemonculi were hers, every cycle of the moon Hastur reached further towards perfection with his constructs. Something that frightened Kael, thinking what a group of immortal psychopaths was capable of – possibly more than Tyr himself.

Was the devil you knew truly better? He had his doubts, but his life had not been his own for many years.

“Pit Viper!” She cried, activating all of her enchanted gear at once to land a precise blow on Tyr's neck, opening him up it up in a spray of crimson. Tyr simply stared at her imperiously, catching her by the throat after the third cut and crushing it with enough force to nearly remove the head. Followed up by a storm of slaps that turned the rest of them to bloody mist. A flailing blur, that's all it was, and they were gone in less than a second.

Primus.

The air pressure alone enough to concuss their brains to mush and send their mulched bodies rolling away. A bit more gentle with Kael however, simply chopping him at the knee to ensure he could not run, the joint cracking the wrong way to elicit a hail of agonized screams. It had taken a grand total of two or three seconds, and it was over. Tyr had used barely any magic at all, except for his finely tuned and miraculous 'transmutation' of which Kael couldn't divine. Just strength, unbridled, unequaled physical ability. Kael stared up at him with quaking fear, rapidly pressing his thumb to the raised mechanism built into an enchanted coin.

What the fuck did you get me into!?

Tyr slapped the man gently, like a child. Nothing about his calm expression betrayed anger, only easygoing contemplation of circumstance. Lowering himself down onto his haunches, one of his boots pressed to the crushed ankle of the surprisingly not-so-dead woman that was busy trying to drag herself away with pained groans. His wounds already healed, only the blood drenching his shirt a sign any injury had parted his hide. “Just give it up. Honestly I'm a bit surprised, aren't you supposed to be pretty strong around these parts? Arch... Archmage, correct? What class are you?”

“Never.” Kael spat, biting back the fear and actually spitting into Tyr's face. The latter didn't seem to care, letting the bloody phlegm hang there while he observed the significantly smaller man beneath him. David and Goliath, and Kael had been caught without a slingshot, forced to observe yet again how Tyr had managed to so quickly come to a point where he was irrelevant in comparison.

Hastur had not been honest about the ease by which they could 'make contact with a weaker and suppressed Tyr Faeron'.

“It's treason, then.” Tyr clucked his tongue, though for some reason he suddenly began to laugh. “Sorry, I've always wanted to say that. Listen kid, if you want to tussle we can do it right now, in a proper arena, or I'll paint your back porch red in the comfort of your own home. Don't matter none, but you're on the wrong side of things here. Even if your heart's in the right place, you're missing the bigger picture, I reckon. And now you're alone, you wouldn't have that problem if you were on my side.”

...Kid?

“Alone? Hardly.” A thunderous cracking and a burst of wind, an azure window splitting the air. A dimensional gate opening and a vicious maul shooting through it, careening toward Tyr's head. Not so much as bothering to glance in the direction of the portal, Tyr reached his hand out to catch the blunt instrument, thrown back and dragged through the earth in the process. A bit more than he'd bargained for, there was some kind of shock-wave effect in that attack that had caught him off guard. But not damaged, his body would give a block of red-granite a run for its money, and his flexibility was just as well to contrast the hardness of his flesh.

Built to take a beating.

“Sorry we're late, disruption wards and all that, thankfully we were able to push through – but it took most of Penny's mana.” Rommel arrived, vivid blue hair dancing in the wind, nodding respectfully to Alex and killing the injured woman on the ground without hesitation. Alex was taken aback by the display, but the raccoons didn't seem to mind. It wasn't the entry of these somewhat familiar faces that disturbed her, it was the fact that many more familiar faces were present. Including more than a handful of the archmages that had sworn oaths of moment to Tyr with a twelve month retainer.

“Even you...?” Alex remarked softly, feeling bile rise up in her gut when she saw Leda among their numbers. Urden, Wilhelm, Kael, Goroshi, several impressive looking warriors that could either be hedge paladins or adventurers, and last but certainly not least – Aurelius. Tyr rose slowly, rolling his shoulders after being flung across the ground and drawing a fearsome and unfamiliar axe from thin air. In lieu of his customary sword. It didn't appear to be auronite, the metal was dark gray, veined in gold all culminating in an unblinking silver eye at the center of its impressively large head. Alex felt her gums itch just looking at it, not recognizing the build of the artifact in the slightest.

Nor did it register any mana signature, and yet she could feel the wild power within.

“This is the worst ambush I've ever seen...” Nala mused from the side, eyebrow raised and defiant. She wasn't much of a fighter, but that's what life was like when the centuries stretched on and the competition was so slim, not very interested in the brawls that humans so favored. At least it served to shake things up a bit, the minutia of the stateswoman didn't exactly thrill her.

Micah cleared his throat and grimaced, feeling the downy hairs at the back of his neck rise with goosebumps. Blunt, yes, but idiotic? Not in the slightest. They no longer left the relative safety of the basin except on rare occasions. There was that, and the fact that this group had managed to deactivate all the wards in the area, somehow disarming them with impossible speed. Likely courtesy of Professor Wilhelm, one of the most renowned wardsmiths in all the kingdoms. He might have designed them himself, actually, planning this all from the very beginning...

“We should go, Alex.” He said. “This is beyond us, we can't fight a hero and two archmages – even forgetting the others.”

“But things were just getting interesting!” Aurelius laughed heartily, an edge to his voice that evoked thoughts of spoiled meat and a slow death by shallow cuts. Even for all his handsomeness, he was a truly repugnant man – every intonation of his voice a hiss like that of a viper. Golden eyes staring lasciviously at Alex, clearly in a bid to bait a response. “Flee all you'd like, cripple, but the girl remains behind. She'll make a fine addition to my collection.”

“Hmm...” Tyr released his axe and crossed his arms, making no movements otherwise – the blade dropping a few inches before whirling around him in independent orbit. With some unspoken communication, the raccoons chattered, nodding at him and vanishing from the field with a dull popping sound. “I would advise you not to pipe up to me, boy. You might be strong here, but I am kin to a dozen men that could slap you silly. A so-called hero can't save his own hide by fleeing into a replacement body like your friends here. Those who would ruin their enhancement level for conditional resurrection and a minute rise in power...” He spat on the ground, grimacing at them in disgust, whatever all of that just meant. Apparently it wasn't a very smart idea to become a haemonculi, by the sounds of it...

What is he talking about?

“This isn't what we signed up for.” Wilhelm asserted, angrily pointing at the hero. “You said all we had to do was make sure they got past the wards and you would incapacitate and imprison the lad for his crimes, I won't allow you to bring harm to my student--” In the process of the words leaving his mouth, Aurelius cut him off with a vicious backhand and a horrifyingly loud crack, sending Wilhelm flying. Barely alive, the hero had managed to hit such peak efficiency with the blow that he's shattered three shields and two emitter artifacts with a casual waving of his hand. Perhaps he would've died, but Tyr, now in two places at once, managed to catch the older man. Gently lowering him to the ground and inserting an unknown green capsule into Wilhelm's mouth, before the mirrored image of Tyr vanished as well.

“Well said, elder. I only recognize a handful of you, but I am perplexed. The betrayal, 'we' saw coming, and I get it – the whole 'death to the tyrant' thing. I reckon that's not so bad, never been a fan of them myself, everybody knows democracy is a superior form of governance. But the plan you've concocted, if you even call it that, I just don't understand. You can't kill us, we're immortal, so why?”

We? Alex wasn't sure who he was talking about – but Tyr was always so confident. She certainly wasn't immortal, and she certainly hadn't seen a betrayal of this magnitude in the wings.

Tyr tilted his head in askance, still rather calm given the circumstances involved. But he was like that sometimes, he didn't often display passion or human characteristics that might be considered normal. Alex had only seen him act so normal once, and it was when he'd led the defense of Amistad during Hastur's first assault. His face now was calm, gentle, and kind – even as he stared at obvious enemies. It was his unbridled confidence that allowed them to anchor the place with a domain so that none might leave, courtesy of a small woman with curly hair. Penny was her name, so short that if Leda hadn't been there to serve as a comparison, the others might've thought her a halfling.

“That's a good question, brother.” Rommel reached into the still-open gate and dragged out a lithe woman in the process of vomiting black torrents of filth all over herself. “Why isn't he disabled, Vermire?”

“Not enough... T-time...” The woman hacked again. “Caught me before I could, ugh... Before I could finish. Hold him down and I'll do it, I told you this was stupid! I usually only go after targets when they're at rest...”

But he never slept. A typical assassination plot just wasn't in the cards for them. And now, the plan they'd concocted was bust. Rommel had estimated for Tyr's fast and aggressive evocation, not transmutation and the apparent ability to shadowstep. That is to say he could manifest temporary afterimages so as to appear as more than one person, cloning techniques not very common in the modern age, due to the energy expenditure weighed against efficacy.

“Hold him down...?” Kael balked. Tyr looked... No, he was larger than before, a great deal more. Disregarding his obvious and newly revealed talent in transmutation, his body wasn't so slim or athletic, it was bulky and well tanned from working long hours under the hot sun. He'd already been a bull with enough force to put Kael's enhancement magic under strain in a direct clash, now? With magic to enhance him as well? Or... Whatever that was, Kael still hadn't felt a lick of mana coming from Tyr at any point. Which meant he had developed yet further on his path as a mage. The alternative, relating to his primacy, wasn't something any of them were likely keen on studying. That was a kind of mercilessness that Kael didn't think the gods were capable of, though, for Tyr to awaken at some point when they hadn't been looking. In a long distance fight he'd be confident against most opponents, but the man was breaking the sound barrier through no more effort besides a flicking of his fingers or waving of his hands.

“Tyr?” Alex turned, edging around his wide back. He was still in his 'form', a literal giant staring down at the tiny men before him, either unaware or unconcerned with the mana expenditure anyone else would feel. The workers were gone and Nala changed to her lithe humanoid body, but she wasn't attacking either for whatever reason. Rather contenting herself with sniffing at the air, a strange look on her face. “What's happening to your neck?”

“Reckon I'd like to know myself.” Tyr said, reaching a finger up to the slash at his throat that had opened back up and begun to writhe unnaturally. “It's poison, sure enough, which is smart. I've only ever had a few physical vulnerabilities, and that is certainly one of them. Thing is, it's so weak. Curse magic?” He turned toward the woman with the knives, flicking his finger with enough force to generate a projectile of air, blowing the mask off of her head without bring harm to her. Again, more within Alex's notice this time, there was absolutely no mana present in the insane display. Considering the fact that it wasn't within the realms of physics to see such a thing done through raw might, it was somewhat confusing.

“You injected me with your own blood...” Tyr frowned in disgust, seemingly not requiring an answer. “Clever girl, but that's a bit... Unsanitary – no?”

There must've been something, some reason why they all felt so comfortable and self assured. Aurelius simply stared, and the eyes of those Fingers present betrayed only a modicum of surprise that he was still standing. And Alex knew why, telurian blood was one of the most virulent toxins in the known world. Only to humans though, making half breeds extremely rare cases between the two races. If it were possible at all without magical aid during the pregnancy. A drop of their blood was more potent than a gallon of viper venom. Long ago, the wars between ancient Teluria and the early nations of the southern continent were started due to a concerted operation to harvest said blood. Assyrian Hashashin were famed for coating their weapons with it, and more for just utilizing it as in the arts of assassination.

First as a poison, then as an insanely effective opiate when refined via alchemy. Depending on how it was processed, it was either a painful death or a pleasant adventure of the mind with no addictive properties. Or so they claimed, Alex had never known anyone in her various circles to partake in the profligacy of the pipe.

Tyr had clearly taken a great deal of it into him courtesy of those knives, with their smooth channels from handle to tip, but he seemed fine other than his body's apparent attempts to expel it. Weeping purple and blue along with the more human red, pouring down his neck. He was calm, though sweating bullets of viscous liquid from his exposed arms and face. Physically though, he was just as quick as before, taking their lack of answer for an invitation to stomp forward and slam his boot into the face of an unsuspecting Aurelius.

The 'hero' skipped across the ground like a stone loosed over the still waters of a lake. Bouncing away a dozen meters before skidding to a stop. Not injured, but sufficiently reminded that there was a reason they'd brought more than just he alone to this place.

Tyr's booming, genuine laugh of amusement sealed the seal in securing his ire.

“Kill the bastard!”