The Gate Guardian writhed in agony as Mele's arrow unleashed its inferno, flesh boiling and steaming beneath the searing flames. Normally, an arrow like this would have been enough to kill most Awakened Nightmare Creatures – unless they had some form of resistance to fire. But Lauri knew better. This would not be enough to slay the Gate Guardian.
Being only a Memory of the Awakened rank, the arrow lacked the raw power to fell something of the Fallen rank, let alone a Fallen Tyrant. That wasn't the only problem. The flames themselves weren't natural – instead, they were fueled by Mele's essence. Meaning every second the fire burned drained her, sapping more of the precious resource with each passing heartbeat.
Lauri's eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction. Despite the Tyrant's pained cries, its skin was already knitting itself back together, boiled flesh regenerating almost as fast as it was being scorched. The inferno screamed over the creature's body, but even that could not hold it down for long.
Exchanging glances, Lauri and Danse nodded to one another.
With everything said that needed saying.
Lauri and Danse moved.
They quickly closed the distance to the Gate Guardian. The flames from Mele's arrow sputtered, hissed and then vanished entirely as the duo rounded on the beast. The remnants of the fire-damaged skin were already showing signs of regrowth.
The men dashed to either side of the Tyrant, wanting to split its attention between them as was often the plan they employed when faced with a particularly dangerous Nightmare Creature. But the plan, unsurprisingly, failed horribly as the Tyrant immediately disregarded Danse's presence and turned to face Lauri.
'...Don't tell me it holds a grudge."
Lauri didn't have to wait long for an answer as the Tyrant raised one of its mighty arms – but unlike minutes earlier, Lauri was no longer fighting alone. A heavy arrow sank into the Tyrant's arm – its weight increasing exponentially as its enchantment was activated – dragging the limb to the ground. Danse threw himself forward, wildly cutting at the beast's undefended rear, for every single cut, a second appeared.
Not allowing this opportunity to pass him by, Lauri took this moment to draw on [Light's Edge], with his attention no longer fully occupied on surviving against impossible odds, Lauri could finally freely use his Aspect. A sword appeared above his shoulder – firing forward – it pierced into the Tyrant's chest.
But the Fallen Tyrant was far from defenceless. Its massive form shifted with terrifying speed, muscles coiling and snapping into place like steel cables. The blow barely staggered it; the fire in its eyes burned with unmatched intensity as it glared down at Lauri, full of primal fury, and it roared, the sound vibrating through the snow and into their bones. Even as Lauri's sword sank into its chest, the Tyrant's sheer size and power radiated an aura of unrelenting menace, a reminder that it was not a foe to be taken lightly even if it was outnumbered.
It moved forward, completely disregarding the weight of the arrow lodged in its arm.
Throwing its head forward, flecks of spit flew from the Tyrant's gaping maw as it caught Lauri's glaive between its teeth shattering the constructed weapon. Before the Tyrant could continue, Lauri clenched his fingers – burning a little essence – he slammed his fist into the Tyrant's head.
At the same time as Lauri's impromptu brawl, he outstretched his free hand, and blue sparks began to flow through the air, coalescing around Lauri's hand as he finally drew a weapon from his Soul Sea.
Jumping back from the Tyrant, Lauri stayed on the defensive as the Memory needed time to summon. Lauri tried to put some distance between himself and the Tyrant by forming barriers out of light to bar its path. But the walls barely slowed it down. It simply crashed through them as if they weren't even there.
Danse caught on immediately. Recognising what Lauri was doing, he tore into the Tyrant's back leg, shredding ligaments. Normally the wound would have been little more than a nuisance to a creature of its size. But when the same debilitating strike struck the opposite leg, the Tyrant staggered, finally tearing its attention away from Lauri.
As the Tyrant lunged toward Danse, massive jaws snapping and claws raking the air, the strange armour of living leaves that covered him stirred. The leaves shimmered and shifted, twisting into a dense, flickering veil that momentarily blurred the Tyrant's sight.
The creature recoiled, ears flicking, eyes narrowing as the sudden obstruction confused its aim, buying Danse a few seconds he dearly needed.
The Tyrant swung wildly in the cloud of leaves, thrashing in the vague direction of the faint scent of human souls that was oh so very close.
Danse was thrown aside as Lauri dashed into the swirling storm of leaves, sending him tumbling out of the way. The Tyrant's massive arm came crashing down, striking the exact spot where Danse had just been standing – now where Lauri found himself. Twisting his body, Lauri took the blow on his shoulder, the Tyrant's claws connecting with enough force to cut through Lauri's defences, shattering the light. The Tyrant's claws proceeded to tear through the white chitin that made up Lauri's right pauldron and dig into his shoulder.
Lauri instantly felt the pain as the claws cut into his skin; worse, he knew what this would mean. The sickly juices that dripped down the Tyrant's body had just come into contact with Lauri's body, slipping into his blood and coursing through his veins with insidious speed. Each pulse carried the contamination further, a creeping threat that was moments away from taking root and rotting Lauri's body from within.
Lauri was now literally only a few heartbeats away from death.
With his dwindling reserves of essence in mind, Lauri exhaled.
Light burst from out of Lauri's Soul Sea as [Well of Light] ignited his soul. Radiant light surged outward, searing through every vein, every fibre of his being. The tainted juices that had begun to poison him writhed and hissed as they were violently expunged from Lauri's body.
Lauri felt a weight land in his hand. The Memory had finally been summoned.
Glancing down, Lauri's eyes narrowed.
The Memory's name was [Hailrend] – a cutlass of lethal elegance. Its blade was forged from black ice, jagged and glinting faintly in the dim light. The handle, dark wood polished to a mirror sheen, ended in a steel knuckle guard that caught every flicker of the glow around it. Two enchantments ran through the weapon. The first granted protection from the cold – hardly relevant in the current chaos but the second was why Lauri had chosen this particular Memory.
Lauri lashed forward, driving [Hailrend] into the Tyrant's arm. The icy blade bit deep, and the flesh sizzled turning black as frostbite spread almost instantly, freezing the muscle and sinew beneath. The Tyrant recoiled, a guttural howl of pain and rage echoing across the battlefield.
Summoning [Hailrend] hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment choice – it was a calculated gamble from everything Lauri had learnt about the Tyrant since the fight had begun. Lauri had risked precious time calling forth the Memory, knowing that every second he spent doing so left him exposed to the Tyrant's overwhelming strength. But the cutlass was more than a weapon; it was a tool to turn the fight in his favour. Its ability to inflict debilitating frostbite could blunt the Tyrant's terrifying regenerative power, slowing the beast long enough for Lauri to exploit its moment of weakness.
"Danse!"
Lauri called for his ally as he swung at the Tyrant's arm again – this time from the opposite side. The icy cutlass bit deep into the Tyrant's arm, frostbite spreading instantly, creeping through flesh and sinew until it met the frozen wound from his first strike. The limb stiffened, ice spiderwebbing beneath the surface as the two points of cold fused into one crippling weakness.
Danse moved without hesitation. His greatsword crashed down the moment Lauri pulled back, slamming into the brittle, frost-ridden flesh. The Tyrant snarled, baring jagged fangs as it twisted to retaliate – but its counterattack was cut short as an arrow punched through its eye.
The interruption was all Danse needed.
With a roar, he drove his blade down again, burning his essence to empower the strike. Steel met the frozen limb and shattered it. Frostbitten flesh, bone, and ice exploded outward in a violent spray as the Tyrant's arm gave way under the combined force.
For the briefest instant, it seemed to end there.
Then the strike echoed.
The Tyrant's uninjured arm twitched, just slightly at first, as if something unseen had brushed against it. Then the limb jerked violently. The flesh rippled, buckling inward as though struck by an invisible hammer, fractures racing beneath the surface with sickening speed. Bone groaned, then cracked. The entire arm caved in on itself, collapsing under a blow that had never truly landed – no frostbite to weaken it, no wound to guide it, and yet it broke all the same, as if reality itself had decided the strike must be answered.
Unable to support its own weight now that both of its forearms had been broken, the Tyrant slumped forward, its face smashing into the frozen ground. Given time, the Fallen Tyrant would overcome the frostbite, it would regenerate its arms and go on to lead its pack of rotten hounds to kill and slaughter, when it reached the convoy, it would inflict death on an amazing scale.
But this future would never come to pass.
A radiant figure was reflected in the Gate Guardian's one remaining eye – it was Lauri, wreathed in golden, unwavering light that pushed back the suffocating darkness of the Antarctic night. In that frozen wasteland, where the world was nothing but shadows and storms, he burned like a beacon. His white armour gleamed, every edge catching the glow, his breath misting in the cold as his blade hung poised above the creature's skull.
For a fleeting moment, he looked like salvation itself. A hero, carved from light in a world that had forgotten what light was.
Then he struck.
[Hailrend] came down in a brutal arc, the icy blade punching through bone and into the Tyrant's brain. Frost spread instantly from the wound, jagged veins of ice racing through flesh – but the creature had endured such trauma before. Its body convulsed, but it did not fall.
So Lauri struck again.
And again.
Again.
And again.
Each blow shattered the silence of the frozen night, frost devoured what remained of the Tyrant's resistance. The figure in its eye did not hesitate – cold, relentless, a hero only in appearance.
Until finally, the Tyrant's laboured breathing fell quiet.
[You have slain a fallen tyrant, Foulblooded Alpha]
[You have received an Echo: Foulblooded Alpha]