Chapter 185: Tyler

The last of the floating empire’s lantern light faded above Tyler as he landed. He touched down the ground with barely a sound and looked around.

The battlefield stretched out in every direction. Broken siege, shattered shields and caster of guns.

Tyler stretched his arms over his head, cracked his neck, and started walking, hands in his pockets.

"Quiet place. Nice. Peaceful." He kicked a sword out of his way and it clanged off a wheel rim. "A bit gloomy, though. Needs some warmth."

He snapped his fingers.

"Black empire never seems to crease on their amusement. Who would have thought to create a floating island."

He had walked maybe ten minutes when he was jumped.

"Oh, come on," he sighed. "I just got here."

Figures rose from behind the rocks and trees. Twelve, then twenty, spreading into a half-circle. Their leader stepped forward, a broad man carrying an axe as long as Tyler was tall.

"Prince of Salvador empire," the leader rumbled. "Not a marked one, but it’s a plus."

"Yeah, I got that vibe from the lack of a welcome party." Tyler tilted his head. "Look, I’m just passing through. How about you step aside and nobody gets toasted?"

Laughter rippled through the people.

"Kill him."

They charged.

Tyler didn’t even take his hands out of his pockets. He just exhaled, and flame swelled into a ring that exploded outward in a wave. The first row of attackers hit it head-on and went flying, tumbling across the mud.

Three of them leapt at him from the sides. He kicked off the ground and shot upward, fire roaring from his heels, and the three collided where he’d been standing. From above, he flicked two fingers, and a spiral of flame rained down like a living whip, wrapping around two of them and slamming them into the dirt.

Arrows streaked up at him. Tyler rolled midair, almost bored, and the arrows turned to ash a foot from his body. "Seriously guys? Arrows? At a guy who burns things? Read the manual."

He dove. Fire trailed behind him, and he plowed straight through the archers’ line, scattering them like leaves. One tried to stab him from behind, and he ducked without looking, caught the man’s wrist, and flipped him over his shoulder.

"Too slow."

The leader roared and swung his massive axe in a wide arc. Tyler blocked it with a single forearm wreathed in flame. The blade glowed orange, then hot red, then softened and sagged like wax.

The leader stared at the dripping ruin of his weapon.

"Yeah," Tyler said, grinning. "That one’s on me. I’m too hot."

He caught the man’s face before he could move, and set it ablaze.

"Aaaaarrrrrgggggghhhhh!"

He released the man, and watched him run around the field, burning painfully slow.

The remaining soldiers stood frozen.

Tyler dusted off his hands and looked around at the dozen or so still standing. "So. Anyone else want to try? Or can I go back to my walk?"

He turned around to leave, but then paused and looked back at them.

"Hish...I just remembered. I can’t let you go. I need to make a good impression on black empire if I want to obtain the alliance contract paper."

They exchanged glances.

"Haaayyyy!"

With a burst of adrenaline, they charged at him. He didn’t move. He just let them get close enough, then fire erupted from every angle of his body, frying them all out.

As they wail in anguish, he was nodding.

"You know what my clothes are made out of? Anyone?" He glanced right and left. "Alright, I’ll say it. It’s made out of the skin of s rank creatures, solely to withstand the flames. Amazing right?"

He was met with screams.

"Right."

He turned around to leave, only to see a silhouette.

It was a man, but it took a moment to believe it. He stood nearly three heads taller than the soldiers, wrapped in plated armor the color of dried blood.

In one hand he carried a greatsword.

"Ah," Tyler said. "So you’re the welcome party. You know, you’re really tall."

In a sudden shift, the man was before him.

"...what."

The greatsword came down.

Tyler jumped, but the blade clipped his shoulder, and the impact sent him tumbling across the ground like a thrown doll. He rolled to his feet, hissing. His sleeve was sliced open, the skin underneath bruised.

"Okay. Ow." He flexed his arm. "That actually hurt."

He raised his head and the person was gone.

The general moved faster than anything that size should. Tyler barely got his arms up before a fist caught him in the ribs and lifted him off the ground. He crashed into a tree.

He coughed. Something tasted like iron flooded his tongue and dripped down the side of his lip.

The general walked forward to him.

Tyler pushed himself out of the wreckage and wiped his mouth. "Alright. I might actually die."

He clapped his hands together. The flame at his shoulder merged with the fire in his palms, and the air around him began to ripple. Heat rolled outward, enough to melt the snow of mud into steam. The ground cracked beneath his feet.

"Alright," he muttered.

He shot forward before the general could react, a streak of light, and slammed both fists into the man’s breastplate. The explosion sent the giant skidding back twenty feet, boots gouging the earth.

The armor on his chest glowed red. Smoke curled from the edges. But when the general looked down at it, he only laughed.

"Warm," he said. "Finally."

He swung again. Tyler dodged, spun, countered with a roundhouse wreathed in flame that cracked against the general’s helmet. The greatsword whistled past Tyler’s ear, taking a few strands of his hair and cutting a trench through the ground behind him.

They traded blows in a storm of sparks, fire against steel, Tyler flickering around him like a lit match in a hurricane.

The general caught Tyler’s wrist mid-strike.

"Got you."

Tyler looked down at the iron grip. "That’s what I wanted."

He released everything at once. Fire burst from every pore, from his hands, his chest, his boots. The blast tore the general’s grip loose and hurled both of them apart.

Tyler flew skyward, caught himself in the air, and hovered above the field, panting, burned along one arm, bleeding from his lip.

"Damn it." he laughed softly.

Then, he suddenly felt a presence that wasn’t there a second ago.

He turned around and saw a new figure, hovering right behind him.

"Shit—"

The second general didn’t even draw his weapon. A single backhand sent him through the wreckage, crashing down into the pile of scorched bodies and slamming against a rock. He hit his head and black out immediately.