Battle against Malachros

A hush gripped the shattered hall, dust swirling in the ghostly half-light as the newly formed gryphon stretched its wings to their full span. Its feathers glimmered with an uncanny radiance, a lingering echo of the Itharim's influence. Facing it in a swirl of black and crimson energy was the malignant fragment of Malachros, raging just above the collapsed altar. Stone shards floated in midair, caught between the conflicting auras of light and darkness.

Benjamin coughed raggedly, leaning against a fallen column. His entire body still trembled from the transformation he had helped enact—sacrificing part of his life-force to reshape Atty into this majestic form. Even from here, across the rubble and swirling motes of debris, he could sense the gryphon's aura. It thrummed in his mind, a tenuous bond that pulsed like a second heartbeat.

Malachros snarled, the shapeless swirl of gloom condensing into tendrils that lashed out at the walls and floor. "Foul abomination," the voice hissed. "You believe you can defy me with such a conjuration? Khial's laws do not acknowledge your kind."

The gryphon replied with a fierce cry that reverberated in the high-vaulted space, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the few pillars still standing. It was a call of challenge, rife with an unearthly timbre that dared Malachros to bring his worst.

Above, more stones broke loose from the battered ceiling, plummeting into the half-collapsed corners. The entire dungeon seemed on the brink of collapse. But the moment of stalemate ended as the swirling darkness that was Malachros abruptly recoiled, then surged outward as if summoned from beyond. Benjamin's eyes widened when he heard a chorus of screeches echo through the corridor behind him, multiplied and frenzied.

"The Tyrans," he breathed, struggling to steady himself. He'd seen how the monstrous birds fled when Malachros first took control of Benjamin's body, but apparently the entity could do more than instill terror. It could summon them, perhaps even dominate them fully.

Sure enough, silhouettes darted at the threshold of the hall: half a dozen Tyrans, their fur and wings shimmering with a sickly blackish sheen that marked them as already touched by corruption. They crowded into the chamber, shrieking in hideous cacophony. The newly formed gryphon whipped its head around, letting out another resonant cry. A flicker of golden energy lit the feathers at the edges of its wings as it braced for combat.

Benjamin tried to push off the rubble and stand upright. His limbs felt weighted by lead. I have to help, he told himself, heart pounding. But before he could muster the strength, the hexahedron—a fractal chunk of stone still swirling with malicious energy—floated forward, exuding fresh pulses of darkness. One of the Tyrans, larger and scarred from countless prior battles, stepped forward, letting out a throaty growl as it crouched, eyes locked on the artifact.

Malachros's voice boomed, "Yes… you will suffice!" The swirling fragment rushed into the Tyran's skull with a sickening crack, fusing as though the bone and fur parted to accept it. A wave of obsidian corruption rippled across the creature's body, warping it yet further. Spines erupted from the Tyran's back, and its beak elongated in a twisted scythe shape. Its eyes flared with red-black light, possessed by Malachros's intelligence.

The other Tyrans fanned out around this monstrous alpha, screeching louder, almost frantic with savage devotion or fear. The possessed Tyran flexed its wings, the artifact's glow shining ominously through the fur on its forehead as it advanced on the gryphon. "Now," Malachros thundered, "let us see this so-called champion bleed."

The gryphon responded, surging forward with a flap of its powerful wings. The gust alone sent dust and debris rolling across the floor. It and the possessed Tyran met in a crash of talons and beak, their impacts echoing through the cavernous hall. Sparks of black lightning and golden fire arced and collided. The lesser Tyrans hung back at first, almost cowering, but at Malachros's mental lash, they lunged in, snapping and clawing for an opening.

A savage melee ensued. The gryphon twisted, raking one Tyran's flank with its leonine claws and sending it tumbling into a pile of rubble. Another lunged from behind, only to be slammed aside by a powerful wing buffet. Still, the alpha Tyran controlled by Malachros seized the opening. With a snarl, it sank its warped beak into the gryphon's shoulder, drawing out a spurt of shimmering, almost incandescent ichor.

A pained screech tore from the gryphon's throat, reverberating across the hall. It battered the alpha Tyran's face with its foreclaws, but the monstrous bird refused to let go, twisting deeper. The lesser Tyrans rallied around their master, harrying the gryphon's flanks in a flurry of savage bites.

Benjamin, forced to watch from a distance, felt a flood of panic. It's too many, he realized. The new creature, for all its majesty, was outnumbered. Unwilling to remain idle, he forced his protesting body to move, stumbling forward over the fractured stone. Every step hurt, jostling bruised ribs and an exhaustion so deep it dulled his senses. Yet seeing the gryphon's distress fueled him beyond reason.

He reached the melee just as the gryphon managed to hurl the alpha Tyran off, letting out a roar of triumph. However, the lesser beasts assailed it from all sides, biting at its hindquarters and wings. Feathers spattered across the floor, each marked with glints of golden energy. The alpha Tyran, half of its face a pulsing black mass with the embedded artifact's glow, quickly righted itself and lunged again, talons raking the gryphon's flank.

"Hang on!" Benjamin shouted, voice cracking as he closed the distance. The noise caught the attention of a smaller Tyran, which whirled on him with a hissing screech. He had no weapon aside from a broken length of stone he grabbed from the debris. The Tyran lunged, beak snapping. Benjamin swung the rock in desperation, clipping the creature's jaw. Though the blow carried little real force, the Tyran recoiled as if startled, giving him enough time to duck under its wing and scramble closer to the central fight.

He saw the gryphon rear up, its front talons blazing with an opalescent aura as they collided with the alpha Tyran's chest. This time, the monstrous bird stumbled back, dark fluid seeping from cracks in its fur and scales. Malachros let out a rasping, inhuman roar through the host's parted beak. "You will not deny me, filth."

Yet despite the gryphon's brief advantage, the flurry of lesser Tyrans pounced again. One latched onto the gryphon's wing. Another jumped onto its back, pecking furiously at the base of its neck. The majestic beast teetered under the combined weight, forced to the side as it whirled in an attempt to dislodge them.

That's when Benjamin knew he had to act. The memory of synergy with Atty flashed through his mind. If the gryphon indeed carried Atty's spirit, perhaps his presence could tip the scales. Summoning the last dredges of stamina, he sprinted to the gryphon's side, ignoring the smaller Tyrans that shrank back from the glowing aura or from the memory of Malachros's presence that still clung to Benjamin.

"Get off!" he yelled, clambering onto a broken piece of stone that gave him enough height to leap onto the gryphon's flank. His arms grasped around the base of its neck, near the battered wing-joint. The creature staggered with the new weight, letting out a short, startled cry, but quickly stilled as if recognizing him. In that instant of closeness, an electric jolt ran through Benjamin's body, familiar yet alien: the synergy that had once linked him and Atty in that old mental connection, but magnified.

As Benjamin pressed his forehead to the gryphon's neck, he forced himself to recall how it felt to connect with the Attush's mind. The swirl of primal instincts, warmth, trust. "You're still in there, Atty," he whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "Let me in again—let's do this together."

The bond ignited. A flood of impressions slammed into him. He felt the gryphon's pain, the rent in its shoulder, the burning ache of pinned feathers. But beneath that suffering was a fierce will—a defiance that shimmered with Itharim grace. This is me, it seemed to say, but also I am you.

Adrenaline surged in Benjamin's veins, and a wave of ephemeral golden light burst from where his hands touched the gryphon's feathers. It rippled across the battered wings, forcing the lesser Tyrans to recoil. The alpha Tyran hopped back as well, shrieking in surprise.

Within that shared consciousness, Benjamin glimpsed a hazy mental landscape: swirling colors, fragments of memory. He saw Atty's old shape bounding across the floor of Kareya's library, saw himself reading in the sanctuary, saw flashes of a glimmering star-laced horizon that might have been the vantage of an Itharim. It was as if the energies bound up in the gryphon's creation had fused with Atty's loyalty and turned it into raw potential.

Outside, the lesser Tyrans regrouped, but the synergy was no longer so easily assailable. Benjamin could feel the gryphon's instincts guiding him to twist the beast's torso, bringing a wing up to batter the nearest attacker. One Tyran was flung into a toppled pillar, and it crumpled with a pained squeal. Another tried to lunge from the side, only to be met by the gryphon's snapping beak.

In swift, coordinated movements, they whirled on the alpha Tyran, who was already launching another savage rush. The hexahedron's jagged glow shone through the bird's skull, and Malachros's voice reverberated. "I will break you both and tear your souls apart!"

But the synergy was potent. With Benjamin's will fused into the gryphon's reflexes, they anticipated the alpha's angle of attack. The alpha Tyran's wing beat created a gust of foul-smelling wind, but the gryphon leaped upward to meet it in midair. Lion-claws raked across the alpha's chest, while the beak snapped at the artifact embedded in the creature's head.

Black lightning arced from the artifact, trying to repel them, but golden luminescence from the synergy clashed with it in a sputtering shower of sparks. The alpha Tyran shrieked, forced backward. Malachros howled in fury, commanding the lesser Tyrans to swarm again. A few still had the nerve to obey, but the synergy-fueled gryphon lashed out, dispatching them with slashes of wing and furious roars that hammered the hall like thunder.

Exhaustion tugged at Benjamin's body, but the bond seemed to compensate, letting him tap into the gryphon's formidable stamina. His vision blurred at the edges, half-lost in the swirl of combat. In a final surge, they cornered the alpha Tyran against a fractured wall. The creature tried to flap free, but the gryphon pinned its wing. Sparks flared as black and gold energies warred at the point of contact.

Benjamin inhaled sharply, focusing on that negative swirl in the alpha's head: the embedded shard. If only they could tear it free…

Yet Malachros seemed to sense the lethal threat. The alpha Tyran unleashed a wave of raw corruption—a roiling explosion of blackish flame that crashed into the gryphon's chest. The impact sent them both skidding across the debris-strewn floor. Benjamin gritted his teeth, clinging to the gryphon's neck as he felt the scorching jolt pass through him.

But even that final effort wasn't enough to overcome their synergy. The gryphon rebounded, letting out a piercing shriek. It charged forward one last time, golden energy blazing around its claws. With a thunderous blow, it slashed the alpha Tyran's face, nearly dislodging the shard from its skull. A shockwave rippled outward, knocking aside the last two lesser Tyrans, who collapsed unconscious in the rubble.

Malachros's enraged bellow reverberated in the hall, distorting the air with a painful resonance. No, no, no… I will not be undone by a half-made beast and a worthless mortal! The alpha Tyran's body convulsed. Black streaks dripped from its fur, as if the creature were liquefying from within. Furious arcs of red-black lightning shot in all directions, gouging fresh scars into the stone walls.

Benjamin felt a sudden dread. He's about to do something drastic. Even the gryphon braced, lowering its torso, feathers bristling.

In a blaze of violent energy, the alpha Tyran erupted with a savage shockwave. The force knocked the gryphon sideways, throwing Benjamin off. He tumbled across the floor, pain exploding in his limbs. A swirling maelstrom of gloom enveloped the alpha Tyran's entire body, and the voice of Malachros screamed—half in fury, half in despair.

Then everything went momentarily still. The gloom condensed into a scorching black sphere that hovered around the artifact. The Tyran's body disintegrated into dust and charred flesh, leaving only the shard afloat in the center of the swirling darkness. For a split second, red lines of energy crackled across the fractured hall, arcing from the floors and ceilings toward the artifact, like it was siphoning the dungeon's final vestiges of power.

Benjamin lay on his back, coughing, ears ringing from the assault. The gryphon limped a few paces away, one wing dragging. Its eyes were fierce but weary, flickering in sympathy with Benjamin's own exhaustion. At that moment, they shared a mutual dread: What's Malachros going to do now?

The answer came in a towering column of black light erupting from the artifact. It soared upward, punching straight through the dungeon's ceiling with a deafening roar. Shards of stone rained down, and the entire roof above them cracked in starburst patterns. The pillars around the hall crumbled fully, leaving only the swirling dust of an imminent collapse.

Malachros's voice, distorted and echoing, roared one final vow, "You have merely delayed me! When I return, all shall drown in my shadow!" Then the artifact, propelled by the beam of malevolent power, shot upward through the jagged hole. Its speed created a vortex that pulled debris in its wake, the rotating swirl of rock and dust forming a funnel around the exit.

Benjamin struggled to remain conscious, blinking away the haze. The swirling gloom vanished, leaving the hall eerily still once more. The lesser Tyrans lay unmoving, either dead or incapacitated. The alpha Tyran was gone, consumed by Malachros's last gambit, leaving only a black smear where it once stood.

The newly forged gryphon managed a shaky step toward Benjamin, its beak parted, panting like a cornered lion. A faint glimmer of recognition passed between them—a silent question: Are you all right?

Benjamin opened his mouth, trying to reassure the creature, but words failed him. The synergy had taxed him beyond his limits, and every muscle in his body felt like hot lead. A wave of dizziness crashed over him, and he sank to his knees, vision tunneling.

Stone chunks fell from above, and the entire hall groaned, on the verge of total collapse. The swirling dust made it hard to breathe. Benjamin forced his gaze to remain on the gryphon. In that final moment before unconsciousness, he thought he saw a sorrowful acceptance in its strange, shimmering eyes.

I'm… sorry… he tried to say, but no sound emerged. The environment dimmed, narrowing to a single point of light. He collapsed forward, arms slack, the stone floor rushing up to meet him. The last he saw was the gryphon rearing back to shield him from falling debris, a protective posture that reminded him so much of Atty's gentle loyalty. Then darkness claimed him.

And in that instant, as the dungeon trembled around him, the portal—still tethered to Benjamin—seized him in an unseen grip and yanked him violently back to the Academy's courtyard.