Headed by a Snake

"[LEADER,]" Boomed Korr. "[REQUESTING PERMISSION TO KILL EVERYONE HERE.]"

The enchantments on Korr's helmet made her sound... far more intimidating than if she was speaking with her regular voice. At the same time, her hateful, sentient sword bristled with light and heat-- anticipating the battle to come.

Extreme violence was an endeavor in which both Korr and Shahram excelled.

"Permission denied," Tycon waved.

It was a good plan-- and one he would certainly keep in mind. However...

"Our position is advantageous," He said. "Let's see what our... newest companions have to say."

Korr slowly tilted her head to the side... but she nodded as if she understood.

In the last few minutes, she and Krysaos had shown their magical capability as both overwhelming and violent. It was was clear that Tycon's side was stronger despite the enemy's numerical advantage.

Tycon stepped forward, capturing the attention of everyone present.

"Good morning, ladies, gentlemen... et cetera.

"It has come to my attention that your various factions have grievances with either myself or my companions...

"Therefore, I invite you to come forward in an orderly fashion, where we will come to agreement in the manner of your choosing."

Krysaos stepped forward to whisper in Tycon's ear, "Whaddya mean, orderly fashion, LT? These guys all showed up with bad intentions."

Korr approached Tycon's opposite side.

She provided no verbal explanation to her actions.

Perhaps... she just wanted to feel included?

Tycon nodded to acknowledge her, then turned to his god-woken companion.

"Krysaos, not including the group of corpses still cycling in your... death sphere overhead, the enemy group comprises five easily distinguishable factions. Look to their national origin, their attire, and-- most telling, how they've naturally segregated themselves."

Krysaos still wasn't satisfied.

"But won't it be a problem if they group up and try to focus us down?"

"They won't," Tycon assured him.

The fact that he'd invited the separate factions to approach was intentional.

The enemies of Sol Invictus had come for him, bound by a contract of sorts.

It would be tactically sound for them to forego their pride in their individual organizations and unite against a common enemy.

That they would was unlikely, especially after Tycon's provocation.

There was more fear in the crowd than hatred.

Hatred allowed the snake factions to unite against the sky lizards.

Human collaborations only formed out of greed, for wealth or for power... or something of the like.

--or so Tycon thought.

"You'll PAY for what you've done, you scallywag bastards!" Shouted one of the humans.

Revenge was also a powerful motivator.

⟬ Iron-Rank Human Hydromancer. ⟭

It was one of the blue-robed mages that attacked him earlier. He and his pair shared many similarities, not just in their attire, but in their mana signature, build, and facial features.

Tycon wanted to assume they were closely related... but he was aware that he often had difficulty in telling humans apart.

"These people came to Saltspray Island," the fellow went on, "and they showed no mercy! They murdered hundreds, that sun! The men, the women-- even the children!"

"By my suspenders," Krysaos cursed... "You were the one that wiped out the Saltsprays, LT?"

"I was reinforcing a Royal Marine Fleet at the time," Tycon replied calmly. "I can't take all the credit but I played a large part in the operation."

One of his many titles was an honorary Lieutenant in the Kingdom's Navy. The successful assault on the Saltspray pirates on their island base was one of his favorite achievements.

"And did'ja really kill a bunch o' kids?"

"Hm. I don't believe I did... not directly, anyroad."

"[I WAS NOT THERE,]" Korr added. "[BUT NOT ALL CHILDREN ARE GOOD.]"

Tycon and Krysaos simultaneously turned to face her.

Korr... was not wrong, but the timing of such a statement was grossly inappropriate.

"ENOUGH!!!" The Saltspray gentleman roared. "Dissolve your contracts if you want, you land-loving shites! We'll get revenge ON OUR OWN!!"

At that, he and his similarly-dressed companion-- also an Iron-Rank Hydromancer, began to channel their mana into... a medium-scale spell of surprising power.

Tycon raised an eyebrow.

A practiced Iron-Rank Mage could consistently cast Second-Circle Spells with regularity.

If a series of conditions were met-- one of the methods being synchronized Spellcasting, the execution of a Third-Circle Spell was plausible.

Still... their efforts would bear no fruit. The attack was of the same level as the one earlier-- something that Korr could apparently dispel with her bare hands.

However... Korr made no motion to move.

Tycon slowly craned his head to his opposite side.

Krysaos was wearing his iconic grin.

It was a vulgar, unapologetic smile... as if he were discovered in the process of eating a stolen roast, glistening juices of fat shining on his teeth.

Tycon sensed two nigh-simultaneous bursts occurring to the side.

The sounds were... most unpleasant: viscous pops; two sacks of mana-saturated flesh forcibly torn apart.

Turning back to the two Hydromancers... Tycon saw that they had fallen onto the cobblestone road. Blood and water ran freely from their eyes, ears, and mouths.

They were, quite obviously, dead.

And, where most would hold a modicum of respect for the fact... none of that respect was to be found in Captain Krysaos.

"They-- haha! They EXPLODED!! HAHAHA!!" He laughed, leaning over and clutching his belly. "Just-- jus' a little bit of mana and BOOM!!"

Tycon narrowed his eyes.

"That, Brother-Captain, is the *expected* result of a Mage absorbing mana two circles higher and with in-com-parably higher purity than can be expected of their Metal-Rank."

In as long as Tycon had known Krysaos, the man had done just that on several occasions. That he had both survived and grown stronger for it was not a testament to his strength. It was miraculous; a defiance of natural Law; luck so extraordinary and inordinate it felt insulting.

"The f*ck?" Krysaos grimaced. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Oh... shite. So I could've-- that could've been..."

Tycon shook his head. Krysaos was an anomaly whose body could process the mana of a literal god while avoiding spontaneous combustion.

It seemed that observing the effects of his mana on regular humans allowed him to comprehend the insanity of his prior actions.

"LT," Krysaos groaned, "I... I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Hold your bearing, Brother," Tycon rolled his eyes. "No one here alive cares for your regrets-- nor your apologies, if any."

53 enemies remained... and surprisingly, 6 of them began to approach.

It was a group of five men and one woman, all wearing expensive sets of darkmetal armor and vibrant crimson capes.

The male in front wore thicker plate, the segmented joints of which moved more fluidly than those of his companions. If it was not enchanted, then the engineering of it implied that much more coin invested in its make.

⟬ Gold-Rank Human Knight-Champion. ⟭

The six all moved their hands to their waists, causing both Krysaos and Korr to reach for their own weapons.

Tycon gestured for the two to stop... just as the six knights grabbed their weapon belts and rotated them to the opposite side.

It was a sign of non-aggression. Weapon belts repositioned to a warrior's off-hand side were troublesome to draw.

Tycon was facing the most dangerous faction on the field, a squad of veteran combatants, practiced and professional. Their defensive and offensive equipment were well-maintained and likely lined with enchantment runes. Further, their leader was of a similar Metal-Rank to himself.

That man's rank, his squad's observable coordination, and the series of variables introduced via their complementary magical equipment posed a respectable threat to Tycon and his own group.

However, they had also just born witness to two of their moderately-powerful allies falling dead with very little information on how or why that was.

That allowed Tycon to act with a reasonable amount of arrogance.

"Are you supposed to be someone of importance?" He asked.

"No, Sir," The man replied without hesitation.

Tycon narrowed his eyes. The man was clearly an important individual in his organization. That he could remain humble, despite, was... odd.

If it was due to a good sense of preservation, Tycon could respect that.

The Knight lifted his gauntleted hand, revealing a leather scroll tube.

"A delivery from House Whisperwind."

...Tycon carefully received the item... scrutinizing both item and item-deliverer for any sign of duplicity.

He found none.

"You are... less Elven than I've come to expect from House Whisperwind's messengers," Tycon remarked.

"Yeah-- I've been getting that a lot," The man smiled politely. "My wife's the *actual* messenger-- but she just gave birth to our second child and uh-- my father-in-law told me to make myself useful."

"...Congratulations."

"Oh, can I get your signature here? Sir?"

Tycon signed the receipt. He provided a few silver coins for tip-- as was customary for the region. Then, with their business concluded, the gentleman and his squad withdrew from the field.

Krysaos stared at the capes of the departing group... "That was weird as f*ck."

"[TRUE LOVE HAS NO BOUNDARIES,]" Korr insisted.

"No, not that-- just... bah. Whatever..."