Headed by a Snake

The path to the Halls of the Dead Serpent was a rocky climb. The difficulty was moderate, at worst... but it did require time to navigate.

If the first encounter went poorly, upwards of 100 adventurers of the Brazen Guard collective would be funneled into that narrow escapeway. More likely, they would be forced off of the sheer cliff to crash into the white-water rapids below.

Tycondrius doubted even a Gold-Rank adventurer could survive the fall... without magical assistance, of course.

Tanamar had a skill that allowed him limited flight. Centurion Zenon Skyreaper and Athena Vanzano could levitate and (reasonably) glide with the aid of their magical abilities.

Gold-Rank Weaponmaster Bannok and Priestess Ariadne would likely drop like rocks. Hunter Felinus would probably fall... very gracefully.

Anyroad, the plan was... Hunter Felinus and Holy Lancer Tanamar, the strongest two ranged classes in the collective, would activate the temple defenses by defacing the Snake Cult mosaics. Once the Guardians were summoned, the two of them would evade their attacks, utilizing the massive sacrifice-boulders as cover... dragging the creatures as far as reasonably possible away from the temple doors.

There, the two separate close-combat groups would converge on their enemies, engage with them, and hopefully defeat them near-simultaneously.

The only issue was--

"--Boss..." Lone interrupted Tycon's thinking, in a rather rude and abrupt manner, "I uh... are you... are you okay with this plan?"

Tycon took a deep breath as he tried to hide his annoyance... "Why... wouldn't I be okay with it?"

"I uh... I dunno, but you look really upset," Lone grinned sheepishly.

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "This is my face. I always look upset."

"True," Lone relented. "But... this time, there's a... reason for you to be upset, right?"

Tycon chose not to respond.

There was, indeed, a reason.

Guild Letalis and the adventurers assigned to assist them were hiding in some of the greenery that grew rampant in the area.

The attack plan was deemed... the 'Hide-in-the-Bush Plan.'

Tycon did not like the Hide-in-the-Bush plan.

The Guardians of the temple likely did not even operate on vision-- perhaps using mana sense, like proper magical constructs... or tremor-sense... smell, even.

Utilizing the bushes for stealth was... stupid... Tycon highly doubted it would be effective, at all. Unfortunately, he had no alternative options to offer the Brazen Guard leadership. On top of that, such a precautionary measure had almost no drawbacks-- save Tycon's extreme vexation.

More troublesome was that he could not discern why that particular facet of the plan upset him.

"Sir Tycon..." On the side opposite Lone, a young woman wearing ivory-white armor nudged him with her elbow... "Do you need a hug?"

"No." Tycon glared at the blue-haired whelpling, "No, I do not."

"Ehehe... okay," Athena giggled, falling back into quietude.

A magically-boosted hiss resounded throughout the temple grounds, loud enough to thrum the ground beneath. Two Guardians had emerged, one following Felinus and the other, following Tanamar. The temple's defensive formation had formed the constructs entirely of mana and they took the appearance of Champions of the Snake Cult.

Human.

As they were not... real, the Guardians towered over the two ranged classes in the distance. As they approached, Tycon estimated their heights at about ten fulms...

However... their particular forms were... disturbing-- to Tycon, at least. Each Guardian was a... barefoot, scantily clad woman, their breasts wrapped in cloth, and a breechcloth covering their loins. Each wore a single shoulder pad on their right, and a chestguard on the left side of their chest...

They wielded two-handed swords that looked much too large for their frames.

They wore fantastic helmets, as well... interestingly, made in the design of a hooded cobra.

Hooded cobras were not native to Tyrion... the grammar and intonation of their Parseltongue was horrendous... and as much as Tycon wished to correct them for inaccuracy, the Guardians were not sentient beings.

As the creatures were mana constructs, their chosen attire likely had no effect on their resilience. Still, the thought of going without indefensible armor and inefficient weaponry annoyed Tycon to no end.

To an adventurer, a thin piece of leather could mean the difference between death and survival. Electing to go without was foolishness to the highest degree.

A half-second longer to swing a weapon was enough for an opponent's shorter weapon to slice a throat or stab a vital point. It was why Tycon preferred his short sword to his current weapon.

"SHOW US YOUR TITS!!!" An adventurer from Bannok's group shouted.

Tycon identified that voice as belonging to Cleric Occam... who had apparently recovered from his previous injuries enough to take part in the battle.

How was that man still alive?

"Grant me a few moments, will you..." Tycon sighed, leaving the 'concealment' of the bush.

"[SHALL I COME WITH YOU?]" Korr's too-loud voice echoed out of her full helmet.

"What? No. Stay in the bush."

"[...VERY WELL.]"

With Korr returning to the bush, Tycon walked forward. Placing his left hand against his waist, he flicked his right wrist... summoning the long curved blade, the Sword of Venom and its scabbard.

"SIR TYCON!! HOLLLD!!" Karodin of Fool-hold shouted abruptly.

Tycon turned back with a scowl, "WHAAAAT?!"

"Sir Tycon!!!!!" Karodin pouted, "Are-- are you going to get the monster's attention?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He growled.

"It looks like you're trying to get yourself killed!!" Karodin argued.

"Karodin, get back in the bush!" Duelist Ptolema scolded.

"Mister Karodin, we can trust in Sir Tycon!" Athena said breathily... slightly uncertain.

Tycon felt a vein on his forehead bulging in annoyance, "ALL OF YOU! Back in the bush!"

Lone pursed his lips... "Boss... I thought you hated the--"

"NOT NOW, MISTER LONE!!"

Their group's guardian was fast approaching, charging forward with rumbling steps... hissing inanely, like a child throwing a tantrum. Even the young Sasarame hadn't been so disobedient.

Tycon drew his curved sword out of the scabbard... "Now... how did this go, again?"

Closing his eyes, he concentrated his mana to circulate through the circuits he had his System map out prior. The process was laughably simple, like connecting dots on parchment with straight lines, ensuring that the flow was steady and uninterrupted. He then allowed his mana to seep outward... where it mixed in with the natural mana around him... empowering it... amplifying it... and willing it to grow violent to achieve his selfish ends.

Tycon clenched his teeth in a grin. The skill was ready to activate.

He slashed his blade forward at the oncoming heretic.

"⌈OROCHI NO KEN WO KURAE!!!!!⌋"