Headed by a Snake

The Corallidae were officially part of the Magic Kingdom's Navy.

Zhevra was privy to the fact-- the Wizard had files collected on all notable personalities in the crew of Neptune's Revenge.

...She had honestly forgotten. The information was useless since her marks were in the Eastern States, well outside of their jurisdiction.

Still... Stickyfingers was a professional killer, trained by a proper institution.

Perhaps that was why he knew how to treat a woman with a modicum of respect.

"Of course it was still loaded," She snorted. "We are still in combat zone."

The pale Corallidus offered the haft of his hatchet once more, "You'z still gonna want 'is? Ey, Zhev?"

"No... There is expensive enchantment on dagger," Zhevra smiled politely. "Return weapon, if you please."

Stickyfingers twirled the rifle about, inspected it for another moment... then showed her the empty chamber, "Clear an' on safe. Gehehe... you'z *really* got da nicest toys."

"Perks of being freelance assassin," Zhevra shrugged as she again took hold of her prized weapon. "Maybe consider change of profession when you return to mainland."

She came to a peculiar realization... that she did not feel comfortable allowing others to hold her rifle.

Even her brother, Vyzen, was no exception-- not that he particularly cared.

His specialty was not in firearms, but in brute force and overwhelming power. He wasn't happy unless his opponents became splotches of blood and broken bones in the indented dirt.

Zhevra allowed Stickyfingers a privilege that she did not give to Vyzen.

...She wondered if she was being emotional.

It was... a potential weakness-- one she would examine at a later date.

With her current mood, she was going to do as she pleased.

Zhevra spun her sling around, adjusting her rifle on her back before walking over to inspect the Captain's corpse.

The man once known as Krysaos laid motionless where he died. What was left of his eyeless face 'stared' at the sky.

She knelt down to inspect his injuries...

The blood was... strange. It seemed to adhere to the stones and the dirt like ink.

It was dark... almost black. It did not gleam under the light of the moon.

Stranger still... she looked inside his open chest wound.

There were no internal organs.

In an instant, the body faded away-- like an illusion?

Krysaos-- he stood in front of Zhevra as she knelt.

Wisps of smoke drifted upward from his eye sockets... burning with the hatred she saw in the man earlier.

"--what?"

The Captain grabbed onto her armor's collar.

He pulled her close... and the cretin-- he SPAT in her face!

It... it HURT!! The heat was biting... SCALDING, chewing away at her flesh!

Thanks to her reflexes, she had turned away at the last moment-- but her dominant eye had already taken irreparable damage.

"You!!" Zhevra slapped the man's arm away before tumbling backward.

"You... are NOT Krysaos!!" She growled.

Her attacker... his human features faded away... into a dark, vague, less-than-human shape.

He was... a Shadow-man-- one of many evil creatures able to change their forms for stealth and guile. .

His wide grin glowed a stark white, a contrast to his black-smoke silhouette, darker than the night.

"My... name... is Ishmael."

Who in the eleven heavens was ISHMAEL!? He was not in ANY of the Wizard's reports!!

He must have been one of the members of Sol Invictus.

She was stupid.

She was too trusting on what she knew.

She had underestimated her enemy!!

Even if there was a minuscule HINT of truth in Baron Tycon being the Tactician of Sol Invictus-- it should have been obvious that he did not act alone!

How many more members of Sol Invictus had she not seen in the crew? How many more waited for her?!

Zhevra's concerns flitted immediately Vyzen. Her brother had volunteered to lay waste to the crewmen of the Neptune's Revenge, Iron-Rank and below... but if there were any enemies that could challenge him--

Ishmael moved forward to attack.

Zhevra stood up to meet it, slashing her long dagger simultaneously.

It was fast... and Zhevra's speed was affected by her initial injury-- but she was CERTAIN she had cut her opponent's throat.

But... her blade...

She felt no resistance...

What she did feel... was a new injury.

Blood ran hot from a piercing cut on her lower abdomen.

...She swallowed a mouth of blood.

Iron-Rank? No. Stronger.

Zhevra was badly hurt, despite her Gold-Rank physique. Her enemy... the shadow-Krysaos named Ishmael, he must have been at least high Iron-Rank.

Her situation did not look good.

Blind in one eye. Critical abdominal injury.

To use her Comrade's words from earlier, she was f*cked.

Nevermind fighting and defeating her opponent, Zhevra needed immediate magical healing to prevent being killed.

She still had a magical healing potion... but she first needed to get to safety to sleep and recover.

Quickly circulating her mana, she began to activate her Movement Technique, "Ethereal St--"

"Where ya goin', Zhev?" Stickyfingers asked in a low voice.

That... palefaced BASTARD! Zhevra snapped her head back to see both of the Corallidus' hands grabbing onto her tail.

She only realized it then.

She realized it far too late.

Zhevra... the too-honest Assasssin of the prestigious Blackrot Wound.

She trusted that man. She slept with him. She shared with him her secrets.

...and he had betrayed her.

"Da fun's jus' gettin' stah'ed," Stickyfingers teased.

"You have crossed wrong b*tch," Zhevra growled, "Most dangerous b*tch in f*cking world."

With a slice of her dagger, she severed her own tail.

It didn't hurt.

...There was too much adrenaline coursing through her veins for anything more to hurt.

Later, it would.

Later, it would be agony.

She dipped her body low and tried to sprint. She made it a half-dozen steps but ended up stumbling and falling.

The rocks in the muddy dirt biting into her face as she slid.

"AH! GAHAHA!!!!" Stickyfingers' mocking laughter echoed throughout the clearing. "Wot's WRONG, ZHEV?! AHAHA! Can't BALANCE wivout a TAIL?!! 'EEERE! 'Ave it BACK!!"

Zhevra felt a piece of meat fall on top of her.

...It was probably her tail.

At least it wasn't a dagger.

"Grrrhh!" Zhevra heaved through clenched teeth as she forced herself to stand.

She wobbled forward, concentrating fully on her steps...

Focus.

She needed to focus.

Quickly, she began to increase in speed.

As long as she focused... she would be able to escape.

And if the situation grew dire enough... she could burn her remaining mana reserves to activate one final movement technique.