Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius took a step forward, quietly observing the Elven Ancient's approach.

Bronze-skinned and musclebound, he was once known as Sol Invictus member Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark.

He was once human.

Back then... he'd have never dared acting so brazenly.

...Alas, he was human no longer. His body was transformed into that of a pointy-eared elf by ancient magics... and with it came the arrogance often attributed to that particular bloodline.

It was possible that those changes could be reversed.

The ritual was already designed... but the catalyst Tycon required was not so simple.

He needed divine resonant energy.

Krysaos could provide... but only after that fellow's powers matured.

Besides that, it required the Elven Ancient's vessel relatively intact.

Thus, dealing with him... was often a pain.

"Ancient..." Tycon smiled politely, "why are you yelling?"

The elf made a powerful leap forward, crossing over a dozen yalms.

Upon landing, he broke dozens of tiles... art painstakingly laid some hundred years ago by the past generations of the Hidden Lake sect.

"I sought an HONORABLE fight," The Ancient screamed, "a fight between this KING and the EVIL, CORRUPT SEA GOD!!"

"Little bit late, bud," Hades waved. "The Sea God's standin' over there-- and he's a'ight."

The Ancient's unrestrained fury was powerful and oppressive... but it was a fraction of his full strength. It seemed he had expended much of his mana elsewhere.

Tycon had enough mana and willpower to stand and speak comfortably.

Krysaos and Hades stood fast, as well.

Wroe, however... he struggled to hold himself up with his forearms. His face was strained and his neck bulged... but Tycon surmised that the Hexblade did not need to breathe in order to live.

The shirtless Thunder God also succumbed to the pressure, dropping to his knees.

"E-e-e-e-elf God?!? Wh-what are you... why? But you?"

He was trembling... and tears flowed down his cheeks.

Whether it was from fear or pain, Tycon could not ascertain.

There was a dull thud.

Wroe had collapsed. He laid flat on the tile, his ear and the side of his head against his ejecta.

"All I desire," The Ancient seethed, "is HONORABLE BATTLE! And thou hast taken it from me-- AS WELL as the prize RIGHTFULLY MINE!!

"Lazy FOOL of a DEATH GOD!!" "Sup?"

"Human CHILD, out of THY ELEMENT!!" "The f*ck??"

"Mewling WHELP of LIGHTNING and RAIN!!" "Eeek!!"

"Annnd YOUUUU!!!"

The Ancient directed his furious gaze towards Tycon.

The hateful intent made his snake blood boil and his senses sharpen.

By the elf's words and demeanor, he sought confrontation.

...but an altercation would be fruitless.

Tycon held up his palm and he spoke with measured words and a soft tone. With that, he *hoped* the mewling elf would realize the Realm did not revolve around him.

"The sea god is dead-- the details, unnecessary.

"Thus... our mission is complete. The oath we swore together has been fulfilled.

"I ask... from one noble to another... that thou reign in thy aura."

Tycon swept his open palm towards his pitiful Hexblade. Though it was difficult to tell due to his bruises, his face had reddened and was transitioning to purple.

...He did need to breathe, after all.

"Tch," The Ancient scoffed.

The pressure disappeared in an instant.

The Shirtless God groaned as he sat up, rubbing his knees. Wroe lifted his head, gasping desperately for air.

Tycon crossed his arms. He would not thank the Ancient. As a noble, oppressing the weak was distasteful.

"Captain Krysaos, you will relinquish it to me," The elf commanded. "The power you have stolen is not for the likes for mortals to wield."

"Whoa," Krysaos held his palms up, "Chill."

"I will not *chill,* The elf spat. "You are *human.* Know. Thy. Place. I COMMAND you to surrender that power TO THIS KING!"

Krysaos twisted his head, "Who the f*ck do you--"

"SILENCE!!"

With a word of power, Krysaos reeled back, his voice caught in his throat.

"Ancient," Tycon called in a firm voice, "he cannot."

"You... " The Ancient furrowed his brows, "You dare?"

His words carried less fury than earlier-- more... confusion.

Tycon lifted his chin, "Allow me to speak."

The man known as King crossed his arms. It seemed he still held Tycon's words in high regard.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Tycon began to explain.

"Captain Krysaos's talent with magic is advanced for a human. However, he has neither the knowledge nor the skill to relinquish his godpower while also keeping his soul intact. The very fact that he lives and breathes, despite, is only due to nigh-impossible providence."

The elf's golden eyes glowed with mana, observing the half-god Krysaos.

The changed look on his face was... most concerning.

If the Ancient still desired the sea god's power, he could take it by force.

But to tap into that volatile energy risked the violent, explosive death of all beings present. In that case, the elf would first have to contend with a Gold-Rank, two God-Ranks, and... perhaps an Iron-Rank.

Finally, the elf pursed his lips... "I see."

He took a deep breath and lifted his head, staring up at the ceiling. The light of early morning shone down upon him through the cracks.

"This... benevolent king had sought to save this Realm with the help of fated companions."

He looked forward, his eyes still aglow but his expression eased... "I placed my faith in you... Maedar Tycondrius... Human Krysaos... noble heroes worthy of the song of which legends are sung."

While Tycon found the thought of that particular song loathsome... coming from the Ancient, it sounded ominous.

The elf placed a hand upon his face, covering his eyes, "The essence of the sea god would have been best in my possession... but no matter. I shall wrest fate into my own hands."

He spun on his heel and began to walk away, "Take heart, mortal companions. The Realm shall be saved... even without thy assistance."

"Hey!" Krysaos shouted after him, "Where you goin'?! I still have business with you!!"

"The architect behind Lady Mina's attack is dead," The elf responded without turning back. "I witnessed him draw his last breath."

He drew his blades and with a series of sword slashes, carved a spell circle in the broken tile.

Tycon recognized it as a ⌈Teleport⌋ formation, ingeniously powered by the still open-gate behind him and his companions.

It was... frustrating, but the Ancient could not be stopped. He acted immediately and without hesitation... and for that, he must have analyzed the spell circles as soon as he entered the chamber.

Tycon was capable of such... so it stood to reason that others could do the same.

With a loud buzz and a flash of power... the Ancient was gone-- and with him, the ambient mana in the chamber.

"Y-you..." The blonde man sputtered as he got to his feet-- "You are no ordinary mortal."

"What gave it away?" Krysaos smirked.

He spoke as if he was being spoken to... though the Thunder God was clearly looking at Tycon.

Tycon took no offense.

Instead, he gave the shirtless gentleman a polite smile, "None among us are ordinary, Thunder God."

Hades, the oversized Death Orc... and the least ordinary being in the chamber loosed a chamber-shaking yawn.

"AhhhHHHhhhaa... So, uh... where to, Big T?"

Tycon took a deep breath and massaged the bridge of his nose...

"The Ancient's departure-- and the Blades of the Forgotten King with him, is an unwelcome development. For now, let us return to the ship."