Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius massaged the bridge of his nose, attempting to relieve the psychosomatic pressure of his current dilemma.

The loss of Wroe weighed on his heart... and the thought of losing another clouded his judgment.

However, he did not fight alone.

While he sought to keep alive as many of his allies as possible... they were not his weakness. They were his strength.

And so, he turned to his dear friend, Krysaos-- a man he trusted with his life, for advice.

"Nnnnevermind!" The Captain declared, "It turns out: I have *no* idea what you were gonna say! So jus' go ahead and say it!"

Krysaos' grin lacked even a tinge of apology.

Tycon quietly cursed himself for expecting more.

Shaking his head, he turned to address his stalwart companions.

"Sol Invictus... the mission is not yet over. From here on, we shall recover one of our own: the Lone Shadowdark."

The fact that Tres Leches had regained his sentience implied that Lone had returned in a reasonably functional capacity.

Either the butter-brained fool had regained control of his body... or his soul had amassed power strong enough to manifest into the corporeal Realm independent of it.

It was a flagrant and *insolent* defiance of reason... and it also presented a chance to recover the Lone Shadowdark.

There would not be a second.

"In the likely case that the Tree God will attempt to prevent this," Tycon continued-- "it is imperative that each of you heed my commands..."

Only 15 minutes prior, he had resigned to him and his companions dying before the sun fell. However, the situation had changed upon gaining an Adamantine-Rank wolf-- one familiar with coordinating attacks alongside other high-Metal-Rank combatants.

Tycon was confident in providing support for Tres Leches... and he had great faith in his god-allies to capitalize on the advantages made. Besides that, Tycon could spare the mana to re-summon Ishmael... and, if needed, he could weaponize the Arcanite Rod--

"(I think the Tree God's dead,)" Barked Tres Leches.

"Eh?" "The f*ck?" "Truly?"

The wolf wagged his tail with a ferocity yet unseen...

"(I can sense that my partner won!)" He continued, "(But...he's... he's still not safe yet...)"

Tycon held his head, trying to make sense of the newest, dire change in the overall situation.

"Are you... certain, wolf? Do you... perhaps not know what the Tree God looks like?"

"(Yes, Pack Leader,)" Tres Leches barked happily, "(I do, Pack Leader!)"

The Thunder God pushed his chest forward, "Let us have faith in our companion's bloodline memories. He is, most certainly... a good boy."

"Tres Leches is a sentient bundle of shaped Dark Iron ingots," Tycon groaned.

"Iron's got blood, don't it?" Krysaos said.

Despite his overwhelming confidence, at least the Captain was grossly mistaken.

"(Oh!)" Suddenly, Tres Leches lowered his body, "(Wait!! I can feel my partner-- he's... he's scared!)"

"That..." Tycon nodded, "That is not abnormal for the Lone Shadowdark."

"(Someone... someone is trying to mate with him!)"

"That..." Tycon frowned, "*is* abnormal for the Lone Shadowdark."

"That's pretty cold, LT," Krysaos shook his head, "So do we save him or nah?"

Tycon clenched his fist, "We save him. Lone can fornicate on his own time."

Unfortunately, the uncertain voice of the Thunder God stopped Tycon from acting immediately.

"Friend-Maedar... an issue has arisen."

Tycon felt a dangerous surge of power in the atmosphere. A disgusting wave of mana washed over him... its taste worrying similar to that of the lizard-slave, Valeria Ashenspire.

Beneath them, the moist dirt began to turn ash-white. The leaves and foliage began to shrivel and dissipate, revealing a cold, grey sky churning overhead.

Above, the tallest trees began to bend and curl, creaking loudly in protest.

Slowly... but certain, as if guided by a higher intelligence, some trees began to twist around each other.

Their shape, together, resembled a many-limbed beast...

Tycon linked its familiarity... to the form of Prince Diabetes.

It was possible-- perhaps even likely that the lizard-chimera was birthed of a similar magic. And though Tycon and his allies had defeated Diabetes with ease... at the time, they were well-rested and were boosted by a series of high-powered Spell effects.

Further... with the strange magic pervading the Tree God's Forest, it was likely that multiple Diabetes-level threats would arise... and soon.

"Tres Leches!!" Tycon shouted.

He wanted the wolf to make a path for them... to safety... to Lone-- anywhere away from where they were. However... where Tres Leches once stood, a dark iron hammer, its head in the shape of a wolf, stuck in the dirt.

"Sorry, LT," Krysaos sighed... "Our doggo's gone."

Tycon lowered his head for a moment.

Sweeping his hair back, he grinned towards the heavens... "You don't say?"

In response, Krysaos snorted with a grin.

With the window of time they had to save Lone... it was impossible, from the start.

Tycon was convinced... that the gods were f*cking with him.

"So..." Krysaos began, "whaddya make of this weird magic all around us, LT?"

"Summoning/Creation magic," Tycon answered flippantly, matching the Captain's nonchalance.  "If I'm right-- as I often am, soon, the trees are going to adopt nigh-divine forms and attempt to murder us."

"Aha, ya don't say~" Krysaos chuckled. "But at least we got the girl, right?"

"You mean the delirious invalid that's done nothing but cry and beg for death since we found her? Yes, we have the girl."

"Eh? That's what she's saying?" The Captain frowned... "Wow, that's f*cked up."

"Should I have expected more?" Tycon asked.

"Nnnnope," Krysaos crouched down before dropping onto his back. Lying on the white dirt, he gazed up to the miserable grey sky... "F*ck life. F*ck the gods. It all ends here..."

"No, dear friends," The Thunder God interjected... "Your paths do not end here."

Tycon and Krysaos simultaneously looked over to him.

He was a thin, shirtless blonde man... not so much a regal deity of the heavens, but more alike a traveler lost in the woods.

The oversized axe he held above his head did not match his size or physique.

The way he trembled made it look like it wasn't even his.

But... there was a certain look in that fellow's eyes-- one that Tycon did not like.

He'd seen it before.

What was it? Pride? Conviction? Something unreasonable for a modern warrior to value.

Tycon didn't like it... because he knew, instinctively... that it would be the last time he'd see it.

The Thunder God turned to him, his gentle smile unafraid.

"Tycondrius... You thought-- no... You knew the gods would not answer your prayers.

"Without even once asking for their blessings... you stood at the forefront of the millennia-long war of this Realm against the dragons...

"You were not tasked to do so. Your selflessness needed no reason... nor your relentlessness... nor your heroism.

"The great enemy... The Tyrant God is being reborn in this very forest...

"Yet while even the shadows of his wings cause the younger gods to hide and quake in fear...

"I know you, of all mortals, will persevere.

"Hear me, Hero Tycondrius...

"I stand with you.

"--not as a god... but as a dear friend."

",