Headed by a Snake

Cortlyn's mind drifted back to the last six weeks of her life.

It was like the whole Realm had gone crazy.

Training.

Flight time.

Classes and more classes, a neverending cascade of them. Instructors went from talking about multi-casting to wand safety to clearing buildings, room by room.

There was paperwork. Stars and stones, there was so much paperwork...

There was also a... psychiatric exam? Cortlyn was *pretty* sure she was clinically depressed... but the docs said she was fine to deploy.

Oh-- and on top of that... there was-- surprise! More training!

Someone from Whitehearth gave a class on basic Divine Armor control.

Divine Armor control.

That was a class for Alpha Squad-- not someone like her!

But... if there was any benefit at all... it was the eye candy.

Besides training and... the subtly-different more-training... there was also *joint* training.

During the past six weeks, the Sapphire Tower had done training exercises with at least a dozen other organizations.

There were local heroes like the Red Capes, as well as big names from nearby City-States like the Forcen Knights and House Highblade. But there were foreigners too! The Paladins from the Holy Country looked like they ate nothing but meat and iron. The Griffon Riders from the Magic Kingdom looked so gentle-- but with just the right amount of *primal* intensity.

There was a tall and curly-haired Cavalier from Nemaya... and even seeing him from afar with his dark cape and darker expression gave her the chills.

The training was... tough-- easily the most difficult she'd ever endured in Cortlyn's 19 years of life.

But was it worth it?

...Probably not.

But at least her eyes were happy.

Did appreciating hot guys out in the Realm just-being-hot make her a shallow woman?

Yeah, probably. But... no one would ever know. No one would EVER know that she had less than pure thoughts about her fellow adventurers! No one would ever, eVeR, EVERRRR know... that every night, she'd fantasize about being *more* than romantically involved with a different--

"Caitlyn," A man whispered into her ear.

"Yes, Daddy?"

Oh no! Her automatic response was horribly wrong!

Cortlyn felt her cheeks begin to burn hotter than a ⌈Flame Sphere⌋-- and that was despite the fact that she was going well over 50 malms an hour and a couple-hundred fulms in the air.

"Mind your speed," The Commander warned.

Cortlyn glared back in response, but despite her probably-50mph-heart-rate, she managed to keep her broom skyborne.

The unreasonably hot Commander of the whole operation had hitched a ride on her broom. And... even though she was slightly regretting it because she was risking her freakin' life... she had tricked him into holding onto her waist.

Why was he so hot?

Weren't Commanders supposed to be cranky and crotchety old men??

Two pieces of gossip had spread throughout the Sapphire Tower.

The first was that the battle Commander was the current leader of Sol Invictus. And the second was that their CEO, Lady Sapphira, had been in close contact with a young, green-haired Mercenary Captain from the Free Nation.

They were WRONG! ALL them b*tches were wrong!

The unreasonably attractive green-haired man who had his big, strong arms around her waist was the Commander!

The coMmanDarRRRRrr!!!

SoL iNviCtuS' VERY OWN!! CommaNdarRrrRrrr!!!!!~

Cortlyn concentrated on keeping control of the broom between her legs... trying not to think about other things between other persons' legs!!

Spellbreaker Zashleigh wouldn't be happy about the Commander's presence.

As of recent, the leader of Zeta Squad had been very... vocal about Lady Sapphira's latest choice of companion. She had always had a thing against people with Martial Classes, though.

But then again, there was a rumor that Zash also picked on the few guy-Witches in the Tower...

Putting all the facts together, it probably meant that--

[Evasive maneuvers!!]

"Wait, what? What the--"

...

A blue-colored blast of force energy broke apart the flight of witches.

Their fly-leader made the call through their short-range, persistent communication Spell.

Unfortunately, it was objectively a few seconds late for her flight to react appropriately.

Tycondrius struggled to care. What did it matter if his entourage plummeted to the ground, the pink contents of their skulls painting the streets of Making?

He even considered dying along with them...

It would be a death suffered in battle.

Even if anyone blamed him, he wouldn't be around to hear it.

But alas, several seconds passed... enough for him to grow tired of Caitlyn's shrill, panicked screeching.

"Steady yourself, whelpling!!"

"I-- I can't!!"

"You will if you FOCUS!!" He shouted.

Tycon couldn't understand why the girl's bravado had mysteriously vanished. Prior to the last attack, she had successfully maneuvered to evade *several* rounds of magical attacks, including three other instances of lizard-fire.

"This is CRAZY!! This is SUICIDE!!!" She screamed. "We're falling a HUNDRED EIGHTEEN MALMS per hour while being SHOT AT by D--"

"⌈Desire Trigger,⌋" Tycon sighed.

⟬ ⌈Desire Trigger⌋. Support ability. Targeted ally is compelled to envision an existing incentive, moderately boosting target's ability to resist detrimental effects. ⟭

Caityln's flight stabilized immediately... and suspiciously so.

Her heart rate, however, remained quite high... and... suspiciously so.

Tycon slowly removed his arm, which was previously wrapped around the girl's waist. He was no longer comfortable holding onto her.

"Get us closer to your flight leader."

"Anything for you, Daddy."

...Tycon did not appreciate the form of address, but it was neither the time nor place to correct her.

He waved to the squad leader, then channeled a thin stream of mana to tap into her squad's communication-link.

[You there! Can we return fire??]

The Witch looked visibly stunned, but after a glance at the rank insignia on Tycon's collar, she regained her composure quickly enough.

[N-negative, Sir! The last attack took out our Sniper!]

The last attack...

One particular girl was caught in its center. Her death was instantaneous, her body vaporized by the volatile magic.

Tycon had sorely overestimated the level of common human-blooded Casters, considering they were hard-pressed to return fire at something distant but still within visual range.

Glancing down and to the side, another beam of harsh blue light was quickly headed in their direction. A direct hit on any of his companion Witches would ensure further loss of life-- or would at least disrupt their ability to stay airborne.

[CHANNEL FOR-MA-TION!!!] Tycon ordered, enunciating clearly to trigger memories drilled into the girls since their earliest suns of training.

[Wait, how did you know about--]

Tycon flicked his wrist, summoning a magical staff in hand-- one he had acquired relatively recently.

He was reluctant to use it, due to its unsavory origins. However, he had stolen it properly. It was his. There was nothing wrong with using something that belonged to him.

He stood up, balancing on Caitlyn's broom in order to stand (and hating every moment of it.) Then, he made a series of mental calculations with respect to the positions of his surrounding Witches.

A simple, double-layered ⌈Shield⌋ was appropriate for the situation-- and easy for him to execute without much thought.

[Readyyyy, Channel-- EXECUTE!!!]

Caitlyn was the first to commit and her actions were quickly followed by her fly-leader and the rest of her flight.

Tycon directed his winged staff downward, activating the Spell with a burst of light.

The channeled mana made it an odd pink color-- something he'd never encountered. Functionally, it worked as intended.

The two layers worked in tandem, thrumming in power as it absorbed the force of the enemy's attack. No part of the ⌈Shield⌋ broke, though it did vibrate rather violently.

Again using his magical focus, Tycon directed the energies back from whence it came.

It was not a proper offensive Spell. Essentially, he returned the Witches' volatile mana along with their attacker's back toward its source.

Far below, upon contact with... something, a magical explosion engulfed about one-and-a-half mid-sized structures.

Tycon narrowed his eyes to thin squints. That was too much mana.

He looked to the Witches in his entourage.

They looked miserable. Two of their number had channeled so much of their energies, they struggled to sustain their flight.

...Granted, in his haste, he hadn't set a limiter in his Spell. But to channel so recklessly... what was Bella teaching her Witches?

[What-- what in the SEVEN HELLS was that??!]

[What happened to that blue dragon? Did we get her?]

[Forget the dragon; we just took out one of our targets!! Our attack was-- I think it was as strong as one of President Bella's?!?]

[No way *our* attack was as strong as the Pres. The way I see it, they don't make protective formations like they used to.]

[Guys-- I think I'm gonna hurl.]

Tycon frowned at the last Witch's comment, [Young lady, please don't--]

Unfortunately-- and similar to the flight-leader's earlier command, he was too late. One Witch projectile vomited off the side of her broom... spilling the contents of her stomach, far below, onto the streets of Making.

The woman was suffering mana fatigue, closer to mana exhaustion.

The entire squad was exhibiting similar symptoms, though most, not as severe.

But conversely... they all had more to give before their mana wells ran dry.

[Well done,] Tycon smiled. [Once more, dear friends. Then we can return, victorious.]

Of course, he planned on two more channeled attacks. It was more digestible request, asking for one, then the other.

[But Sir...]

The fly-leader seemed reluctant, flying to the side of him and Caitlyn with a look of concern on her face.

[Our squad as a whole is running low on mana. If we run out of flight time, we'll have to land in the city.]

[Have some faith in yourself and your squad, young lady.] Tycon smiled politely, brandishing his stolen magic staff, [And besides... that was not a request.]