Headed by a Snake

⟬ Second sun in the Tree God's Forest, present time. ⟭

"UgHHHHhhhh!!!" Krysaos wiped the sweat on his brow and gasped for air, "My lungs feel like they're on FIRE!!!"

"Keep thy focus, friend-human," King hmphed. "Thy weakness exists only in thy mind."

Tycondrius followed the two, one hand calmly resting on the hilt of his sword. He'd finally devised a clever way to distract the Elven Ancient from his impatience... though for how long was yet to be seen.

King was utilizing limited Body-Control magic to assist Krysaos with training, largely muting the gentleman's spellcasting ability while positively influencing his martial capacity.

Before their trip to the forest, Krysaos' reaction speed and environmental awareness was only marginally better than that of an ordinary human. Without the use of magic as a crutch, he was forced to develop his skills in order to avoid taking an injury too severe for Tycon to heal.

Further, the Ancient gently guided Krysaos' attacks, economizing his movements for efficiency and correcting inadequacies in his technique-- ingraining those lessons through muscle memory.

It was difficult for Tycon to fully accept the Lone Shadowdark's death... watching his corpse animated by the spirit of a magical pair of swords. He'd thought of the young human as a loyal student... and often enough as a younger sibling.

Working with the Elven Ancient, however, was not unpleasant. They had a mutual respect for each other and shared an appreciation for training and martial arts. Thus, the man who called himself King happily obliged with Tycon's plans to cultivate Captain Krysaos as a combatant.

⊰ watch out ⊱

With Beatrice's warning, the Krysaos lunged to the side, hitting the hard ground and skidding in the dirt.

Tycon considered scolding him for failing to roll properly... but it was clear that the pain surging through his shoulder had already informed him of the fact.

What his mind failed to learn, his body would remember.

Tycon snapped his fingers, "Elle."

⟬ ⌈Commander's Strike⌋ activated. ⟭

"I hear you!" Elle hopped forward and smashed a clean kick to the attacking dire wolf, launching it away before its hungry teeth could crunch into Krysaos' bones.

Tycon snapped his fingers once more, "Miss Coraline."

⟬ ⌈Commander's Strike⌋ activated. ⟭

Coraline rejected a leaping wolf with a fiery ⌈Mana Ward⌋ before immediately turning around to quick-cast another spell at Elle's target, "⌈Fire Bolt⌋!"

The tiny ball of flame hit the creature in the rump, sending it running off, whining pitifully.

"Phew..." The young Arcanist huffed, "I think... I'm getting the hang of this?"

"Aaaaalright..." Kryasos sat up with a groan, rubbing his arm. "This... this is bull crap, LT."

"This is training," Tycon shrugged. "You signed the contract, Brother-Captain. Likewise, Elle and Coraline have agreed to follow my commands in pursuit of their own martial development."

"I've never really fought for so long without Gaheris' help," Elle massaged the front of her thighs. "I'm tired and sore... but it's the good kind of both."

"Yeah," Coraline nodded. "Honestly, I've been kinda neglecting my magic practice-- I really spend too much time sitting at a desk..."

"Take heart, mortal," The glowing-eyed Ancient smiled warmly. "Even this king has trained for tens of centuries to reach my current level."

"Well... I get that," Krysaos frowned. "But... why's all the focus on me?"

Tycon kept his face stern, as revealing the satisfaction in his own cleverness would be counterintuitive to his Captain's focus. The reason for so much pressure on Krysaos was simple. He was the type of gentleman that performed better under scrutiny. Contrary to that, he was particularly adept at slacking off, allowing his crew to cover for his laziness.

Thus far, traveling in the Tree God's Forest only yielded lower level threats that either Tycon or the Elven Ancient could nullify in seconds. It was appropriate to turn that into a training environment, retaining a small element of danger while being relatively safe overall.

Their group was split into three main squads. Petty Officer Bob led the forward, Stickyfingers covered the rear, and both were instructed to allow a reasonable amount of wildlife to break to the center-- the focus group.

Krysaos was the main combatant, defending himself and his allies with his rapier, the Heart of the Ocean. Coraline and Beatrice supported him in mid-range, utilizing controlled chaos rather than relying on mana-inefficient fire-and-forget spells. Tycon imparted some basic kicking techniques to Elle, allowing her to make excellent use of her long, shapely legs to keep Krysaos from being overwhelmed by various furred predators.

As for Tycon... while he was technically ensuring no one took grave injury, he spent his time enjoying the scenery.

"Seven hells..." Krysaos smashed his rapier pommel into a snarling wolf's snout, then stabbed his blade into the cheek of one approaching from behind. "Hey, LT."

"Go ahead, Brother-Captain."

Krysaos kicked the first wolf in the rear, sending it scampering away, "When... did you make me sign a magic contract?"

"A few suns before we left Whitehearth," Tycon raised an eyebrow. "Do you not remember?"

"You-- hold on."

Krysaos pulled on a flexible tree branch, then released it-- whipping another wolf in the face before it could get close. A bloody snout full of thorns was enough to keep that one from returning.

Still... the wolf pack was not yet routed.

Krysaos bared his teeth, keeping his eyes to the thicker foliage, "You... never did tell me what that was all about!!"

"I gave you plenty of time to read it, beforehand," Tycon frowned. "I also wrote you a copy, out of courtesy."

"Yeah, that'd be real useful--" Krysaos turned to him to raise his arms indignantly, "if I could READ, LT!"

A particularly sly wolf took the lapse in concentration to rush Krysaos from the opposite side, taking him to the ground.

"Gods DAMN IT!!" Krysaos yelled, "I... I SUCK!!"

"Regardless, Brother-Captain," Tycon sighed as he grabbed the scruff of the creature's neck, keeping its teeth from tearing out Krysaos' throat, "You shouldn't have signed it. I'll write you a new one in the common language... at which time I'll also answer any questions you may have."

Kryasos punched the wolf in the ribs, then pommeled it in the teeth. The creature's ears flattened, finally dissuaded.

Tycon casually tossed it away, into a particularly spiky bramble patch, "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"