Headed by a Snake

⟬ On the opposite side. 48 bells remaining... ⟭

Tycondrius carefully stepped through the ⌈Gate⌋... and onto a slick of oily Outsider blood.

How annoying...

He spent a few moments searching for a clear area before summoning his curved blade from his spatial ring. Using its adamantine sheath, he carved a Spell Formation into the red rock.

Once he was finished, he wiped his brow as he looked Pale's recent handiwork.

The dark fluid flowed from a still-gushing, Fire Crab-- recently defeated.

Or... to be more accurate, it was a chimera of sorts. It appeared mostly as an oversized crustacean. However, it had the torso and head of an androgynous elf, and the four arms of a...

...a four-armed humanoid.

--"Boss!"

What had four arms and was crab-like?

It wasn't surprising to see those qualities mixed together, but Tycon struggled to name a particular species that matched the criteria.

--"Sir!? Help! Please?"

There were the insectoid species... Thri-kreen came to mind.

They were quite different, though. He wondered if the comparison would be considered offensive.

--"Boss, watch out!"

Tycon snatched a throwing axe out of the air, hurling it back at its distant source. He didn't do so with any particular form but was glad to see that the blade chunked into the forehead of a rather surly firebeard.

It was a fortunate throw.

Pale had done well enough. During the several minutes he spent with Cass, the boy had defeated some thirty foes, including a 20 fulm tall chimera and two or three Fire Elementals, Gold-Rank according to the bulk of their remains.

Tycon was slightly disappointed, though. There were two squads of firebeards remaining. They had Pale surrounded and kept him engaged with a steady barrage of spear thrusts, axe strikes, and crossbow shots.

...But that was the boy's problem, not his.

"Young Hero," Tycon called, "I need your power to activate this Spell Formation."

--"Sir, I'm... I'm kinda busy!!"

That... was frustrating to hear, but... his frustrations did not change the situation.

Tycon crossed his arms, waiting patiently. He was on a time limit, but the reason for the slight delay was reasonable.

Thankfully, his faith in the boy was well-placed. After only two minutes, a bolt of lightning arced toward the ⌈Gate⌋, (if dangerously close to his person.)

With a source of power, the various Spell Circles activated, reinforcing the Law of Fire in the finite space.

The ⌈Gate⌋ collapsed in on itself, disabling the largest access point the denizens of the plane had to Making.

Taking in a breath of satisfaction, Tycon leisurely strode to the edge of a nearby cliff, one overlooking the area.

Red rock. Rivers of unquenchable flame. Molten pools of magma.

He spotted a few other denizens of fire... busy squabbling against other denizens of fire. The residents of the plane had a reputation of being rather hostile, even to each other.

Tycon needed to deal with both his enemies and whatever riffraff he encountered...

Then he had to find and recover the Hero Party, (along with Dragan)... then, he had to return to the material plane.

And he only had 48 bells to do so...

--"Sir, I'm still getting my butt kicked!!"

Tycon knelt over the precipice, deep in thought.

He needed an army.

He was a Warlord, a high-tier Class that could take an army of reasonable skill and discipline, transforming that into a nigh-undefeatable force of hate and murder.

Ah. There.

He saw something, far in the distance, that had the potential to resolve his issues.

--"Sirrrr!!!!"

Tycon groaned at the interruption. He was trying to concentrate, but the boy's incessant whining grated at his patience.

He drew his Nemayan pistol, imbuing the weapon with ⌈Frost Enchant⌋.

Taking careful aim, he discharged five icy rounds in the span of four seconds, each unerringly into the back of five firebeard skulls.

Then, he snapped his fingers.

⟬ ⌈Commander's Strike⌋ activated. ⟭

Pale took the momentary respite to stab a firebeard in the throat. It seemed he had affixed an elongated crimson soul gem to the top of his staff-- perhaps from one of the defeated fire elementals.

Then, the boy struck the ground with the base of his staff, engulfing the immediate area in a ⌈Lightning Field⌋.

...Tycon emptied the rest of his pistol chamber into the stunned, still-standing targets.

It was calming practice, shooting at immobile targets without fear of reprisal.

Pale came jogging toward him, spear over his shoulder, "Boss, we did it!"

"Correct," Tycon frowned. "Well done."

"I dunno why, but that was... kinda anti-climactic?" Pale said, "Usually, Vanya has to put a bunch of enchants on me, or Ree and I have to combine Skills to make an entirely new Skill, or we have to buy time for Troia to charge up her laser?"

A laser?

He recalled Bella mentioning something similar.

It seemed that beam-type Spells had grown in popularity in recent years.

Suddenly, Pale spun around, his weapon at the ready.

Tycon wasn't particularly concerned, but... he was curious. "What is it, boy?"

"And usually, some kinda really big thing shows up at the end!" Pale replied.

"Like... that?" said Tycon, pointing to the dead chimera.

"Well-- yeah. Just like that."

"Or that? Or... that and that?" said Tycon, pointing at the remains of the fire elementals.

"Err... yeah, those too."

The ground began to rumble.

"There it is!" Pale grinned excitedly, "Boss! I'll entrust my back to you!"

A crack in the red earth opened up, big enough for even Dragan to jump into.

"No need," Tycon waved. The ⌈Frost Enchant⌋ he'd cast earlier was still active.

He inserted a new magazine into his pistol. He racked the slide, loading a bullet into the chamber.

He walked over to the crack.

He knelt down.

Then, he began firing at the top of the emerging crab-chimera's head.

It took 11 shots-- more than he expected, but there were still more rounds in the magazine if he needed them.

Anyroad, that thing died.

The earth ceased its tremors.

Tycon then summoned a handkerchief from his spatial ring and dabbed it lightly against his forehead. Despite the enchantments on his attire, the Plane of Fire was a half-step too warm for his liking.

Pale lowered his spear... "Sir?"

Tycon stood up and summoned a box of bullets. It was an appropriate time to reload.

"Yes? Go ahead."

"I missed you a lot, Sir," he said with a respectful bow.

Tycon smiled politely, patting the young man on the shoulder.

"Once you've identified a problem, you needn't delay before solving it."

He motioned towards the battlefield, "Once you've caught your breath, you and I will begin collecting the weapons and armor of the fallen-- anything remotely useful. We'll move to our next mission objective, immediately after."

"Aye aye, Sir," Pale saluted. "Just like old times?"

"Indeed," Tycon chuckled.

Just like old times...

...

⟬ 46 bells and change remaining... ⟭

"Um, Sir," Pale said suddenly, "why did we close the ⌈Gate⌋?"

Tycon glanced over to the boy in confusion. That was an odd question.

He was tempted to ask for Pale's views on the topic, to perhaps debate ethics and obligations-- things that were especially important for a developing Hero.

However... there was only a single reasonable answer.

"To prevent the denizens of fire from spilling onto the Material Plane," Tycon replied. "Why else?"

"But Sir..." Pale mumbled.

Tycon rolled his eyes, "If you had questions or identified a complication I had not, it would have been more appropriate to ask *at the time.*"

"I-instant and willing obedience to orders!" Pale countered.

"...Very well," Tycon nodded. "I approve. But my point still stands. You're a leader, young man. Act as I command but I pray you can discern the reasons behind my actions. And if you don't, I would have you inquire for my reasoning--"

"--But that's what I'm--"

Tycon bonked the boy on the forehead with a flick of his finger, "Don't interrupt."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Forgiven," Tycon sighed. "I commend you for asking now, even after the moment has passed. Again, well done."

The boy returned a slow nod, "Well... I guess we closed the ⌈Gate⌋ because it was the right thing to do. The Gatekeepers have rules for a reason, right?"

"Indeed," Tycon smiled, pleased that the boy made the connection. "As denizens of our Realm, we have a duty to uphold their Laws."

Some tens of thousands of years prior, members of all bloodlines swore to adhere to that pact. As the prospect of interplanar war was a problematic notion, it was sensible that the Gatekeepers' Laws would be adhered to by all generations after.

"But couldn't we have closed the ⌈Gate⌋ after we got back?"

"Eh?"

"The Sapphire Tower and the Shadow Snakes are in Making," Pale explained. "We could have just had them watch the ⌈Gate⌋. And after we found Ree and Troia and Sir Dragan, we could have used that ⌈Gate⌋ to get back within your time limit?"

Tycon steeled his expression.

He had made a mistake.