Headed by a Snake

"Ssstand down, Ancient," Tycon hissed. "If you utilize your full strength, Captain Krysaos won't have the requisite time necessary to *suffer* for his transgressions."

Krysaos furrowed his eyebrows. What the HELLS was that supposed to mean?

"Ah... haha..." He laughed nervously, "This... this is still training, right? Guys?"

"Training," Tycon glared, "assumes I will stop upon your defeat or submission."

Krysaos' heart fell deep into the pit of his stomach-- so deep it made him want to soil himself then and there.

Tycon began to uncoil... and began slowly slithering his way towards him.

He... was... huge, longer than any of the tree-buildings nearby, his pearly scales so thick Krysaos could probably use one as a shield. He was easily capable of wrapping around a Leviathan, bite down with his teeth, longer than swords, and pump barrels of venom into their blood...

Big, bony ridges topped his golden eyes, giving him a permanent glare... and the fins on his head and 'neck' flared as he roared in Aquan.

"(Krysaos, you are SMALL... PATHETIC... too reliant on tricks and cunning to reach your goals.)

"(In this Realm, only STRENGTH matters! The strong shall rule and the weak shall bend the knee!)

"(Using this form... I will make it painfully clear just how useless your words are.)"

Krysaos was glad he pissed in Imperia's bathtub-- else he'd have to fight with his trousers soaked through.

It was all supposed to be training.

It... didn't seem like that, anymore.

He should have been angry. As a guy who'd fallen prey to a mutiny once before, he thought he was doing good to avoid any kind of repeat situation. He treated his crew with respect. He made sure his bosun kept them well fed and paid on time.

That Tycon actually trying to kill him... was the same kind of betrayal as him leading the crew against him.

...and probably the worst gods-damned thing that could happen.

King was a tough bastard. The guy was unbeatable in combat... but he was predictable.

Lieutenant Tycon, though... that guy was just as strong AND a conniving scoundrel on top of it.

Plans out in the open. Back up plans. Secret plans. Open secrets. Hidden assets.

​ King might have been a scary opponent, but Tycon was gods-damned horrifying.

Krysaos had always hoped-- he'd literally prayed to every god but one... that he'd never see Tycon as his enemy. He never wanted to see the extent of the rage, cruelty, and insidiousness thinly veiled behind his golden eyes.

He narrowed his eyes to thin squints, desperately thinking of words that wouldn't get him killed, "Yeah... uh... So-- this isn't fair. I'm not gonna--"

The massive white snake whipped its tail at him with speed no less than a falling sword-- except with the length and girth of the biggest Leviathan wang in existence.

Krysaos let his instincts take over... following a truism he'd trusted in since he was born in the Realm.

Avoid the other guy's wang at all costs.

He leapt out of the way, curled up into a roll, and started running counter-clockwise, "Look at that LT! I ain't gonna learn anything if'n ya break every bone in my body with a single tail sw--"

"What did I JUST SAY?!?" Tycon raised his voice to a dangerous shout. Again, he whipped his tail... but horizontally.

Yep, fancy words were not at all useful... which was really shite, because that was literally the only thing he had going for him.

Krysaos felt his impending death looming behind him. Dodging to the side was a no-go. He couldn't jump over it-- maybe if he was Iron-Rank, he could. He definitely wasn't capable of blocking it...

Words appeared in his head, though-- and, as he didn't have any ideas, he shouted them at the top of his lungs.

"⌈Misty Step!!⌋"

He felt the muscles in his body start to... wiggle. And as Tycon struck him with the force and fury of a crashing airship-- Krysaos exploded.

...into ten thousand bubbles.

It was... the weirdest sensation he ever felt-- and he instinctively understood it wouldn't last for long.

He willed himself to... be, again-- also a weird sensation. And when he blinked his eyes, he was standing behind an arms-crossed Elven Ancient.

A body barrier was good.

It was better than nothing, anyroad.

Having bought a few seconds of time, he rapidly flashed a series of very, very well-memorized hand gestures. It was a pain that he had to channel his mana despite the fact that he should have been running on empty... but with all the adrenaline pumping through his brain and body, that was a problem for later-Krysaos, not seconds-away-from-dying-Krysaos.

Pitiful-and-sad-Krysaos knelt down in front of the elf, forehead pressed to the dirt like a dog, "King! You gotta do somethin'! Tycon-- he's... he's gone crazy!!"

"STEP ASIDE, ANCIENT!!" Crazy-big-white-snake-thing yelled.

Krysaos was betting he wouldn't.

The elf stared down, waving his hand, "Thou art deserving of such callousness, Captain Krysaos. Perhaps if thou had been born in a different time period... or of better blood, it would not be so."

"Oh, f*ck me, guy..." Krysaos cried, "If that's gonna be how it is... just... just end me now!"

"Thou art most wise, Captain Krysaos," The Ancient drew his blades, lifting them above his head in a cross. "Then, as thou wishes... this king shall gift thee with an honorable death."

The swords went down... which was admittedly hard to watch. Krysaos knew it was coming... but it didn't feel good having a battle-companion willing to end him without an onze of hesitation.

King's cross slash severed the head of pitiful-and-sad Krysaos--- which was actually desperately-trying-not-to-die Krysaos' ⌈Misty Reflection⌋.

...The whole maneuver would have been three times easier with Ishmael's help, but the stupid elf had bought the begging act, even though Krysaos' Reflection couldn't move an ilm.

In the half-second window that afforded him, Krysaos was able to thrust the Heart of the Ocean through the elf king's lower back, "Got'cha, B*TCH!!"

"GAHHHH!!!" King screamed in pain, "You... you DARE!!!"