Headed by a Snake

"Whew, almost got me."

Revek Rexeris was shocked upon hearing the voice in the darkness... and the feeling quickly burned away, leaving naught but indignation.

It was impossible. His deadly breath weapon... had failed to kill a single Bronze-Rank human?

Trying to keep his cold, undead heart calm, he searched for the mana in his surroundings...

The human... he lived...

But he felt... different...

That creature was... a Circle Mage?

Peering through the watery veil of invisibility magic, Revek Rexeris saw him... the same broad face... the same... mocking grin.

...And he saw his cowardly back as he sprinted towards the cave exit.

Then the creature destroyed was... a mere shadow? An illusion?

...Revek Rexeris... had been... TRICKED?!

He... a Dragon Prince... had been made a FOOL?!?!

"Hear me, HUMANNNN!!" I, REVEK REXERIS, will hunt you down to the ends of the Realm! To the eleven heavens above!! To the DEPTHS OF THE SEVEN HELLS IF I MUST!!!!"

...

Tycondrius readjusted the strap on his metal gauntlets.

Prioritizing defense over speed and flexibility, he wore the Dwarven-crafted armor made for guild Letalis, all black, save for the white commander's helmet he had tucked underneath an arm. The Arcanite plates could withstand normal flames well enough... but would only provide a modicum of resistance against lizardfire.

Still, it was the best he had... and would provide protection enough against the creature's physical weapons.

His companion emerged from the cave, pale-faced and with his heart pounding noisily like an insistent rap upon a door.

"You're quite fast, Krysaos," Tycon smirked.

The man was sweating profusely, easily enough to fill a winecup.

"Tycon," He spoke between gasps for air, "There's a. big f*cking lizard. in the cave. Gods-damned huge!! Almost as big as my d--"

"Thank you, Captain," Tycon waved to stop Krysaos from going further into detail. "Are you not overreacting? You seem terrified of what-- a mere lizard?"

"It's... a really... f*cking big lizard," Krysaos countered.

"...Granted," Tycon pursed his lips to the side before gesturing the Bronze-Rank Buccaneer away, "Captain, please withdraw to safety."

"W-wait," Kryasos looked up, his teeth bared, and uncertainty in his eyes.

"Go ahead."

"I-ishmael... he... he's toast!" Krysaos grimaced.

It was likely that the man thought he'd lost another crewmember-- a great blow to his psyche.

Tycon closed his eyes for a moment, searching for his spiritual link to his ⌈Venomous Shadow.⌋ Thankfully, Krysaos was incorrect. His summonable companion was fine, though his link to The Real was in temporary remittance.

"Mister Ishmael cannot die," Tycon assured him. "Once his form is disrupted, he returns to the Plane of Shadow to recuperate."

"I'm... promoting him. after we. survive."

"Very well," Tycon chuckled as he placed his white helmet on. "You can tell him in a bell or two when I have the mana to summon him again."

Krysaos ran off into the gnarled, petrified trees, just as a large skeletal creature stomped out of the cave.

...It seemed the Captain's worries were reasonable. It was a much bigger lizard than he expected-- though Tycon had admittedly expected it to be more... lively.

⟬ Revek Rexeris, Adamantine-Rank Dracolich. ⟭

"Good morning," Tycon waved. "F*ck you."

"And who in the gods-damned seven hells are YOOUUUUUU?!?!?!" It shrieked-- like a spurned lover in the act of being cuckolded.

"My response to that is... f*ck you," Tycon repeated casually.

He did not know why he hated lizards so much. Logically, it was due to his bloodline... but even after rejecting his beliefs... even after the death of the snake god, the hatred remained.

It had become a personal vendetta.

Dragons don't exist. He would not allow it.

Tycon drew his curved blade from its sheath... and began to speak his mind.

"I hope you died unfairly... with everything you've ever loved taken from you.

"If you have any kin, I hope they were summarily harvested for their materials while their hearts still beat.

"If you've sired any children, I pray they are ravaged and tortured, their minds broken, their bodies, soulless shells.

"But ultimately... f*ck you, lizard. F*ck your family. F*ck your god. F*ck everything you've ever stood for. I will stab my sword into your head and relieve myself on your f*cking remains."

The time was enough for the lizard's breath weapon to recharge.

Thoroughly enraged, it breathed... a gout of green flames that adhered to and corroded everything it touched.

Noxious death magic. Decay and rot. Slightly poisonous, too.

It was what Tycon was waiting for.

"⌈As the swallow flies,⌋" He slashed his curved blade, cleaving through the lizardfire.

He wasn't worried about the sword-- it was enchanted with a touch of poison magic and would withstand the similar-affinity breath attack.

The smell was horrendous and it burnt the insides of his nostrils.

⟬ Warning: The host is affected with a Third-Circle death effect. ⟭

⟬ Warning: The host is affected with a Fourth-Circle poison. ⟭

« System, reject the death effect. I'd imagine the poison won't affect me. »

⟬ System response: Circulating mana to bolster the host's fortitude. The host is immune to the effects of the Fourth-Circle poison. ⟭

With the second part of Tycon's Skill, he dashed forward and chopped his sword into the creature's jaw-- the blade sticking half into it.

The undead creature-- the lizardolich, he believed they were called, it reared back as if it felt pain.

Tycon kept hold of his sword... going high up into the air with its head.

"You lot are so predictable," He scolded. "Always the breath attack first. And that was likely your second, as I'm certain you used a first on my agile companion."

Placing his boots upon the lizard's snout, he smashed his adamantine scabbard against the side of the creature's head. With a heavy crack of bone breaking, the creature toppled over onto the marshy sands.

Tycon unstuck his sword... and with the falling momentum, delivered a heavy chop atop the skeleton's neck.

Unfortunately, the creature's defensive mana prevented the attack from separating its head from its body.

...It made him wish he had a bloodline hatred for a creature that was easier to kill.