Headed by a Snake

Nine mana-created snakes surged out of Tycondrius' sword... biting... snapping... and entangling their ethereal bodies around the lizardolich. Hissing furiously, they worked in tandem to crush the comparably smaller creature's bones... causing them to creak under the force... to fracture... to snap.

"Ah... hahaha... HAHAHA!!! What's this??" The lizard guffawed, "I cannot be defeated by THIS. These broken bones... will regenerate in minutes..."

Tycon narrowed his eyes, the sweat on his brow, dripping cold... and he calmly observed the situation.

The poisonous bite of his mana-created snakes were ineffective... It was to be expected, considering the lizard's particular... condition.

As it was reasonably safe, Tycon carefully went down to a knee, sticking his blade into the hard-packed dirt.

It changed nothing.

"They can keep you immobilized," He spat, before wiping the blood spilling down his mouth. .

"And whatttt will THAT DO?!?" The lizard shrugged-- trying but failing to break free from his writhing bonds.

From the way his soulfire eyes burned so brightly, he was using no small amount of mana and effort. The Final Technique taught to him by Samurai Garock Heartrender was not a simple one.

"Once I am free," The lizard snarled... "you will live the rest of your pathetically short life as you lived... ALONE!!"

"You arrogant, piteous fool," Tycon shook his head, "As expected, you have completely forgotten that I am not, in-fact, alone."

...

⟬ Flashback, several bells prior. ⟭

⁆ Captain's Log, Date XXXX ⁅

⁆ So there I was... in the middle of a weird, swampy marsh area... smack dab in the center of a haunted island. ⁅

⁆ We'd been surrounded more times than I could count... by skeletal swordsman, ghoulish ghosts, and... zombies. Big, fat, water-bloated zombies. ⁅

⁆ Each one fell to my blade... my White Raven swordsmanship. ⁅

⁆ The LT was there too. And knowing he had my back let me fight even harder. ⁅

⁆ Good guy, that Tycon. ⁅

⁆ Us against the world. That's the promise we made to each other. Thought of it, myself. ⁅

⁆ Then... I saw something that made me think the world was specifically out to f*ck us. ⁅

Krysaos gulped as he looked up at a flat rock wall adjacent to a humongous cave entrance. Impossibly large script had been carved into it... words in a language that looked primitive and... savage.

"Sea god's b*tch-tits," He cursed. "The hells does it mean?"

Lieutenant Tycon stroked his chin as his green-hair flowed in the light breeze.

The guy didn't even have a drop of sweat on him.

Was the guy invincible, or what?

"It's a warning," He rolled his eyes. "We're going to be ignoring it."

"Oh, no you don't," Krysaos waved his hands. "I need you to quit the secrecy around me, LT. I'm sick of it."

Tycon glanced to Ishmael for support. He shrugged.

"SEE?" Krysaos scoffed, "Even Ishmael agrees."

"None of it is relevant," Tycon shook his head.

"WHATEVER!!" Krysaos pointed at the wall, "I wanna know exactly what that thing says!"

"Are you certain?" Tycon pursed his lips.

"YEAH, I'm certain!"

"...Very well," The guy smiled, his golden eyes twinkling.

It was kinda girly. It made Krysaos feel weird.

"This is the territory of Revek Rexeris," Tycon read, "--the great and terrible... lizard prince."

"You hesitated just now, guy."

"I'm translating between two languages," Tycon twisted his lips to the side. "A mere moment to parse is acceptable, is it not?"

"...Yeah, fair."

Tycon really didn't like to be interrupted... and sometimes when he was questioned, he gave Krysaos a look that made him feel like a gigantic idiot.

There was no helping it, though. If Krysaos didn't know what was up, he had to ask, "Can you keep reading, LT? I appreciate it, guy."

"Of course," Tycon cleared his throat and continued...

"My wings have blot out the sun as I laid waste to Oakenshield.

"My terrible roar has fallen mountains upon the Bastille.

"My scales have withstood ten thousand spears and arrows at Valencia.

"My claws have crushed and rent the armies of men assembled at Saint Benoit."

Tycon turned to Krysaos with a half-hearted smile, "Enter at your own peril... for no human can cross a lizard Prince and hope to survive."

Wings? Roar? Scales and claws?

Krysaos crossed his arms... "What manner of creature is this?"

"... ... ...A lizard."

"...Right."

Krysaos gulped. He knew of Bastille and Saint Benoit, two cities in the Magic Kingdom.

In the first, some sort of freak accident crushed the fort city and killed most of its inhabitants. And in the second... an entire standing army disappeared while they were out doing training exercises-- there nothing left but a smoldering battlefield.

...Those places were hundreds of miles away, though.

"I propose we spend the next few bells setting up traps near the entrance," Tycon nodded.

"Yeah... sounds good," Krysaos agreed.

"--And I'd like you and Mister Ishmael to lure the creature out."

"Yeah-- no," Krysaos strongly disagreed. "That's not how this works. I'm the Captain! I make the plans!"

"I'd like to remind you that you asked me for a plan, Captain Krysaos."

"I'm the Captain!" Krysaos repeated, "And I can also ask you to make the plans! --which are my plans! They're OUR plans!"

"There is magic in your tongue, Captain," Tycon raised an eyebrow, "is there not?"

"Uh huh? Some of the girls talk to ya 'bout that, huh?" Krysaos grinned smugly.

"As such, dealing with whatever sentient lizard is inside that cave... I'm certain you'll be able to convince him or her to come outside-- preferably peaceably, as to be caught unaware."

Sea god's socks. The guy knew him pretty well. Krysaos could charm the pants off of anything.

"WELL, THEN!" Krysaos crossed his arms, "I'm sure it's a good plan, but I'm still not completely sold on the idea of MY arse on the line!

"You're tellin' me to go in there and go talk to whatever f*ck-huge thing is in that cave..."

"It's only Adamantine-Rank," Tycon assured. "You'll be fine."

"THOSE DON'T EXIST!!!" Krysaos argued.

"...Think of it as a very strong Gold-Rank."

"That is F*CKED UP, LT!" Kryaos shouted, "I am a BRONZE-RANK!"

"Hasn't seemed to dissuade you, before," Tycon smirked.

"Why don't YOU do it?! HUH??"

"Because of my heritage, I may be attacked indiscriminately," Tycon pursed his lips. "And should a surprise attack be necessary, it would behoove us that I lay in wait, rather than you or Ishmael."

...It made a little bit of sense. Tycon's offensive power was just a tad bit higher than his... especially if they weren't fighting against two-legged opponents.

"I'm sure you have Skills that can protect yourself, no?" Tycon asked.

Krysaos sighed loudly... "I GUESSSS I can use my ⌈Misty Reflection⌋ spell to make Ishmael look like me."

Ishmael nodded eagerly as he placed a hand on his opposite bicep.

"Wonderful," Tycon smirked. "Now, pray tell, Brother-Captain. How many working ship cannons and kegs of Orkish sugar can we procure before nightfall?"

...

⟬ Present time. ⟭

With his good arm, Tycon grabbed hold of the lizardolich's bottom jaw.

Though the creature tried to rail against his fate, it remained fully immobilized.

"Release me!! I DEMAND IT!!" It screeched, small gouts of green flame erupting from its nostrils.

Some of the clinging substance burned into Tycon's ruined armor, but he ignored it.

The positioning had to be perfect.

He dragged the creature to the marked X on the hill, then slammed the creature's head into the ground.

"Burn in the depths of the seven hells," Tycon stomped upon its face, "That is my demand."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

A dozen cannons firing simultaneously drowned out the creature's pitiful screaming.

Tycon dropped prone to the ground, dragging himself away as the second set of cannons fired.

"C-CLEARRRRR!!!" Krysaos shouted from behind the powdery fog.

He sounded... hurt.

It could wait.

Tycon lifted himself up and went to check on the lizard. He gathered the bits and pieces that remained of its shriveled heart. He also recovered its skull, notably absent of its soulfire.

For good measure, he pissed on its remains.

He'd been holding it in for some time, just for the occasion.

With his promises fulfilled, he made his way towards Krysaos' location.

...The man was pinned underneath a medium-sized tree.

"H-hey, LT," He coughed. "You good?"

"The lizard has been defeated," He nodded. "As for me..."

Holes had been corroded into several parts of Tycon's expensive Arcanite armor. His left arm was broken. His head pounded with mana fatigue.

"I'll live," He remarked.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins... and having recently relieved himself, his spirits were high.

It could have been worse.

Krysaos coughed... and he tried to struggle out of his entrapment... but to no avail... "It... it fell on me when the dragon used its breath attack..."

"Lizard," Tycon corrected.

"Right, lizard," Krysaos chuckled... then abruptly quieted... "LT... I'm... I'm not long for this world."

Tycon was worried... but not for the mewling gentleman in front of him.

He had enough mana to use on a healing Skill, but he was hoping to use it on himself.