Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius activated his ⌈Tumble⌋ skill, somersaulting backward to get back on his feet.

The child!

He pointed the tip of his blade forward, ready to defend himself.

However... she was retreating.

Slow... too slow. The girl... she wobbled forward. How she expected to escape, when she couldn't even walk a straight line was baffling...

She tripped over a tree root, falling hard to a knee.

"ArrrrRRRGH!!" The child screamed.

Had she hurt herself? She struggled... so desperately-- unable to stand.

It was...

Pathetic.

It was... a clumsy, piteous struggle... for a creature that had no right to exist.

"Sprig... I'm coming..." She cried... "We have... to get away..."

It was... a respectable attempt.

The girl deserved nothing. She did not deserve to live. She did not deserve a painless death.

...But Tycon decided to gift her... a quick one.

He leapt forward, his speed hastened by the darkness, "⌈Shadowfang.⌋"

Summoning his curved blade in hand, he pierced the child through her back, the end sticking into the dirt.

She stopped running... perhaps finally realizing the uselessness of it.

Tycon drew the sword out. Blood ran freely from the fresh wound, darkening her shirt.

Willow fell to her knees, "N... no... We... have to..."

Tycon smashed the heel of his boot into the girl's back, knocking her to the dirt.

Two poisoned bolts.

His illusory poison Ocular Skill.

The effect of his Sword of Venom.

It was not her child body that kept her alive.

It was... her will to live. It was her... refusal to die.

Her love for her brother, perhaps? Once he took that away, her resistance would falter.

"That will do, child," Tycon raised his sword above his head, "Rest, now. I will ensure your brother's safety until he reaches adulthood."

⊰ Please... we need to talk...  ⊱

...A woman's voice filled Tycon's head.

It drowned out his other thoughts... threatening to split his skull open.

The words thrummed with power...

Yet... the request... was sincere.

The voice... it sounded familiar.

But. It. Mattered. NOT.

Whatever god sought to protect the miserable child.

No matter how many LEGIONS of angels or devils or gods-damned ELDRITCH HORRORS they commanded-- Tycon would NOT entertain them.

He was Tycondrius.

Gold-Rank Warlord.

The Leader of SOL INVICTUS.

Transmigrator.

He had delivered four different LETHAL attacks with the intent to kill.

Willow of Thorne... regardless of her species, her allegiance, her backing-- she would die as a matter of principle.

He began channeling mana into his sword for one final cut.

"Taste. the Hydra's.... Bl--"

⊰ Tyrael, please... ⊱

...Empty.

...Night.

Tycon hesitated.

That name... it was the one thing he did not want to hear.

He'd heard it only before... whispered by Hades, god of death and the dead.

Tycon gripped the handle of his sword. His blood ran hot with adrenaline. Sweat poured down his face, despite the cool swamps.

He was... physically unable to bring the sword down.

The owner of the voice... she knew him.

The girl was protected.

It was...

UNACCEPTABLE!!!

He gnashed his teeth in anger. His entire body trembled with annoyance. His muscles strained and his golden mana emanated in outward pulses.

He only sought to kill a single, weak, prepubescent, human! Yet the fates-- the accursed fates sought to DENY HIM?!

He needed to answer the call... he could not refuse.

It wasn't even a magical effect-- he could resist it, if it was.

...Tycon exhaled through his nostrils, letting his rage smolder.

The young Willow was incapable of fleeing. She had enough poison coursing through her veins to kill a giant winged lizard. Her open injuries were so severe that her child-body would be emptied of life essence in minutes.

Still... he was fairly certain that he was going to regret indulging his curiosity.

« System, accept the connection... Just this once. »

...

⟬ Connection established. ⟭

Tycondrius blinked.

In an instant, he no longer suffered the cold and uncomfortable Thorne Marshlands.

He found himself in a vastly different world. He stood inside the living area of a... home-- a small, cramped space, with a cushioned couch, draped windows, and a small kitchen area.

Gentle, golden light emanated from spheres of power in the ceiling overhead, illuminating books with foreign text, a myriad of collected trinkets displayed on wall shelves... and a brunette woman wearing dark trousers and a blue blouse.

Tycon met her gaze as placed his empty hands at his side... clenching them into fists.

⟬ Neerin Neelia, Dragon-Rank Blue Dragon Strategist. ⟭

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," Neerin inclined her head.

"Thank *you* for granting me the opportunity to kill you."

Tycon leapt forward and past her, "⌈Shadowfang.⌋"

Bounding off a white wall-- forming a web of cracks in the process, he drove a right hook into the woman's kidney.

She yelled in pain as she lurched forward, holding her side.

It was not enough.

Tycon grabbed hold of her short brown hair and dragged her to the kitchen area. He grabbed hold of the short counter, prepared to smash the dragon woman's face onto it.

His chest-- his heart... pained.

He did not know why.

--But where his heart hesitated, his logic prevailed.

"Death to the enemies of Sol Invictus!!" He put his weight into slamming the side of Neerin's head down, breaking the white tiles and sending ceramic shards and a cloud of dust into the air.

Guilt. Feelings of guilt flooded into Tycon's soul.

Grabbing a knife from the knife block, he held it to her throat, "Who are you?!"

"⌈Hi-en,⌋" She whispered.

The sense of danger blotted out Tycon's senses. Reflexively, he forced mana into his legs and leapt backward, his back slamming against a weak-metaled box.

...His cheek... it was wet.

He brushed it with his hand... and found it was covered with blood.

The lizard woman had used a high level attack Skill on him, not one, but two movements that he could not follow with his eyes... and barely registered through the displacement of the air.

It was incredibly similar, if not identical to ⌈As the Swallow Flies⌋... one of the Weapon Skills practiced in Garock Heartrender's Screaming Silence Sect. However, it was executed with a reduced chant and to a degree beyond conventional understanding.

If he were relying on his senses rather than overly careful vigilance and honed reflexes, he would have incurred grave damage.

...Also, it was fortunate of him that she did not wield a cutting implement.

"Who I am doesn't matter," Neerin righted her posture and faced him. A trail of blood dripped down the side of her head as she stared warily. "Not anymore... You chose a new life. Our past holds no weight."

With that, Tycon was in full agreement.

"I'm killing the girl," He declared.

Mana pulsed in Neerin Neelia's blue-green eyes, "You can't."

"Oh?" Tycon raised an eyebrow, "Is that a challenge?"

"It is *not* a challenge," She glared. "You can't kill Willow. I told her I'd protect her."

"If that is the case, you are destined for failure," Tycon waved his kitchen knife. "What makes this child so *different*?"

"She..." Neerin narrowed her eyes, inhaling through her nostrils, "Willow was chosen. She is... an Exarch of the Court."

A God-Chosen.

Iyuri had mentioned the girl was 'protected'... but had neglected to mention the exact details.

Tycon raised an eyebrow, "That makes me want to kill her even more."

"She's JUST a child!" Neerin raised her voice.

"And JUST why in the seven hells and eleven heavens would that fact change my or anyone's mind!" Tycon groaned as he moved to the side, "Child or not, she is--"

He threw the knife. With where he was standing it would complete its triplicate rotations and sink into Neerin's eye.

She deflected the blade with a slap of her hand.

Empty night.

"--an *enemy*," Tycon continued. "She belongs to YOUR faction, after all."

Neerin narrowed her eyes, "I'll change it."

"You'll... what?" Tycon furrowed his brows. "How do you mean?"

He had absolutely no idea what the woman could possibly have meant.

"I'll... remove her memories," Neerin said in a low voice... "Her gifts-- I'll take them away. Full reset."

Memory wipe magic. Not illegal, but highly unethical.

"Neerin Neelia..." Tycon growled, " y o u . l i e . "

The woman shut her eyes and shook her head... "I do not. You know this to be true."

...Tycon knew it. He did not have to like it-- but Neerin spoke the truth.

Concerning truth and falsehoods, lizards were beholden to the same Laws that he was. The hideous beasts could twist their words... but they were unable to speak outright falsehoods.

"...Very well," He nodded... "However... what's to stop me from killing *you*?"

It was a difficult prospect for a Gold-Rank Tycon to contend with a combatant two Metal-Ranks above him...

It would not dissuade him from trying.

He and the woman in front of him had some sort of-- probably amicable relationship in a previous lifetime.

Yet... it did not change the fact that she should not exist.