金瓶梅第2部

Auditory Skills were common in the territory of Charm. The harpy flights mastered and propagated the art. It was even considered vogue amongst the female elite, Medusae, human, and otherwise.

Thus, it was natural for Charm's Ivory Prince to have at least moderate resistance against such attacks.

The shrill vernacular of a disobedient teenage girl roused a desire within Tycondrius. It made him think it only natural to... use a blade to gouge out his eardrums... and to... bash his head against the stones until he ceased to breathe.

Tycon resisted, of course.

...Yet such desires could not be wholly erased.

So in order to survive in the short term, Tycon focused on optimizing his ritual's more-complex functions... which was also necessary for survival long-term.

A mirrored redundancy layer... Yes, that sounded nice.

...And for redundancy purposes, two additional layers with concept-equivalence restoration would be more efficient than one or more without.

In the distance, the enemy mage tossed her cap away, revealing a ponytail of brilliant silver hair.

The color was... oddly common of persons of the Sleeping Country, particularly of those belonging to noble lineages.

"I'm not here because I *wanna* be," She griped. "This... person I know-- someone as EEE-qually creepy as you! He has asked me to take care of you guys... whoever the heck you are~"

"How does she not know who we are?" Wroe asked quietly, "You think... she's pretending?"

Tycon poured some dirt over a section of runes he wanted to re-draw.

"Snake hatchlings cannot control their venom," He sighed. "In this, teenagers are much the same."

Wroe nodded in thought, looking back over to Krysaos and his opponent... "She was kind to me when we first met."

Tycon raised an eyebrow at the remark... but chose not to inquire further. Learning about another of Wroe's relationships would certainly be disappointing.

"Were you curious, Boss?" Asked the disappointment.

"Please allow me to work in relative silence," Answered the disappointed.

Free of her cap and with her thick coat open, the snow-haired girl's youth grew more discernible.

Roundness of the face. Overall size of the head-- especially when compared to her neck. Large-ish eyes.

It was obvious that--

"GUYS!!" Krysaos shouted, "She's a f*cking LIAR!! I mean LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THOSE KNOCKERS!!"

Tycon took a deep breath to regain his concentration. If he hadn't, he would have seen the results of a Fifth-Circle Spell Failure. Considering the volatility of the ingredients and the lack of safety circles the explosion would have killed him, Wroe, and the Thunder God nigh-instantaneously.

"Have you never been to the Old Country?" Wroe yelled back, "She's just a girl, Cap'n! --so more suitable for Boss Tycon's tastes."

...A rare and fleeting regret passed through Tycon's mind.

While he would never purposely botch a Spell Formation-- such was his professionalism... he felt regretful that he lacked a high-powered sidearm.

His hand-crossbow lacked lethality against an Iron-Rank and utilizing a sword required concentration he could not spare.

If he had kept one of the hextech pistols previously commissioned for Guild Letalis he could have executed his Hexblade cleanly and without risk to his Spell-Circle work.

"No..." Krysaos whispered, shaking his head. "I... refuse... to BELIEVE THAT!!"

To illustrate that disbelief, the Captain swiped his arm in front of him.

"⌈Fan of Knives!⌋" He cried.

It was a lower-level spell but valued it for its versatility.

Two rows of pointed icicles formed in a half-circle above the man's head and jetted forward-- a masterful and efficient execution.

The mage girl whipped her coat in front of her, disrupting the first wave of projectiles. Dashing aside, she she used her sheathed sword against the second barrage, blocking and deflecting as well as she could.

Her speed was excellent... but her technical skill fell short. Nevertheless, she sustained no major injury.

The fitted armor she wore was thick-- possibly enchanted.

In the places not covered by metal-plate, her arms and the upper part of her neck were covered in... ochre-colored scale.

Just as wondrously, the icy enchantments on the knives did not slow her movements... and she did not flinch away from the frozen debris that should have affected her vision.

Unease again flooded Tycon's senses.

Moderate-to-high physical resistance. Lesser magical resistance at the very least.

Colored scales...

Very few scaled creatures had bloodlines capable of casting high-level magic.

Tycon was fairly certain the girl didn't belong to the Snake Tribes. However, besides Medusae and the Elemental Snakes, there were also the more complicated bloodlines of the Naga and Yuan-Ti.

It was possible... that she was a particularly talented Irvhir? A scale-kin kobold?

Or... did she perhaps... have gills?

Paranoia was straining Tycon's abilities... but he had to keep focus on the task at hand. The ⌈Gate⌋ had been mostly stabilized but there was no harm in adding protective outer-layers-- layers with the option of traversability.

The mage girl unsheathed her long, slightly-curved blade. The particular name of its type was... 'shashka'? Nevertheless, its designation was that of a cavalry saber. It was somewhat odd that it was wielded by an unmounted individual.

Krysaos had excellent swordsmanship fundamentals, schooled in the White Raven sword style, much like Tycon, himself.

He had proven himself in combat against blade-wielding ruffians... but lacked experience against duelists that could be considered experts. Tycon and King could best him thoroughly. Petty Officer Bob and Leading Hand Stickyfingers were superior in both strength and skill-- though they were disadvantaged against Krysaos' magic.

Despite the snowy-haired mage's rough and aggressive style, her sword was practiced and skillful... and she was not lacking in strength.

It was clear-- at least to Tycon, that she would be the eventual victor.

"Boss..." Wroe bit his upper lip, "Which one... is winning?"

Instead of answering, Tycon tilted his head towards the Thunder God.

"Obviously, the side of justice," The shirtless fellow answered.

"--is losing," Tycon huffed.

He was *trying* to work, but he could not accept such misinformation.

"Yeah... I kinda got that feeling, too," Wroe nodded.

Tycon felt a vein on his temple throb. If Wroe already knew, why was he being such a bothersome prick?

"I beg to differ," The Thunder God frowned. "Krysaos' opponent is slowly yielding ground. As long as the Sea God's Transformation Skill--"