金瓶梅第2部

Lulu closed her eyes, shrugging and shaking her head. 

"My, my~ So much *effort* put into killing a guy we--"

Tycon waved to stop her, "That's enough, Miss Lulu."

The demon woman shifted her weight, resting her hand on her hip, "Ohh~hh?"

Her rising intonation scalded Tycon's mood.

...but it was also terribly consistent of her character. 

"The identity of that person," Tycon said... then shook his head-- "no... That corpse has no relation to our Sol Invictus."

Lulu seemed unconvinced. She continued to stare as if Tycon had more to say. 

"Break the body apart," Tycon said, averting his gaze. "Have Jægerin's troops consume the pieces... and do whatever else you believe appropriate to prevent any possibility of their return."

Lulu waited another moment before realizing it was useless. 

"Fine, fine~" she waved. 

"A single 'fine' is enough."

Tycon breathed a sigh of relief. His senses were returning, though they remained dull and lackluster. 

He tried to relax, but all of his muscles seemed numb and almost-painfully tense. 

He was concerned about his state of mind. 

It felt like something was... closed-off. 

It was as if his rational subconscious was withholding key information at bay. 

The fallen Monarch's chamber was filled with the members of Infernus Invictus. 

There was an area for basic triage. 

A far corner was filled with a logically-arranged pile of corpses. 

A majority of the hellborne were actively taking apart the fortifications, dense wooden plates reinforced with fire and earth-mana. 

It was good material. 

Yet all those going-ons implied that the fighting had passed... and a considerable amount of time had elapsed. 

Tycon called for the Clock Devil. 

That fellow floated over, saluting as per decorum. 

It should have been a proper salute, but Tycon's groggy state prevented him from scrutinizing it properly. 

⟬ 29 bells, 31 minutes, 2 seconds remaining... ⟭ 

He'd spent over two bells in Lulu's ⌈Domain⌋. 

That was... concerning. 

"Seraphine!" he called. 

The Fire Hydra girl bounded up to him obediently. 

She had taken a humanoid form, appearing as an orange-skinned medusa girl with five beautiful golden snakes atop her head. 

She opened her mouth to say something... and Tycon could vaguely tell it was, 'yes, handsome Prince' or something similar. 

"Secure the area," he ordered. "Afterward, organize a full withdrawal. We'll establish greater fortifications near our original base."

The woman began to complain. Tycon didn't care for it, so he spun her around and gently (but firmly) kicked her bottom, so she'd leave. 

"Lulu."

[YesSss, Boss?]

Tycon narrowed his eyes. Lulu was communicating to him mentally. 

That was odd. 

The contents of their conversation did not require confidentiality. Was someone unsavory listening in? Or was the notion a random whimsy of hers? 

"Once we... leave this place..." 

[I'll make sure the Pocket Dimension gets collapsed. Don't wanna get scolded by the big, bad Gatekeeper General, after all.]

Right. That was precisely what he was going to request. 

"Kimura."

[Stitched up proper and healed up by the holy hoe.]

That made sense. It had been so many bells, after all. 

"Dragan."

[Fell into a pit of spicy water.]

Tycon narrowed his eyes. 

"A what?"

What... the hells was *spicy* water?

[That Kimura girl cried like a leaky faucet, all 'cos Big Boy fell into the lava.] 

[But you can't swim in lava! That just ain't how it works!] 

[Spicy water, though, you can definitely swim in that stuff.]

"D... dead?"

[Maybe. Want me to find him?]

[Ehh, it's cool. Don't answer.] 

[I'll go find him. Gonna do butt stuff with him. His butt, of course.]

Tycon tried to wave in annoyance. He didn't care for the superfluous details. 

[Crazy question, though!] 

[How are you still standing, Boss?]

Crazy? Not so... The question was asinine. 

Tycon wanted to tell the woman to sod off, but he had trouble opening his mouth. 

More peculiar still... 

[Well, Boss... you did use, like, over a dozen high-level Martial Skills--]

He did what? 

[--in a row...]

No...?

[...to kill a Sky-Rank guy--]

A whAT?

[--you also just super-man'd through a...] 

[and--]

[...]

[but you--]

[Boss?] 

[Boss, you good?]

No. 

No, he was not good. 

...

It was Tycon's turn to tend to the campfire, having replaced Droghan a half-bell prior. 

The Titanblood, as expected, didn't deign himself to a single word of gratitude. 

'One of these suns,' Tycon thought... he'd stand up to the scrawny bastard. 

Anyroad, it was always strange, sensing the movement of an elf. 

--especially when a certain, loudmouthed pipsqueak was *trying* to be elf-like, for once. 

It wasn't something you could hear-- and usually, it wasn't something you could see. 

"Where you goin', Leader?" he whispered aloud, "It's dark as shite out here. Easy to get lost."

Quay drifted out of the bushes like a ghost. 

And his face was lightly flushed-- like a disloyal whore. 

"You heard me, Ty?"

That wasn't quite right. Tycon sensed his footsteps through the ground.

But Quay didn't need to know that. 

Tycon pointed at the fire. It danced and crackled a bit more excitedly with Quay's presence. 

"Ty," Quay whispered... "I need to go."

"WowWw," Tycon groaned sarcastically. "Never would've f*cking guessed."

"Hey, listen," Quay said. 

The seriousness of his voice cut down Tycon's wisecracking facade. 

He relied on that. 

Without it, all that was left was nervousness and doubt. 

"What is it?" he frowned. 

"I... have a son," Quay said in a quiet voice. "He's... a good kid, I think-- smart, too."

"It doesn't take much to be smarter than you," Tycon quipped. 

"Hah... that's true," Quay sighed... "Hey, listen. I'm gonna be gone for a while."

Tycon wanted to ask how long. 

The heart of Sol Invictus was the only thing binding their group of contrary misfits together. 

But... Quay leaving meant the guild was going to be disbanded for certain. 

So... Tycon didn't ask. 

The dissolution of Sol Invictus was an inevitability. 

Nothing lasted forever. That was doubly true of an arena gladiator-- and thrice so for an arena troupe. 

Tycon already had a plan set for afterward. As someone with the Warlord Class, he could at least do that much...

Granted, he was hoping that Sol Invictus would last a few years longer, but... if Quay had set his idiot brain into doing something, he was going to do it, for sure. 

Quay opened his mouth... but hesitated. 

"Out with it," Tycon waved, "hesitation does--"

"--does not beget a leader," Quay sighed. 

Tycon grinned, chuckling to himself, "Doesn't feel so good, does it? Hearing it from someone else?"

"Ty..."

"Just f*cking say it, guy."

"His name..." Quay said before pausing. "Hmm... his name is Pale."

"Your son's name is Bucket?" Tycon groaned, "I'm assuming *you* named him."

"I need you to promise me something, Ty..."

Tycon kept quiet. He was pretty sure he was about to hear something incredibly stupid. 

Nothing of value came out of Quay's mouth. 

"Ty," he said... "I want you to take care of my son. Keep him safe."

Tycon rolled his eyes, "Are you out of your f*cking mind, Leader?"

He pointed at himself, his rising anger marring his voice. 

"Me? With a kid? I will never, EVERRR--"

...

Tycondrius shot awake, sitting up immediately. 

He was slathered in sweat, despite the controlled temperature of his Command Tent. 

He was dreaming... 

He had the feeling that the contents of his dream were relevant.

--or perhaps it was... extraordinarily relevant? 

But... probably not. 

Tycon was not an Oracle. In the past, his dreams had never been of the remarkable sort. 

Most all of them were nightmares of some kind. They only served to keep him living in the present... and to strive for excellence, hoping to avoid the failures of the past. 

Tycon examined his situation. 

He was on the floor, comprising a series of overlapping lion pelts. 

He had a thin, linen blanket on-- he threw that off. 

On his right was a sleeping, human-shaped insectoid girl, lying on her side. 

Jægerin.

⟬ Jægerin, Sky-Rank Demon Princess. ⟭

Despite her young-adult form, she was certainly not of age-- and certainly not a child he was comfortable sharing a bed with. 

"Boss!" Pale cried, "You're awake!"

⟬ Pale, Adamantine-Rank Half-Elven Spear Hero. ⟭

Tycon picked up Jægerin by the nape and threw her at the boy. 

Pale caught her, as expected. 

"Mmm..."

On Tycon's left was a purple-haired child, wearing an elegant set of pajamas and stirring into wakefulness. 

Holy Princess Troia. 

⟬ Troia, Bronze-Rank Hallowed Summoner. ⟭

She was of age, but still far too young for him to be comfortable, sharing a bed with her. 

Six transparent and glowing pairs of wings fluttered on her back. 

⟬ Dawnbringer, Gold-Rank Divine Armor. ⟭

Hm. That was new. There were obvious similarities between her wings and those of Jægerin. 

But anyroad... 

Tycon picked Troia up by the back collar of her pajamas and threw her at the boy. 

Pale caught her, as expected. 

"Oya, oyaa~" came the throaty and mildly seductive voice of Lulu. 

⟬ Lucifer of Pride, Gold-Rank Umbrella Meister. ⟭

« System, update entry based on recent observations... and our current location. »

⟬ Understood. Calculating... ⟭

⟬ Lucifer of Pride, Sky-Rank Demon Queen. ⟭

Yes, that made more sense. 

Unfortunately, Tycon lacked anything appropriate to throw at her. 

Whatever had happened, he surmised that the Demon Queen in his presence was responsible.