Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius met Rena's ghostly gaze.

She looked back. She looked to her hand. Her eye widened.

Despite the lack of blood flowing coursing through her veins, she managed to blush.

Panic began to set in.

"O... oy," She tried to squirm away, "Wh-what are you doing?"

Tycon pursed his lips... "Something foolish, I suppose."

He kept a firm grip on Rena's wrist as he lifted the sword in his opposite hand.

She should have recognized it.

It was an old blade once belonging to a Holy Swordsman named Justus... passed down from his father and perhaps his father before him.

Rena had used the last of her mana-- her life force to enchant it, a foolhardy action that vastly expedited her death.

The girl stared at it... but whether her wide-eyed expression was out of familiarity or fear of her possible destruction, Tycon did not care to ask.

"Maybe this will help you remember."

There wasn't enough of Rena's soul remaining in the sword worth returning.

Thus... he would provide her with a portion of his own.

Utilizing one's soul as a power source or catalyst could vastly improve the quality of a spell, similar to blood magic but on an altogether different tier. The spell's volatility would rise to recklessly dangerous levels... and irreparable damage to the caster was almost guaranteed, even if the spell was successful.

The art of Soul Burning had a series of Divine Laws restricting its use.

...Tycon ran the calculations in his mind while chanting... disabling and bypassing each of them, one by one.

The process was arduous... and complex.

The long-forgotten god or heavenly being that had placed such fail-safes was... one more clever than most.

Tycon didn't care much for the rules of the heavens, even the sensible ones

...It was going to get him killed, somesun.

Tycon circulated his mana through Rena's held hand rapidly, yet carefully and intently.

He used the same mana circuits and breathing technique he utilized with his ⌈Legionslayer⌋ Skill.

It was the purest he was able... the best he could do as a Martial Class to emulate the holy magics practiced by the Priests of the Eternal Flame.

Tycon did not have the raw magical strength of a true, Third-Circle Caster Class.

He did not have the obscenely efficient mana-to-power ratio of a proper, Gold-Rank Martial Class.

He did, however, know a great many things-- though he was an expert at very few.

The only quality he had that made him superior to his peers was his strikingly good looks.

A touch of soft color returned to Rena's translucent skin...

The young woman stared down at Tycon's chest... and placed her forehead against it.

"I didn't actually mean it," She whispered.

"Tss," Tycon scoffed. "Go on."

"...I just thought 'wanting to be saved' sounded cool..." Rena sighed.

Tycon kept silent, focusing on keeping awake and trying to convince himself that his throbbing headache wasn't his body's attempt to murder him.

An errant thought crossed his mind... the fact that it would have been far more efficacious to execute the mana transfer via exchange of fluids.

He eliminated the thought immediately. He did not want to dishonor Rena by forcing himself upon her-- not any more than he already had.

Thus, as weakened as he was, he could not prevent Rena's 'attack.'

The Tyrion girl slowly wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight...

"You didn't have to come save me... Zehr."

...Tycon hesitantly returned the embrace.

Zehr.

It was the pseudonym he had taken when he infiltrated Rena's guild, the Rhodoks of Ezyria.

He ensured that every single man and woman under their banner was killed.

...Only the horses, war dogs, and beasts of burden were spared-- and even then, only those who agreed to keep their silence about the Rhodoks' annihilation.

Tycon hadn't thought much of the ramifications of his actions.

He just knew that Rena deserved better... to live in a better place-- not merely in a location with access to Avernan Snapper.

She was, however, dead... killed in battle. Regardless of Tycon's feelings, she 'belonged' in one of the many Realms of the dead.

Thus, smuggling her out of one of the seven hells broke a multitude of rules and came with an even larger slew of problems.

Some of those problems, Tycon knew. The Avengers of the Eternal Flame were the first to come to mind.

Not even High Oracle Troia would be able to turn a blind eye to his crime. Archbishop Natalya Crucis would sign his assassination order without a second thought.

The Gatekeepers... they would have a vested interest in him.

Tycon was a Gold-Rank offender of the Laws they upheld. According to the Gatekeepers' modus operandi, they would capture him and bind him with one of their slave-contracts. For the decades of his punishment term, he would serve as an effective agent for their Realm-wide operations.

Then... there were others that were beyond even them...

Stealing Rena away was enough of a justification for the forces of heaven to field their agents.

If Tycon had reached Adamantine-Rank, he would have taken her wherever he pleased without fear of consequences.

Unfortunately, as he was... he was still mortal.

And then... there was the problem of Rena, herself.

Restoring a portion of her soul did not return her memories to completion.

With what she did remember... and what she did not-- would she even be willing to leave with him?

While Tycon was not directly responsible in the death of *all* of her guild members, he had personally killed her two closest friends, Justus and Gianna.

Also... he was in a relationship with Rena's childhood friend, Haelvia.

Considering that, in life, Rena wanted to pursue Tycon as a romantic partner... that conversation would be, in some ways, even more awkward than the former.

Rena looked up, wiping at the tears rolling down her no-longer-translucent cheek, "The Flame brought you back to me."

In the distance, Hades stumbled, "The F*CK?!"

The orc turned back to look at the ground... as if a rock or uneven terrain made him lose his balance.

More likely, the fellow was merely clumsy.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much time left for Tycon to deliberate a course of action.

He felt an intense, dry heat at his back... and a burning hiss echoed in the back of his mind.

❬❰ I shall take her from this place. ❱❭

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