Headed by a Snake

Krysaos steadied his breathing... his gaze locked with the god he had sworn to kill.

They circled each other on the deck of the Sugar-Titted Siren.

Round and round they went-- watching... waiting.

The grizzled bastard's eyes... they were serious.

It was a little disappointing.

Krysaos was hoping he'd be underestimated.

He rotated his wrist, taking a small bit of comfort from the weight of his trusty rapier.

There was a lot... going on in his body.

He had a f*ckload of mana and, through the delivery system that was the Heart of the Ocean, enough postage to mail it straight up the sea god's arse.

A regular human can't kill a god-- that much was obvious. So he borrowed some power from something neither human or... regular.

Krysaos had... *appropriated* it from the cultists' Divine Guardian.

...If his concentration lapsed even for a second, he was pretty sure he'd explode into a thousand pieces.

But... that was the kind of power that made even a god hesitate to attack.

--which also meant it was a good time for Krysaos to say whatever the f*ck he wanted.

"Where the F*CK is my crew, Poseidon?" He shouted, "After I'm done with you, I'm gonna barnacle-grind every single one of those f*cks down to meat!"

"Too late, boyo," The sea god scoffed. "They're already at the bottom of the drink... in the bellies of sharks or sea wolves."

Krysaos grit his teeth.

It was one less thing he had to do... but the thought of it didn't make him feel any better.

"You... really don't care, do you, you heartless bastard?"

The old man threw his head back to laugh, "HAH! And why the f*ck would I give a single flying SH*T about a bunch of mortals dying? I'm a god, Krysaos. I do as I F*CKING PLEASE!!"

"Oh yeah?" Krysaos cut back, "Why the f*ck are you even HERE, then?"

...A nagging, uncomfortable feeling tugged at the corner of his heart-- "And... what is that... thing I saw?"

The sea god's eyes grew dark... "You? ...You saw it?"

Krysaos narrowed his eyes... and nodded.

"It's... a f*cking mistake..." The sea god spat. "It's something that shouldn't exist-- and also something that does not concern you. As for the reason I'm here... it's as a favor to the only elf in the heavens and hells that I won't kill on sight."

Ah... so that was his game.

Was a god really a god if their flaws were so... human?

"So who's cock're you suckin' exactly?" Krysaos sneered.

"*Her* identity... is none of your f*cking business, mortal," The sea god glared.

"Heh heh hehhh..." Krysaos put on a disgusting smile, "So you're doin' someone else's dirty work, then? All for the chance at a little taste?"

The old man's mana started going berserk, his scraggly grey and white beard whipping around like he was underwater.

"You really think you're somethin', don't you, Krysaos? Do you KNOW what it is you're holding?"

Krysaos glanced down at the phallic object in his left hand...

"Quit eyein' it like that. It's a sword, not a dick."

"It's made from bone, mortal," The sea god screamed-- "from a damned monster who harvests the materials from her own f*cking flesh to seduce mortals with power."

Krysaos glanced down at the Heart of the Ocean-- careful to keep attention to the sea god for a possible attack.

It... was made of... metal.

Obviously.

The sea god was more an insufferable arse. He was also f*cking blind.

Suddenly... the pit of his stomach grew cold... and he... remembered something-- something he'd forgotten.

...The memories-- they weren't taken away by some outside force.

Krysaos had purposely tried to forget.

What remained in his memory... was a pitiful attempt at making sense of the impossible.

Whatever was down there... was not something human senses could comprehend.

Krysaos had a choice.

On the forefront of his mind was... despair.

The true nature of the god he 'saw'... made his blood run cold. It poisoned his mind.

He couldn't... explain why he felt the way he did. He couldn't explain the burning need to kneel, to gouge out his eyes... to splay his ribs and carve out his heart in the name of worship...

As giving in to his base desires was a shite option, Krysaos chose something else.

He dug deeper... to embrace just a little bit of the madness.

The reality he witnessed, he forcibly twisted it into... zeal.

He wanted... a crusade.

In *her* name...

--Krysaos chose deicide.

"Her bones..." he whispered, "They 're sharpened into swords... to take out evil, self-serving tyrants that think they're untouchable."

"What. the. f*ck?" The old man bared his shark-teeth in a furious snarl, "You... think you're a gods-damned hero, Krysaos?"

Krysaos took a breath... and apologized in his heart.

⁆ Sorry, LT... I ain't waiting for backup like I promised. ⁅

"...Yer damn right I do," Krysaos grinned... fully aware that he was letting his crazy show, "Go ahead an' call me Chosen One."

"Che!" The sea god snapped his chin to the side, "If that's so, your legend ends right F*CKIN' HERE!!"

⁆ ...So there I was-- ⁅

⁆ An ancient god charging at me on a fuckin' wave... god-weapon in hand... and all the force and the fury of the sea at his beck and call. ⁅

⁆ Me. ⁅

⁆ Krysaos. ⁅

⁆ ...Captain of the Neptune's Revenge... the ship Captain with the best crew in all the gods-damned Realms, combined. ⁅

⁆ A hero... not the kind that saves the Realm... but just a guy trying to save one woman-- and maybe himself. ⁅

Krysaos let out a battlecry.

All the mana in his body-- everything he was trying to hold in the tiny vessel that was a human body... he let it go. He let it... do its thing.

Every touch, every sensation he experienced... even the gods-damned flow of f*cking time... got magnified by ten thousand.

One hand, he kept on the most badass sword in existence.

With the other, he reached for the pistol in his holster.

--all the while... he screamed like a terrified little girl.

⁆ But who knows? If I get lucky, I might even win. ⁅