Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius had two goals in mind when he decided to pay House Galanis a visit.

The first goal was simply restoring his spirits. He was in a poor mood.

The second goal was to kill as many humans as he could, taking their coin and any items of value.

He had no doubts that the first goal could be solved by splendidly completing the second.

Tycon was frustrated. He had come across... issues, during his and Zenon's training of Athena and her lackeys.

As indignant as Athena Vanzano was, at times, she remained diligent in her training.

However, she had reached a threshold between Unranked and Bronze. With her mastery over frost-type mana and her martial abilities, her growth more closely resembled a Cultivator than a pure Mage. Because of this, Tycon was uncertain how to proceed. He'd sent letters to the two Hidden Sect Leaders he knew... but had yet to receive replies.

Her mundane training level had been increased-- her endurance, her physical strength, her reflexes and agility, all tested to their limits. She grew ever closer to Bronze-Rank... but there was something inexplicably missing...

She needed... some sort of catalyst.

He knew of two ways cultivators eased their breakthroughs.

The first was body purification-- he recalled an ally from a previous life named Zing Lee insisted on hazardous herb-concoctions towards that goal. He did not have the recipes for such things, nor the ingredients, nor a Hidden Sect's Alchemist or Pill Master capable of crafting such items.

The second was mana absorption. Martialists used their Hidden Sect techniques to absorb power from 'spirit stones' or 'beast cores'... fancy names for mana rocks cultivated from magical beasts. Depending on the rock's source, such rocks had low affinity rates with a caster, therefore also had pathetic rock-to-absorption ratios.

It would be different if Tycon had a supply of hundreds of Ice Golems and Frost Elementals. Or perhaps a several-hundred-year-old Ice Lizard? Ethics and morality aside, he did not.

Athena had to reach a breakthrough on her own.

...It was fine. The Realm had always worked in such a way, as far as he knew. As an instructor, however, Tycon wished to give his students every advantage he could manage.

Tanamar was a different creature entirely. The young man was hiding something. Tycon had seen glimpses of the young man's power. He sensed it on the evening Tanamar burst into the dining area wielding a holy lance, killing intent flooding from every pore of his body.

Again, he sensed it when Tanamar nearly pierced his skull through the eye with that same lance.

After that? Never again.

The training was harsh... Admittedly, there were times where it bordered on unfair... Tycon wanted to push the young man... to find those limits. But each time Tanamar was pushed to the edge, he would eke out just a tiny bit more effort... and succeed.

...Or he'd fail spectacularly. There was a hospital nearby, so mundane and Elementary healing were available at reasonable cost.

Eventually, Tycon and Tanamar's practice bouts grew to become back-and-forths of skill and form, utilizing various weaponry. It was simple... but strengthening core skills in martial training was always beneficial. Tycon's weapon skills were sharpened. Tanamar's too. But still, Tycon would have liked to see the strength of a Holy Lancer.

Then there was Victorius... The man performed the bare minimum during training. And still, he refused to pick up a sword.

Tycon was going to plan the footman's death or dismissal... if he couldn't find a reason to outright murder him. He didn't know how he'd do it... but it was on his to-do list.

Useless bastard.

Anyroad, if Tycon couldn't lift his spirits doing as he pleased... he'd search for an evening street stall. He'd grab some hot snacks and a jug of wine and he'd share them with Zenon or whoever was awake.

The bigger an organization was, the easier it was to find their whereabouts. Tycon successively dragged a pickpocket, two con-men, and a street whore into an alleyway. Upon them, he used a combination of polite questioning, the threat of violence, and violence proper. Tycon was able to cross-reference his findings to locate the entrance to their hideout, an oft-used sewer grate.

He was mentally prepared to explore the labyrinthine understructure of the city and explore for a bell or three.

What hive of scum and villainy would he find below the streets of Silva?

...And were they wealthy enough to have a spatial bag?

...

"By the Flame, what's wrong?"

A panicked human's lantern had caught sight of one of his fallen companions. The man scurried forward down the hallway, kneeling down over the corpse.

Tycon's snake-belly gripped the dungeon stones above the two, peering down the hall the second human came. No one else. There really didn't seem to be many people down in the sewers.

He dropped his weight down onto the kneeling human... and he felt like he'd probably fractured one of the fellow's legs with his quarter-tonze, 8-yalm-long snake body.

...Oops.

The man screamed, in a state of excruciating pain, and likely horrified that a large reptilian predator had fallen upon him from the low ceiling.

Tycon lifted his snake head... easily the size of the human's. He was illuminated in the fallen lantern flames, which undoubtedly made him look far more intimidating, "You're being rather loud, sir."

The man's shrieks strained at his vocal cords, rising in pitch-- sounding quite unpleasant.

Well... Tycon had killed the earlier gentleman via constriction. He'd do something different for this one. He leaned forward and sank his dagger-sized fangs into the man's neck and upper chest. Venom pumped through his teeth, into the man's bloodstream.

It was a strange sensation.

Releasing his victim, Tycon allowed the convulsing human to fall beside his companion.

While it was an interesting kill, he didn't quite like it. It seemed rather intimate... and slightly unhygienic.

« System, cancel Snake-Form. »

Tycon felt his body shape and twist, once more taking the shape of a cloaked and armored human. He took his waterskin from his side, swished water in his mouth, and spat it out.

In a wonderful and fortunate coincidence, he had earlier flavored his water with cucumber slices and mint leaves.

Ah. Better.

It was quite cold in the sewers. He took an extra cloak off of the poisoned-to-death fellow and threw it over his person.

Much better.

After a cursory inspection of the two corpses, Tycon ventured deeper into the Galanis hideout.

How would he kill his next victims?