Headed by a Snake

"The lake..." Tears flowed down Acolyte Diantha's face, "The monster's seal is the lake... My mana cannot... possibly be enough."

Tycondrius grimaced. There was yet another problem that stemmed from his detailed explanations. Diantha keenly understood how daunting her task was to handle alone and how little room she had for error.

She was lost in the formation, her eyes aglow with mana. She could not see how desperately Karodin and Ptolema were fighting against three Lake Eels... and losing. She could not see how yet another Archer in her group's ranged line had fallen. She could not see her senior leader, the old Adept Eugenios, trembling with pain, blood streaming from his ears and nostrils.

Tycon lowered his voice, his tone solemn... "Listen to me, girl."

"I... I hear you, Tactician."

"You've survived this far into the battle. All of your friends are dying around you... to protect you. You are our victory condition. This is when you need to push. This is when you draw deep inside of you to find whatever that keeps you going. What drives you? Why are you here? Why do you fight?"

"Tactician, I..."

Tycon stared at the girl intently, growling through clenched teeth, "Answer me."

Sparkling tears seeped from the girl's glowing eyes, "I... I do not know..."

"Why do you continue?!" Tycon's voice grew louder in urgency, near shouting in her face, "Why haven't you abandoned your mission??"

He wished this could be a civil discussion. Circumstances dictated that he could not afford Diantha even that small mercy.

"Faith..."

"Your volume is pathetic! What was that?!"

The young lady clenched her jaw, "Faith, Master Tactician..."

What did that mean? Was she referring to faith in her god? Faith in her religion's tenets? In her allies? In humankind? Whatever it was... she needed to prove it.

"Tss," Tycon scoffed. "Then you have more to give."

"I... hear you," Diantha sobbed.

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "Show me."

The channeling was nearly complete. With Diantha already pushing her limits, she was certain to suffer mana exhaustion like Eugenios. However, Tycon asked for more.

In this world and most, mana was present in all living beings. Not so obvious-- and not at all common knowledge in the Holy Country, was that being completely drained of mana was a death sentence. If the rate of Diantha's mana output remained consistent... whether she drew from the last of her reserves or from her very soul, she would die.

Was it worth it? For her, Tycon did not know. For those who relied on her... Tycon could not say. Still, her efforts were necessary to reactivate and overload the third seal.

Another human hand was placed onto the etched stone formation.

"You are not alone in your faith, Diantha," Zenon said quietly. He offered Tycon a small smile in apology.

Tycon crossed his arms, glaring. Zenon was going against his wishes... but he knew exactly what he was doing.

Sanctum Librarius, Centurion Zenon was choosing to invest his mana reserves into easing Diantha's burden. He was saving her.

The Centurion was not wrong to value the life of a sentient being. Tycon was not wrong for seeking mission efficiency.

It was just a shite situation.

...

Duelist Ptolema lied on her side, feeling miserable. Her left arm was definitely broken.

Karodin supported her, allowing her to sit up-- which still jostled her injury. She clenched her eyes hard, enduring the pain that traveled like lightning bolts throughout the entire left side of her body.

Pain meant she was alive... and that meant she was better off than a few members of her Snowy Village adventuring company.

They were dead.

Ptolema had no right to complain.

"Here, you go," Karodin unstoppered a healing potion and placed the glass to her lips.

"Bwohh!!" Ptolema turned her face away, "Mister Karodin! My arm is broken, not my spine!"

Karodin grinned like a fool, placing a hand behind his ruffled, dark blue hair, "I uh... I know that."

"Then *hand* me the potion," Ptolema glared. "Please."

"Right. Here," The Legionnaire smiled, "Drink slowly."

Ptolema began drinking from the potion bottle... She would have finished it in one gulp, if Karodin hadn't reminded her otherwise. The flavor was terrible, but as an Iron-Rank adventurer, she was used to it.

She felt a little guilty for treating Karodin of Emberhold so poorly. If she remembered correctly, the Brazen Guard Legionnaire was part of the group at the second seal-- and not even its strongest member. He had gone well out of his way to help her and her guild out of a dire predicament. She'd apologize later.

Karodin's almost overbearing helpfulness made no sense. They had only met a few suns prior. They weren't from the same city or anything like that. She doubted it was because he favored her, as Ptolema wore men's clothing and Karodin hadn't heard her voice until just recently.

He was stronger than he looked, too. The way he blocked the Lake Eel's charge just by bracing his shield... It was something she expected out of the Brazen Guard's guild leader, Bannok-- not from him.

"Mister Karodin, you live," The green-haired Tactician approached the two of them, his cloak billowing in the wind.

As pretty as he was, his voice was... incredibly annoying to hear. She and Karodin had literally just-survived a life-and-death situation. They could do with a little gratitude.

"Yep!" Karodin flexed his sword arm, "Ptolema and I took down four."

Ptolema held her tongue. All she had done for the final four Lake Eels was defend herself. Legionnaire Karodin did that, as well... while keeping the creatures' attention... and defending her... and finishing them off, too.

Strong. Humble. Selfless.

Ptolema sighed. He was superior to her in every way. She definitely needed to apologize.

"Oh." The youthful Tactician's eyes passed over her in judgment, "Miss Ptolema... you appear to have survived, as well."

The way the Tactician spoke to her made her want to punch him in the face. As rude as he was, though... he was definitely an ally. Also, the particular gold color of his eyes unnerved her slightly.

"Wait-- MISS Ptolema??" Karodin turned incredulously, "You're a girl?"

Ptolema glared daggers in response. She might have preferred trousers with pockets to a skirt... and sure, her hair was incredibly short after a run-in with a fire elemental a few moons prior... but her name was obviously female. By the Flame, this man was ridiculous.

There was no way she was going to apologize after that remark.