Headed by a Snake

629 Best Girl (Part One)

Krysaos, former Captain of the Sugar-Titted Siren, scoffed openly.

Tycon? Part of Sol Invictus? That was the biggest lie he'd ever heard in his life.

The guy was so full of shite... and his balls were so... painfully gods-damned huge... that he didn't just claim to be part of the legendary Ezyrian arena guild.

He said he was its gods-damned leader.

Sea god's motherf*cking codpiece.

"You know, Tycon," Krysaos clapped his hand on the green-haired guy's shoulder, "I think we're gonna get along just fine. Don't worry about being part of both an adventuring guild and my crew. You're good for it!"

"My thanks, Brother-Captain," Tycon smiled.

It was a good, honest smile. If Krysaos didn't know any better, he'd think the guy was telling the truth.

"And since you got the experience, I'm promoting you to Lieutenant!!" He declared... "I'm the Captain, though. Don't get that twisted, y'hear?"

Tycon's smile fell... but only slightly, "I uh... I appreciate it."

That was a normal reaction.

Being an adventurer, he probably wasn't too familiar with naval rank structure. Lieutenant did sound mighty impressive, though, and the more impressive Krysaos' crew was, the better it'd reflected positively on him.

Tycon looked over and past him... staring intently at something.

Krysaos heard it before he turned... low chittering and clicking... along with gurgling sounds and wet, web-footed feet on the sands.

He put his wooden plate down, drank a few gulps from a waterskin, and stood up, sword in hand.

"Well, well, well... Look what we have here," He grinned.

Tycon looked over. It was subtle, but he pushed his sword hilt out with his left thumb, "Brother-Captain... from anecdotal experience, such things are usually stated by the villainous party."

"I'm the scourge of the seventeen seas, LT," Krysaos shrugged, "Me and my crew-- we're not supposed to be the good guys."

"Fair."

The sahuagin came... no less than fifteen of them... and one of their guys in the back had a black flag with a white crow on it. Krysaos knew it... because of course he did.

"I've seen that flag before..." Tycon twisted his lips, "The pirates who attacked the Marlin Monroe flew the same."

"The Black Crow pirates," He chuckled. "Small fries. Nothing to worry about."

"That is a decidedly white bird..." Tycon frowned, "Also, the silhouette is that of a raven, not a crow."

"Oh yeah, you mean like the sword art..." Krysaos shrugged. "Pirates ain't the smartest bunch."

Tycon stared back... for a few seconds too long before nodding.

...Oh.

It made Krysaos realize he just insulted himself, "--not me, though. I'm smarter than your average pirate."

"Granted," Tycon replied with a straight face.

Krysaos pointed his stolen cutlass at the sahuagin that most looked like a leader, "Alright, ALRIIIGHT!! All you cunts should know who the f*ck I am... so why don't you all just f*ck right back into the ocean."

The biggest, baddest web-foot hissed at him... and his skin bubbled and popped as his entire form was covered in steam.

When the transformation magic was complete, he was a naked, muscular human male with a thick beard and long, sea damaged hair that went down to his shoulders.

And it had looked like the water was cold.

"Krysaosss..." He spoke in a deep voice that sounded like he gargled rocks. "We are not here for you. Give usss the Chosen One. That iss your only option."

"Yeah, no chance in the seven hells, I'mma do that!" Krysaos shouted, tightly gripping the handle of his sword, "That guy's part of my crew! And NOBODY f*cks with my crew!!"

Krysaos gestured at his Lieutenant, "Alright, Tycon, go get 'em."

The green-haired guy sighed and shook his head, looking at the beach.

"...What's wrong, guy?"

"The concept of having options denotes having multiple choices," He muttered... "There is no such thing as an 'only' option. Options either exist or do not."

Krysaos pursed his lips. It was something he'd never really thought about before.

He turned again to the transformed sahuagin leader, "You're making us pirates look bad, you fish-eyed cunts!!"

"...Common is not my first language," The naked man growled.

"Well, you should KNOW IT!!" Krysaos shouted, "You're standing on confederacy sands, right now. So GO BACK AND STUDY!!!"

Another of the sahuagin-- a female looked towards the leader with guilt in her large eyes, "I say, Anaru... you very, very, very... study!"

The others murmured along with her complaints...

"(Yeah, Anaru. Your Common is shite.)"

"(Why'd we elect you to be the one to talk, anyroad?)"

"(He was the only option...)"

"ENOUGHHHH!!" Anaru yelled, slamming the base of his trident against the beach, the ground cracking with Iron-Rank force, "I'm the leader, because I can transform into a HUMAN!!"

"That's really not all that impressive," Tycon shook his head. "I can do it, too."

"AND SO CAN I!!" Krysaos pointed his thumb at himself.

"...Do you have a different form, Krysaos?" Tycon whispered.

"No, but I'm pretty good at being human, aren't I?"

"I've no complaints."

"STOP IGNORING ME!!" Anaru jutted his massive head between the two of them.

"You still here?" Krysaos grimaced.

"Shall I kill him?" Tycon offered.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Tycon forcefully took hold of Anaru's thick human hair... and smashed his face into the still-smoldering cookfire.

He held him still with a wiry, muscled arm as he mounted his back.

"Going for the arm, LT?" Krysaos smirked.