Headed by a Snake

After a moment, Tycondrius sheathed his blade and turned back to address his fool of a Captain.

The glowing-eyed human was writhing in pain, splashing about on the wet tiles,"ELLL-TEEeeeeeeEEE!!!!!"

It looked like he'd dislocated both of his arms and possibly sprained a few more joints.

The blood and fluids draining from his eyes, ears, and nose did look worrisome... but it was well-deserved.

"Ah, Brother-Captain," Tycon sneered, "Are you regretting your recent suicidal actions?"

"F*ck!" Krysaos screamed,  "LT! It hurts!! It HUU-huu-huuuuuRRRTSSSS!!!"

"Of course it f*cking hurts," Tycon groaned... "The mana coursing through your circuits are *several* times the amount a Third-Circle SPELLCASTER can handle, much less an Iron-Rank Martial Class."

"F*CK, man!" Krysaos sobbed, "Hhh... HELP ME!!"

...The arse wasn't even listening.

"Bah," Tycon cradled his head in annoyance. "I will-- just... grant me a moment."

Krysaos was experiencing a phenomenon called Mana Overload. Tycon had encountered it before, affecting two of his previous allies during his travels.

The fool-Captain needed an outlet... a way to expend his excess mana in a relatively controlled manner.

Unfortunately, Krysaos was not at all in fighting condition... and, quite obviously, Mina was unavailable to share the burden.

A different measure was necessary...

Tycon took yet another item out of his spatial ring, the ritual scroll detailing the construction of a Gate to the Water Temple. He chanted the activation phrases, three in quick succession sending a sharp lance of pain through the side of his head.

"Keep still and try not to explode, you," Tycon clenched his teeth. "And if you've any gods we aren't trying to kill, now is your chance to pray."

...

⟬ A short time later... ⟭

Tycon reached for his coat pocket where he kept his pocket watch.

It wasn't there, of course. He'd given it away several moons prior.

...He had neglected to purchase a new one in Whitehearth.

Sighing to himself, he made some mental calculations to estimate the passage of time.

He and Krysaos had progressed fairly quickly to Moon Crescent Isle's Inner Sanctum. However, it had still been over a bell. If the Hidden Lake sect had not yet mounted a proper counterattack... then Tycon would be as disappointed as he was surprised.

He hoped the senior enlisted members of the Neptune's Revenge would follow the previously-agreed-upon battle plan. That was... to withdraw back to the ship in a precarious situation, to reduce casualties.

His faith in those Coral Boys-- at least in following that order to the letter, was not high.

"I think... ughhhh," Krysaos sighed as he got to his feet, "I think I'm about good to go, LT."

The Captain's selfishness was astounding.

Tycon, himself was suffering light mana fatigue from chanting a series of sequential incantations. Further, he'd utilized a cast of ⌈Inspirational Surge⌋ and used Krysaos' and his own quota of healing potions to ensure the imbecile's survival.

Krysaos knees cracked loudly and he groaned as he stretched his muscles... "So, uh... how do we get to-- wherever we're goin'?"

Tycon glanced at the archway in the center of the Hidden Lake sect's Inner Sanctum.

A man-sized sphere of water mana rotated within.

It was made of the Guardian Beast's leftover essence, but it was no longer a primordial, entropic force. It was... shaped-- or... tamed.

The ritual formation around it was constructed with expensive chalk, expensive dried ingredients, and *very* expensive oils. The quality of the reagents made up for the hastiness in which it was activated.

Altogether, the result was aesthetically displeasing.

But... it was functional.

Therefore, it was also *active.*

It was... visually obvious how the two of them were going to enter the Water Temple.

"F*cking. look. at it," Tycon glared.

Krysaos turned his head, narrowing his eyes, "Ahhhh. Yeah... So that's my answer. Mhm. Yep. I feel dumb as shite."

"I concur with your self-introspection, Brother-Captain," Tycon took a breath to stifle his anger... "But in the very unlikely case that you can explain yourself adequately, I'll have you do so. Now."

...Krysaos turned his back, jamming his finger into his ear, "Can't uh... can't we just let bygones be bygones?"

Tycon got to his feet, unstuck the sword of venom from the tile and rested it on his shoulder, "I'm listening, Krysaos."

"Aw, sea god's cumsock," The Captain cursed...

He turned to Tycon with a troubled grin marring his face, "So you said that... what we needed was Divine Resonant Energy, right?"

"For Miss Coraline's quest, yes," Tycon glared. "What of it?"

"Well... I figured that a *Divine* Guardian Beast has lots of that... and... and since it's a watery beast-- I uh... I could use the same thing to power up Mina's reincarnation?"

Tycon massaged the area above the bridge of his nose... "While your logic is sound... you are woefully omitting the fact that you have an Iron-Rank, mortal physique... and you tried to absorb the energy of an Adamantine-Rank, IM-mortal construct."

"H-hold on," Krysaos waved.

After a moment, he keeled over and vomited the contents of his stomach... as well as an inordinate amount of muck-ridden water.

...Originally, Tycon was planning on delivering a furious punch to his human companion's abdomen. However, it seemed Kryasos was still physically shaken from his ordeal.

Thus, Tycon chose to postpone his premeditated act of violent, petty vengeance.

...but it was, however, inevitable.

"M... my bad, LT," The Captain wiped his mouth, "You were sayin'?"

"You are an *idiot*, Captain Krysaos. You took an unnecessary risk and very nearly died."

"...It... it can't have been that bad?" Krysaos forced a smile.

"Are you *questioning* my judgment?" Tycon narrowed his eyes.

"No! No," Krysaos shook his head. "I get it. I'm sorry, guy-- but uh..."

"But *WHAT*?"

Krysaos pointed towards the open Gate, "Looks like because of it, you got the thing open, yeah? That's... that's gotta be worth something, right?"

Tycon took a deep breath, "I was planning on using the magic of your heritage to power the ritual."

"Eh?" Krysaos tilted his head, "You mean... you were gonna use blood magic? Ain't that... evil?"

",