⟬ A short time later... ⟭
The Martialists of the Hidden Lake sect were highly trained individuals.
Though they were human, each was two or three times faster than a regular person. They used unique weaponry and well-practiced forms, striking accurately and with clear intent to maim and kill.
They also had excellent perceptive abilities, always aware of their surroundings.
Tycondrius found it... wryly amusing.
As he accompanied Krysaos towards the sect's inner sanctum, each man and woman amongst the enemy... met his eyes.
Perhaps it was... honorable to do so-- an understanding or... respect between warriors on the field of battle.
...To acknowledge the enemy... to be acknowledged in return-- it sounded nice, in practice.
Unfortunately for them, it allowed Tycon to affect each and every single enemy combatant with his bloodline-granted ocular ability, ⌈Vexing Gaze.⌋
Its passive effects were enough to make the various Bronze-Rank Martialists hesitate or slow. It made Krysaos' work that much easier in cutting them down, one or two at a time.
Of course, Tycon reasoned he could disable entire squads of similar-strength attackers if he were actively focusing.
However, it took far less effort and mana for him to walk about and allow his gaze to drift naturally, bringing about the last living moments of various battle-hardened warriors.
"Just about--" Krysaos drew a deep cut across a female cultivator's left thigh.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtHe grabbed her spear and slashed her throat out. Spinning around, he smashed the spear haft into a swordman's side before ending them with a rapier through the throat... "--done!"
"One more," Tycon snapped his fingers.
Infused with a sudden burst of mana, Krysaos drew his sword back and hacked his rapier down into the side of the last living Martialist's neck.
The good Captain swiveled his head around to take a better look at his surroundings, "Whew. That's all of them? Haha HA! Check it out, LT. I'm pretty good now, yeah?"
"The result of your hard work and efforts is clear," Tycon smiled with chagrin.
He was tempted to remind Krysaos that over the past half-bell, they'd defeated a similar amount of enemies in personal combat.
...But that would dampen his friend's excitement-- which would be rude.
Krysaos adjusted his clothing, wiping a bloody hand on the front of his coat, "We're almost there, LT. I can feel it... Soon, I'mma get to use this pistol on that sea-slug-sucking sea god."
"Mhm," Tycon mused... "I'm looking forward to the best you can do."
⟬ ⌈Inspirational Surge⌋ conditions met. Activate? Y/N? ⟭
« Do so. »
⟬ Activating. ⟭
Tycon motioned Krysaos to walk beside him as they strode further into the worked stone halls. The Captain was growing impatient, and it showed with the way he allowed himself to take errant blows and shallow cuts.
With his recently solidified Iron-Rank physique, he was unaffected by minor injuries.
Still, Tycon did not hesitate to use his healing Skill. It behooved Krysaos to be at his best for the coming trials.
"So the Water Temple's somewhere down here?" The Captain asked.
"Ah," Tycon raised an eyebrow, "instead of answering directly, I'd like to ask... have you been developing your mana sense, Brother-Captain?"
Krysaos closed his eyes and took in a deep breath... "I can tell... there's... pure water mana somewhere around here... and we're getting closer."
"Nine out of ten points," Tycon chuckled. "'Pure' water mana, so to speak, is not something you or I will find outside of the eleven heavens."
"Whatever," Krysaos shrugged... but as his grin remained, his spirits seemed unaffected, "What happens when we find the source?"
"We shall create a Gate using the ritual scroll Lady Ophelia has provided us."
"A Gate?" Krysaos furrowed his brows, "You mean like the one that took me and the crew through the Trap Path-- except not as difficult, yeah?"
"Unfortunately," Tycon frowned, "that may not be the case."
From what he knew of his bloodline memories, the Water Temple was a horrific place filled with eldritch horrors and insidious traps meant to fend off Heroes and god-servants.
Journeying to that place was... in hindsight, a foolhardy plan of action.
It was, however, the fastest and simplest way to achieve both Krysaos' vendetta against the sea god and recover Divine Resonant Energy for Coraline's quest.
Tycon opened his mouth to stifle a yawn.
Despite the danger, he still felt more annoyance from having to kill Ying Yue than fear for his and Krysaos' life.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm"If you're having second thoughts, Brother-Captain, speak now."
Krysaos immediately responded with an indignant scoff, "Tch. Nah. We gotta go through with it. This is probably our best chance at saving Mina, after all."
Tycon tilted his head, "I'm sorry, what?"
What in the seven hells and eleven heavens was that supposed to mean?
"Whoops," Krysaos unsheathed his rapier as he dashed right, "here comes trouble, LT."
"This conversation is not over, Krysaos!" Tycon warned before he broke to the left, drawing his short sword.
The deepest part of the Hidden Lake sect's Inner Sanctum was clearly of Elven make, the wood and stone not worked, but twisted to a caster's will.
Tycon's enchanted boots splashed over carefully directed shallow streams atop tiles emblazoned with sigils in Ancient Elven. Skirting the outer circle of the chamber, he kept his eyes towards the center... at an archway large enough to fit one of Imperia's War Karkinii.
A swirl of nigh-pure water mana coalesced at its core. For a moment, Tycon was concerned it was a hasty activation of the Gate Ritual... but it was clear after several moments that it was an entity.
It was sentient.
...And it was hostile.
Ultimately, though... it was about the level Tycon expected.
⟬ Adamantine Rank Guardian Beast. ⟭
"Watch out, LT!!" Krysaos shouted, "It's taking form! And it's lookin' REAL f*ckin' nasty!!"
"...Granted," Tycon pursed his lips as he sheathed his short sword.
He was growing tired of using his curved blade... but nevertheless, he summoned the sheathed weapon from his spatial ring.
At the very least... he looked forward to testing the results of the weeks of training he'd undergone in Ying Yue's Reality Marble.