Headed by a Snake



A traditionally attractive, curly-haired blonde woman stood up from the full liquor bar and walked over with her usual, hip-swaying gait. 

"Good morning, Boss," Lulu said, raising her drink in a toast. 

In her hand was a stylish glass cup filled with a vibrant concoction. Franz was useless for most everything, but he had some skill in a particular modern magic... something he referred to as 'mixology.'

Perhaps that was why Tycondrius kept him around...

He steadily got to his feet. 

Last he understood, he was under the effects of mana exhaustion. 

That he was not... was highly suspicious. 

"Report," he growled. 

"It's all gravy in the Plane of Flamey, Boss," said the demon woman. 

She added a coquettish wink that was probably supposed to be charming. 

The statement (and the physical gesture)... told him absolutely nothing. 

He took a moment to examine his body... then his mana circuits. 

Everything seemed fine.

It might have even been 'gravy,' if he correctly understood the term by its context. 

But... 

"How?" 

Lulu flashed a dubious smile, "How did you get outta my Domain, Vignette Lock, without coming out as a diaper-wearing, mind-addled vegetable-- is that what you're tryin' to ask?" 

Tycon brought his hand to the bridge of his nose, "In not so many words, but yes."

"Mana transfer," the sex demon replied simply. 

Tycon grit his teeth, "Tell me, Lulu... what horrendous, debilitating diseases have I incurred? Do you have a checklist? How many can be cured?"

"Oh, you got nothin' from me," Lulu giggled, "Did you forget?"

She was holding a fan and covering her mouth. From where it had appeared, Tycon had no idea. 

He realized what Lulu was referring to. Demons of her bloodline were well known for their ⌈Mana Drain⌋ ability. The specialized mana transfer was highly lossless and the... sex magic involved made further increased its efficacy. 

However, the transfer efficacy from her to someone else was a cruel joke. 

Likely, more mana would be wasted than gained... 

But if Lulu wasn't the one who transferred mana to him...

The implications were just as upsetting. 

A shy, multi-eyed Jægerin and a still sleepy Troia looked toward him, each of them still in Pale's arms. 

Wait-- did either of those two have diseases? He doubted he could catch anything from Jægerin, but if Troia was a carrier for some kind of... Divine Affliction--

"Whatever you're thinkin', Boss, probably ain't the case," Lulu chided. 

"Me... with the children," Tycon grumbled, "I did not ask for this."

With Lulu in charge of the Mana Transfer ritual, he feared the worst. 

Was he going to be arrested? No. Troia was above the age of consent and there were few laws that governed demons. 

But still-- he had done the unthinkable. He needed to turn himself in for incarceration... but who would even take him? 

With his abilities, Tycon could escape nearly any prison. And he was wealthy enough to pay any fine... 

The Holy Princess didn't seem to be paying attention. Neither did she care, as she lazily rested her head on Pale's shoulder.

Jægerin tilted her head, her confusion obvious. That child couldn't be reasonably expected to understand human social boundaries. 

[Is Boss upset?] she asked, her voice soft and sweet buzz, resonating in Tycon's mind. 

"No, I'm not upset," Tycon sighed. "Just... disappointed."

"Hohoho~" Lulu chuckled, "Keep your mind outta the gutter, Boss. We used a Spell Circle. Nothin' LeWwwWd happened! Honest! But if that's what tickles yer pickle, then I volunteer as tri--"

Tycon raised his hand, "Say no more."

"I'm saying that I'd Eff the ever-loving Ess--"

"Lulu."

"As a friend."

"This conversation is over."

"There's like three or six Lust Demons in Infernus Invictus. So, jus' say the word, Boss! I can call the girls and boys togevva and we all can--"

"Nope," Tycon said as he turned and walked away. 

He found his enchanted sash, his sword, and sandals, and began to dress. 

Ah.

He turned abruptly, "The Kimura girl?"

The tent flap flew open, Kimura Taree appearing as if summoned by magic. 

--curse magic, most likely. 

"Boss!!" she screamed. 

The silver-haired youngling charged him... thankfully, without any hostile intent. 

However, Tycon was in no mood for physical affection, especially from the member of Pale's retinue that he liked the least. 

He held his hand out, grabbing her face to keep her away. 

⟬ Kimura Taree, Gold-Rank Titan Berserker. ⟭

The petulant child slapped his hand away at the wrist and embraced him in a full hug. 

"Boss!" she said, "I missed you so much!" 

Bah. 

The young lady had sustained critical injuries when he last saw her. 

...She still smelled of yarrow root, a healing herb. 

However, it seemed that she had recovered well enough-- likely with the assistance of Troia's healing magic. 

That was good. 

She was crying into his chest. 

That was somewhat disheartening-- but that was the effect Tycon had on women. 

"I'm sorry," the whelpling sobbed, "I'm so sorry..."

Ah. So that was the reason for her tears. 

What could he say? 

That she was a fool? 

Stating such an obvious, historically-consistent fact was superfluous.

That she dared to venture alone, challenging something she couldn't possibly defeat? 

She already knew. 

That her selfishness was the sole reason that Dragan was thrown into a fiery pit of death? 

She knew that, as well. 

"You're safe now," Tycon said quietly. "Trust in your companions... and in Sol Invictus. Promise me that much, young lady."

"I... I promise."

Tycon caught the eye of Princess Troia. 

She was crossing her hands at the wrist, fists inward. 

[Hug her.]

Tycon pointed his thumb toward himself and lightly shook his head. 

[I refuse.]

Troia repeated her action in a more exaggerated manner. 

But why?

Would that even solve his problem? 

A slow grimace crossed Tycon's lips. 

And-- due to the insistence of a certain Holy Princess... he returned the Kimura-girl's embrace. 

Still, she continued to cry. 

How useless... 

He knew giving into Troia's demands had no benefit! 

Hm. 

Thinking on it... he could appreciate that the Kimura child retained a high degree of loyalty to him.

And... though it was somewhat odd, it seemed that, unlike Pale and Troia, the silver-haired whelpling scarcely grew in height. 

Thus, Tycon patted the miserable child on the back, thrice exactly. 

That... made her cry even harder. 

Tycon looked up, sending a steely glare toward Troia. Logically, she held some of the blame for the situation.

Then, he glared at Pale.

It was more appropriate for the noisy whelpling to be crying into *his* shoulder. 

*He* was Kimura's traveling companion.

AND he was a Hero! 

Heroes were (and were not) a great many things. 

However, one thing that Tycon knew for certain, was that Heroes were *not* supposed to pawn off their problems to others! 

[He looks really mad,] Jægerin buzzed wistfully. 

[He's not,] Troia signed. 

The holy child was confidently incorrect on the matter. 

"I... I thought I might've lost you too," mumbled the tearful child in Tycon's arms. 

"Nonsense," he replied, "If I die, it will be from overeating, heartbreak, or grave disappointment."

With his last words, he chose to glare at Pale once more.

⟬ ⌈Vexing Gaze⌋ conditions met. Activate? Y/N? ⟭

« No. »

Pale returned an unabashed smile, before turning to smile at either woman in his arms. 

⟬ ⌈Vexing Gaze⌋ conditions met. Activate? Y/N? ⟭

« Tempting, but still, the answer is no. »

Tycon let out an exhausted sigh. 

He had a rather rude awakening... but it seemed that various issues had been solved. Kimura Taree had been extricated from danger. Pale's quest for vengeance had been completed. 

However, in the process, Dragan had gone missing, lost (or dead)... but he could trust Lulu to find him (or his body.)

And during the battle, Tycon had pushed himself far beyond his limits.

Then, in order to fix him, two members of Pale's retinue had severely exhausted their mana pools... 

He should have been grateful. 

...but a small part of him wished they, instead, left him to die. 

Still...

Jægerin and Troia's Dawnbringer would recover-- and likely faster than he would, on his own. 

He would make it up to them in the future. 

But before that, Tycon needed to resolve his current predicament. 

Thankfully, with Lulu's presence, he had a way to return to the Material Plane and therefore keep his word to his sister. 

"Clock Devil."

⟬ 6 bells, 44 minutes, 42 seconds remaining... ⟭ 

Tycon rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

His plans in the Plane of Fire had progressed at a rapid rate. However, the way he handled that person resulted in losing all the time he thought he'd gained. 

Tycon was done speaking to the children. He summoned a ripe melon from his spatial ring and told them to quietly talk in a corner of the Command Tent. 

Then, he made his way to the card table, joining his longtime companion.

"Lulu, I have need of your magic."

"Huh?" gasped the dramatic demon woman, "You need my sex magic for something?"

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