Headed by a Snake

Atlantea performed another one of her rituals, bidding the large oyster before Tycondrius and Krysaos to open.

Revealed within... was a bronze-skinned humanoid.

The short, dark hair was familiar to him... as well as the powerful build. However, the gentleman's body was more... lithe, its defined muscles more compact.

He was not human. The fellow's tapered ears were undeniable proof of that. Just as strange, his facial hair had not yet grown back, though it had been several suns since he'd last shaved.

The shape of his face was different than Tycon knew. However, a combat scar remained on his cheek-- one that he had personally seen the gentleman earn.

The oystered man was... Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark-ened... Elf.

Without armor... without clothing... he tightly held the twinned Swords of the Forgotten King in his hands.

"Huh," Krysaos crossed his arms... "Those... don't look like swords.

"They are... swords of a sort, Brother-Captain," Tycon assured him... "They look as they do because they are... Elven."

Elves preferred materials that could be worked naturally... or twisted with magic, rather than forged by hard labor, as only humans could, and how dwarves preferred.

The swords in Lone's hands were not made out of metal... but were instead formed of a type of ivory. Regardless of the make, the artifacts seemed to have retained a honed edge-- not that he dared to test that by hand.

He was certain he could resist Fourth-Circle domination effects due to the Mark of Pride inscribed on his soul. However... he feared the effect taking hold of Lone was closer to God-Rank magic than to Gold or Adamantine.

"He dead?" Krysaos asked, pressing his finger against the gaunt elf's cheekbone. "Was kinda hopin' for-- y'know... not dead."

"Mister Lone is under the effect of a six-pointed, dual-layer seal," Tycon explained. "He is effectively in stasis, the power source of which seems to be the ambient water mana in the surroundings."

[Do you know everything about me?] Atlantea teased, pursing her lips coquettishly.

"Not as much as I'd like," Tycon winked.

Krysaos groaned and rolled his eyes, "Aaanyroad... when we take this guy to the surface, the seal should wear off, yeah?"

"Correct, Brother-Captain," Tycon smiled with pride. "I daresay you're getting better at this."

Tycon could, of course, break the seal forcefully without issue. However, they risked not being able to activate one of Krysaos' Water Pearls before Lone drowned.

...Granted, he would ensure that the gentleman would live, but it was an unnecessary cruelty.

"Was pullin' it outta my arse, but alright," Krysaos picked at his ear, "Makes enough sense."

The Captain looked over to Atlantea-- who immediately crossed her arms defensively.

"Why's he naked?" He asked.

Tycon bared his teeth, "Admittedly, I have the same question."

[The outsider...] Atlantea began... [I might have hoped for... more?]

"His thing's pretty small," Krysaos shrugged.

"The waters--" Tycon glared, "are cold."

"So he's a grower, then?" Krysaos scoffed.

...If Tycon understood what Krysaos was asking... then he did not know the answer. He only argued the first point because it was unpleasant to hear his unconscious companion so insulted.

[The Chosen One I saw in my dreams could breathe under the waters as we do,] Atlantea 'sighed' wistfully, fluttering her eyelashes... [But you... you swim freely. Are you, perhaps, my Chosen One?]

"Yes," Krysaos responded without hesitation-- even though the Oracle was clearly not directing her question to him.

"I am doubtful of such a thing," Tycon grimaced... "and I answer for both of us."

[The question still remains...] Atlantea pursed her lips... her voice melancholic, but still retaining a spark of hope. [What my third eye sees always comes to pass... but perhaps this one will have to wait years or epochs for it...]

Tycon sighed and closed his eyes.

He did not consider his life a particularly auspicious one.

Sol Invictus member Pale was exemplary of such.

His father, Quay, was an Elven Prince, a powerful practitioner of the Blade Dance, and the guild leader of the legendary gladiatorial guild-- one known throughout the Realm.

Besides having a strong bloodline, the boy was also naturally talented at combat, soaked knowledge like water to a sponge, and had the requisite creativity and adaptability to survive his various courses of instruction.

With such advantages... he grew exponentially under guidance from experts in their crafts.

Tycondrius, Warlord Prince of Charm.

Dragan Ashlord, Swordmage Prince of Vralkek.

Tarquin Wroe, Hexblade Prince of Arcanite.

...Then there was Martialist Patriarch Kimura Daigo of the Ivory Judge sect and High-Captain Lang Hai of the Sea Wolf sect.

Maximus of Ezyria. Avenger.

Pale's diligence and hard work earned him the high tier martial class, Spear Hero. It wasn't impossible that he was or would become the most powerful mortal in the Realm.

Tycon had his own advantages.

He was a Prince like his close companions, born to the reasonably powerful War Queen Rylania.

He excelled with the White Raven school of swordsmanship, a simplistic and general sword style, effective in any setting and against any humanoid opponent.

He had approximate knowledge on many things, specializing in things of magical nature, and excelling in regards to spell circles.

He had an uncommon class... but not a particularly powerful one like Spear Hero Pale or Flame Raging Knight Korr or Hallowed Summoner Natalya.

The fates certainly enjoyed threatening him with catastrophic events... but he passed those off to the relevant powers.

A rogue warlord from the Plane of Fire was attempting to invade via a rift in the Kingdom. The Gatekeepers were notified.

The Sons of Qotal, loyal to the dragon god and heavily influenced by the snake god, they attempted to create an army of fire mages in the Holy Country. To combat that, Tycon borrowed the power of the last Samurai of the Screaming Silence and Hades, god of death and the dead.

Everything else he'd encountered had been relatively mundane and could be handled by utilizing his resources and personal strength.

...or did not exist.