Headed By A Snake 370 Illusory Worlds

"Cunning..." The orc growled as he flourished his long, curved blade. "You'd have made a fine Orcish warrior."

Tycon grabbed onto his dislocated shoulder and painfully jammed it back into place, "Oh, shut the h.e.l.ls up, you green-skinned battle maniac."

Garock chuckled as he raised his broken sword once more... "Make peace with your G.o.ds, warrior Tycondrius."

"I'd rather not. I don't like him much." Tycon shook his head as he circulated his mana for another skill, "⌈Shadowfang Strike.⌋"

Tycon disappeared in a cloud of smoke, utilizing his second movement technique. Circling to Garock's side, he swung his enchanted short sword at the orc's tree-trunk neck. 

Predictably, the orc reacted as soon as Tycon reappeared, blocking the strike with what was left of his broken blade. 

Tycon undimmed his vision and redirected his mana to his eyes, relying on the Samurai's Gold-Rank perception to be affected in that brief moment. 

⟬ ⌈Vexing Gaze⌋ activated: Ocular ability. Target takes damage from an illusory poison, affecting both target's mind and body. If successful, target becomes distracted and may go into anaphylactic shock. ⟭

Garock flinched. 

While Tycon highly doubted the skill's poison alone would defeat the orc, it was enough to bring about his downfall. Tycon charged mana into his sword, changing its form to his segmented blade whip. It carried its momentum from its strike, wrapping tightly around the Samurai's neck. 

Tycon hopped up, placing both his feet against Garock's chest. 

"DIIIIIIE!!!!" He screamed, straightening his legs while yanking his weaponhilt hard. 

The metal shrapnel of the enchanted whip tore the orc's throat open and exposed it to the cold air. Tycon smashed onto the ground, rolling backward defensively... just in case the orc survived. 

Garock fell to his knees, clutching at his bleeding neck. 

He... looked defeated. 

"M-medusa bloodline..." He managed, before gargling for air and collapsing to the ground. 

Still on a knee, Tycon held his aching head. He had used too many skills in too small a period of time. 

Annoyed, he flicked his wrist to return his weapon to its short sword form. Then, he stabbed the orc through the heart. And again through the neck. 

The satisfaction lessened the pain in his head very slightly. 

"This..." Tycon choked and coughed more blood... "this isn't even the best I can do."

⟬ ⌈Inspirational Surge⌋ conditions met. Activate? Y/N? ⟭

« Yes... Please. And... thank you. »

⟬ Activating. You're welcome. ⟭

...

Tycon stood up from the kneeling, finding himself once more in the field of frozen statues. In particular, he stood in front of a frozen orc who was kneeling down, staring up in hopelessness. 

It seemed that Samurai Garock's defeat had returned him to the Brazen Guard battlefield. 

"⌈Legionbreaker⌋," Tycon beheaded the statue. 

After healing himself, his wounds had closed, but his mana reserves were low and he felt like his head was stuck in a vise. He was not proud of his sloppy victory. He only felt irritated. 

The White Lady floated above the field, continuing to sing her song about how pathetic she was and how she was wronged so many years or epochs ago. 

Nearly half of the Brazen Guard seemed to be under the effect of the Dread Wraith's illusions, performing noticeably nonsensical actions. A Warrior was swinging her weapons around in a circle, screaming in the old Tyrion language. An Archer was firing blindly at their surroundings. A Champion had collapsed, curled up in a ball, and was bawling like an abandoned child. 

The remaining survivors had turned into transparent ghosts, some of them with their bellies eviscerated and their guts eaten. Were they all dead? Tycon sighed, glancing in the direction of the war camp. He was strongly considering abandoning the field, withdrawing to camp to eat a meal and go to sleep. 

A familiar corporeal form caught his eye... Tanamar of House Vanzano materialized into flesh, holy lance in hand. The young man took two steps forward, breaking a frozen statue by spearing it in the chest. Immediately after, he rushed to a different statue and placed his hand upon it, turning translucent and ghostly once more. 

How difficult. The adventurers that were not susceptible to the Dread Wraith's illusions seemed to be captured by her Reality Marble. Thankfully, as much as the White Lady above was concentrating, she would prove relatively easy to defeat...

Tycon had only to find someone capable of shooting down a creature fifteen fulms in the air. 

...He immediately began searching for one of the Brazen Guards' Gold-Rankers. Weaponmaster Bannok, Hunter Felinus, Priestess Ariadne... each of them would do a better job of defeating the Dread Wraith than himself. 

"You took EVERYTHING from me!!" A woman shrieked. 

Somewhat bemused, Tycon turned to the charging, screaming Iron-Rank Adept... "I don't even know who you are."

The girl thrust her mana charged arms out to her sides, silvery flames sheathing her fists. Though she faced Tycon, her eyes were unfocused, looking at something far in the distance. 

The Adept's interruption was slightly troublesome, but her exaggerated attack-pose left her open. 

Tycon hopped forward and planted a fist deep into her abdomen, destroying her concentration and causing her spell to fail. Grabbing her by the throat, he slammed her back against the hard, icy ground before standing up and continuing on his way. 

The battlefield was a chaotic mess, offensive spells and skills activated at random. Even so, Tycon remained calm and unbothered. With how steady his heart rate was, it felt like he'd experienced hundreds of battles similar. 

Walking throughout, he carefully dodged errant attacks, either nullifying his attackers or circ.u.mnavigating them by keeping his s.p.a.cing around the frozen statues littered around the area. 

While doing so, he hastily began to identify persons amongst the Brazen Guard that were known to him... If he could disrupt the illusions, victory would soon follow. 

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