664: Real Good Thing

Real Good Thing

Tycondrius scoffed once more at the absurdity of the thought. 

Him? A Chosen One? A being capable of changing the Realm, saving it from whatever calamity might otherwise befall hundreds of thousands of sentients? 

Besides being unqualified, he had no interest in it. 

As for Krysaos... 

If the fates decreed that Krysaos was a Chosen One for... literally anything, it was likely that the Realm would be destroyed in full, during Tycon's lifetime. 

Ugh.

Then again, the fates did enjoy their dramatic irony. 

[One more question remains to be answered...] Atlantea closed her eyes... the third eye on her forehead opening and staring deeply. 

...Tycon was slightly surprised, as he had assumed the mutation was vestigial. 

[And only you, Tycondrius...] Atlantea smiled... [and you, Krysaos... can answer.]

Tycon shared a look of uncertainty with his companion...

"Is it a sex thing?" Krysaos asked with a lecherous leer. 

[No.]

"Damn."

Tycon twisted his lips to the side, "Go ahead, Atlantea."

[Are you two... hungry?]

Tycon chuckled to himself. 

He had mentioned food earlier, but it was in jest. Food was plentiful upon the Neptune's Revenge, and Tycon was certain that Captain Krysaos would wish to return as--

"I'm FAMISHED!" Krysaos shouted. 

"...Brother-Captain," Tycon placed his hand on his chin. "Our crewmates are waiting for us, just outside the city."

That was where he had hoped they had returned to, anyroad... 

"They eat poop!" The man insisted, "They'll be fiiiiine."

[Has this one ever been so honored?] Atlantea giggled, [Would you allow me to lead you back to the receiving hall? And perhaps you, Tycondrius, would like to assist me in... preparation for your meal?]

Tycon sighed and shook his head. Though he wished to continue his quest as soon as possible, with Krysaos' insistence on staying, he would at least be able to entertain himself in the meantime. 

...

⁆ So there I was... in the damn near center of a fortified sea base. ⁅

⁆ In theory, I was surrounded by hot mermaid girls, just waiting for me to rescue them. ⁅

⁆ In truth, there was no getting away from the slug suckers posted outside. ⁅

⁆ ...which made it all the weirder, seeing just who I saw. ⁅

"That you, Stickyfingers?" Krysaos asked.

A very familiar ghost-pale Coral Boy was swimming by, a burlap sack bulging with loot slung over a shoulder. 

"Oh, heEyy, Cap'n," Stickyfingers waved, his stony brows raised. "Don't mind us. Jus' pickin' up a few fings for da ship while we're 'ere."

Krysaos pursed his lips, "How'd you get past the guards?"

"Oh, you know 'ow it iz. Me and da boyz-- we'z real sneaky-like."

...More than Stickyfingers were in the city? It shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. 

"Just... keep to the shadows, boyo," Krysaos shook his head. 

"No worries, Cap'n, hurr hurr hurr..." The Coral Boy chuckled. "We won't leave no witnesses, we'z promise."

Stickyfingers began to swim away, but he suddenly swirled around with a devious grin on his broad, porous face-- "Oh, Cap'n. Dere is one fing."

"Yeah, what's that?" 

"'Ad some trouble lootin' da inner sanctum-- one fing, really, an' it's a real good fing. Door's open for you an' da LT."

"Right," Krysaos crossed his arms... "See you back at the ship, then."

"Blood and f'under, Cap'n."

"Yeah, yeah. Victory at sea," Krysaos waved the Coral Boy off. 

Swimming back towards the receiving room... he found Tycon waiting patiently, "You finish screwin' the fish girl?"

"...There are multiple ways I can answer that question," the LT frowned. 

"Oh, come onnnn!" Krysaos groaned. "Screwin' fish girls ain't illegal!!" 

"A gentleman doesn't divulge such information," Tycon teased with a smirk. 

Yeah. They f*cked. 

"Whatever, guy," Krysaos shook his head. 

"Tss," Tycon scoffed. "Besides that, if you are inquiring about the status of the meal, Atlantea still needs time to prepare."

"Tight," Krysaos nodded. "Come with me. We're goin' on an adventure."

"...Very well."

...

With Ishmael summoned and disguised as a handsome ship Captain, Krysaos and Tycon made their way through the temple.

They arrived at what he was pretty sure was the inner sanctum after dodging a few temple acolytes who weren't particularly paying a lot of attention. 

"Security here is... horrid," Tycon remarked.

"I figure temples aren't really places that get raided a lot," Krysaos shrugged. 

"Brother-Captain," Tycon frowned. "You are a pirate."

"I," Krysaos gestured towards himself, "am a professional. And professionals have standards."

"Are you saying you're above looting a temple-- even one belonging to an ally?"

"No. No, I am not," Krysaos pushed the door open. 0

The place was more-or-less bare... but there were a few statues that looked like they should have had gems or something in their eyes... and some probably used to wear clothes. Krysaos could tell, because they instead wore the large pairs of underpants he knew the Coral Boys wore. 

Tycon gestured with his good hand, "Are those..."

"Ayep."

"How did they..."

"I dunno."

There was one thing the Coral Boys didn't take... and it looked like a sword stuck in a pedestal. 

"Check it out," Krysaos swam over to it, "The Master Sword. Once I draw it, I can be the Hero of Time."

It was a blue-steel rapier with a golden hilt... perfect for a Pirate Captain such as himself. 

Tycon frowned as he inspected it... "That... is not the weapon's name."

Krysaos tugged at the hilt, "Once I claim it, I can name it whatever I want, LT-- ooh, this thing's stuck. Wanna give it a go?"

The green-haired Lieutenant took over... and pulled out the sword with surprising ease. He immediately took hold of the blade and offered the hilt over. 

The guy was probably Iron-Rank. Strong as hells, that LT. 

"Aha!" Krysaos exclaimed, "Thanks, Tycon."

"Of course, Brother-Captain."

Krysaos felt a surge of cool water mana flowing through his body. The thing was enchanted, for sure. It'd be useful, as long as they could get it away from the temple-- no one was using it, anyroad. 

He'd just have to ask Tycon to put it away in his storage ring. 

pqdm.com