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However... Zenon Skyreaper defeated the construct with magic alone. 

Tycon surmised that Zenon's new crimson lightning skill was similar to Silver Pyromancer Photios' flames. The spell wasn't quite elemental in nature... instead, the effect was divine-- supernatural god-magic. 

Theories aside... the ability was certainly powerful. If Zenon could learn to harness that power reliably, he would be able to consistently challenge opponents above his rank. 

Lone approached Tycon with a troubled look on his face... 

"Boss... there's a weird gas coming out of the armor-thing."

Tycon looked over with annoyance... scanning the noxious cloud with his System. 

Hm... That was troublesome. 

"Brother-Zenon, I'd like you to take care of that, if you would..."

"Huh?" The Librarian snapped out of his reverie, "Oh. Sure thing, Optio. 

Tycon would have rather not tasked the gentleman immediately, hoping to grant him time to reflect. However, the cloud the Iron Golem emitted after its defeat had the potential to kill one or more Letalis members. 

A gust of wind later, the deadly cloud diffused, allowing the members of Guild Letalis to safely search through the corpses for loot. When none was found, Lone, Salt, and the other Gunners began to sever body parts from the fallen, as well as recovering their Legion insignias. 

Athena had questions. 

Tycon answered her, the best he could. 

The Tyrion Adventurer's Guild provided monetary rewards for proof of Dungeon monster kills. The coin reward for devil-hunting was higher than that of the weak bird-parasites-- the wings they did not bother to collect. Also, the block of jelly that Korr had defeated a bell earlier hadn't left any substantial evidence of its passing. 

Also, quite obviously... the Mosaic Guardians had dissipated into mana dust, which had already been collected and was worth slightly more raw, rather than converted to coin. 

It was somewhat a macabre task to collect devil parts... but Tycon assured the little Vanzano that devils don't die. They get banished for a period of time, from a few years to hundreds, and would reincarnate afterward... often in a weaker form, depending on the nature of their death. 

Such information didn't seem to ease her comfort, for whatever reason. 

Tycon checked his pocket watch. It was time to return to the rest of the Brazen Guard collective. He looked forward to the sharing of information and discussing the overall group's next course of action. 

...

Tycon did observe a young, Iron-Rank Shadow Snake spying on them from a dark crevice. In response to a murderous glare, it had the wisdom to dart away before being properly discovered. Tycon hoped that Anthemon and Azalea had properly informed their kin of his message:

Guild Letalis was not to be targeted. 

Though Tycon did not wish to, he had no compunctions against committing genocide against a snake-blooded faction that dared to show him blatant disrespect. 

The weak must respect the strong.

...yet it is within their right to challenge their oppressors, to see where the balance truly lies. Tycon would play that 'game'. He and his guild were more than strong enough to win by way of brutality, murder, and threats of the aforementioned. 

Such a social game was far more complex amongst humans... but its core concept remained simple. 

Take what you deserve. Concede, if reasonable. When the balance of power shifts, repeat. 

Guild Letalis had returned a quarter-bell early, a coincidental circumstance rather than an intended one. Among the few guilds that had arrived, Tycon recognized Legionnaire Karodin and Guild Snowy Village, the Brightstars, and a few others. 

Guild Stormbrand had not yet returned... nor had Raphael of Cannes. 

He found the fact unnerving. He did not consider the Letalis Bravo a lazy gentleman. The fellow had a good sense of both professionalism and punctuality, as both a minor noble and a former soldier of the Kingdom. Tycon feared that Raphael had encountered a situation he could not easily withdraw from. 

"Hey, green-hair!" Weaponmaster Bannok sauntered towards Tycon with a smirk on his face. Blood had dried on his helmeted forehead from a minor injury, "You're only fifteen minutes prior! That means you're LATE!"

Tycon smiled grimly. If Guild Letalis was late, so was near-half of the collective. He assumed the grinning human was poking fun at him by citing a concept drilled into military veterans. 

"Brother Bannok," He nodded. "Have you found anything of value?"

"Eh, not really." Bannok removed his helmet, wiping blood and sweat from his bald brow, "Found a lot of ghouls and ghosts.... got a few pieces of Dwarven loot, good for coin or as minor upgrades for some of the kids. How 'bout you guyses?"

"Mimics," Tycon shrugged, "A minor ⌈Summon Devil⌋ ritual. Nothing too unusual."

"Devils? Flame take me..." Bannok groaned. "We fightin' some of those Bael Turath pukes?"

Tycon shook his head, "The facts are inconclusive. The Gates were basic. It is probable that our enemies have or *had* a Second-Circle caster in their employ... and even that is uncertain."

It did reinforce the fact that there were at least two different Formation Mages who had worked on the various Dungeon defenses. A Dwarven mage had crafted the powerful barrier that guarded the entrance and the defensive measures on the bridge. A lesser-skilled mage had converted the entrance barrier into a Guardian summoning and was likely responsible for the Gates and the Lesser Iron Golem that Letalis encountered. 

Bannok replaced his helmet and scratched at his bearded chin... "Well... you're the expert."

"I feel the need to remind you that both your wife and scoutmaster are just as versed in such knowledges."

The human looked to the floor, chuckling quietly... "Ahh... You got me there, guy."