545 Star-Fury

Tycondrius gave her a sidelong glance, "Do you realize that you're nagging me as if we're wed?"

Natalya was the last person that should be scolding him. Tycon was only in the Holy Country as a favor to her. 

However... he decided to allow it. It was amusing to see the woman scrunch up her face as she did. 

"Ohhh, I get it. You're upset!" She crossed her arms. "Now that we have a proper Hero, I no longer have to suffer an arrogant philanderer from a forgotten adventurer's guild. That's you, by the way."

"Hm, very well," Tycon gestured dismissively. 

"What~?" The woman squinted her eyes and leaned forward with a smug smile, "Nothing witty to say in response?"

Tycon sighed internally. Natalya had an unquenchable need for getting the last word in an argument. When he previously relied on her favor, he gave in to her whims. Thankfully, she no longer had that luxury. 

"Natalya, you wound me," Tycon feigned offense, "You used different words to describe me, last we were alone~"

His words caused a surge of murmuring from the nearby acolytes and soldiers. As expected, Archbishop Natalya Crucis' face turned as red as her robes. 

Tycon found that particular expression to be... endearing. 

As the latent magic from the summoning ritual began to diminish, the glow around the floating Pale began to fade. His radiant armor shell cracked... and burst harmlessly, spreading glittering sparkles wondrously across the room. 

The young boy was wearing a handsome, pristine military coat and trousers-- but without any markings of his rank. Such was done, in order to publicly act without direct affiliation to the Alizeaun military. 

His attire was curious. It was as if he knew he was going to be teleported against his will to a foreign country. 

"Ohhh, he looks like a young Prince!" A female acolyte whispered. 

"I ship him with the High Oracle," Another said. 

That would be dangerous. Tycon made a mental note to warn the young man to keep a respectful distance away from reasonably attractive women that wielded the power of an entire nation. 

...He'd simplify that, somehow. 

Still levitating, the boy moved his legs and found himself unable to walk normally. 

That was normal. Tycon initially hypothesized that the young man was not in control of his flight capabilities. 

But as usual, the boy confounded his expectations. After a few moments of testing, he began to fly about, performing a few acrobatic flips and soaring high above. The assembly applauded. 

...Ever the exhibitionist, that boy. Though the thought was troubling, his father was the same way. 

High Oracle Troia began to form a series of hand signals and the Priestess beside her translated: "Young Hero from faraway lands! You have been summoned to save our world from dire peril!"

"Oh!" Pale grinned in embarrassment, "A-alright. I'm coming down, now."

The young man began his slow descent towards the High Oracle. However, his timing was... unfortunate. 

Pale's summoning was a Fourth-Circle ritual. Any accompanying spell effects, such as flight, would be logically weaker than the base spell. A flight spell, if cast only at Third-Circle, only lasted minutes. 

Several had passed. 

As Tycon expected, the flight enchantment's duration expired. Pale plummeted down towards the stage. 

Tycon glanced towards the closest exit. 

The last time he tried to escape a crowded event was at the Caeruleum coliseum. There, he failed to evade capture by Natalya. 

This time, his chances were excellent. He was wearing a set of Decanus armor-- and there were plenty of Decani in the hall. He could also wear his helmet to hide his uncommon hair color. 

Pale, in true Sol Invictus fashion, crashed down on top of the High Oracle. 

"Th-th-th-the HIGH ORACLE'S FIRST KISS?!?!?" A certain Gold-Rank Priestess screamed. 

This prompted roars of indignation from the crowd. 

Tycon took a deep breath as he circulated his mana. He was preparing to run for his pitiful life. 

"HHHWHAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTT?!?!?!" Natalya Crucis screamed. With mana instilled into her voice, everyone in her immediate vicinity was knocked aside. 

Tycon leapt aside, emulating the effect on the lower-Ranked ladies and gentlemen-- though he was a quarter-second slow. Wiggling his body like the snake he actually was, he burrowed into the pile of bodies, trying to blend in. 

Tyrion steel was drawn from their sheaths. Tyrions were openly weeping. There was screaming and... gnashing of teeth. Several powerful persons were channeling mana, making animalistic noises. 

Tycon ignored it, the best he could, quickly and methodically low-crawling away. 

A pulse of mana, more domineering than the others, blew Tycon's helmet off. He grabbed it before it could roll away, though. It was expensive. 

"I will not STAND FOR THIS!!!" Natalya screamed, "I don't care whether or not you're a HERO!! No one, I mean NO ONE! TOUCHES! THE! HIGH! ORACLLLLLLE!!!""

The band started playing again... which was a nice touch. Either such madness was frequent in the Basilica or the professionalism of those musicians was outstanding. 

"The HEAVENS SCREAM FOR VENGEANCE!!" Natalya went on. Her mana was almost going berserk and she was emitting a swirling red-pink light. The tiles beneath her were cracking apart from the pressure, and bits of debris were beginning to levitate. 

That was a bit overdramatic. All this for a simple mistake? Pale's fall was obviously an accident-- to Tycon, anyroad. 

Also, the boy was younger than the High Oracle. He didn't understand why everyone was so offended. 

Religion was strange. 

Natalya raised her arms and screamed to the heavens, "⌈STAAAAR-FURYYYYY!!!!!⌋" 

Tycon narrowed his eyes. That sounded like a skill... a very powerful skill. He paused... and turned back to look. 

A sixty-fulm tall, crimson-red suit of armor had coalesced into the hall, reaching nearly halfway up to the ceiling. 

That was probably Star-Fury. 

It seemed that Pale was going to be killed. 

...which was a shame.