625 Soul Burn

His companion had protected the ship's main mast with her unarmored body. Without it, the Marlin Monroe's sailing speed would have slowed to little faster than a turtle's crawl. 

However... besides Korr's choice of defense being horribly reckless... it was inefficient. 

Also, it was stupid. 

Either of them had the requisite reflexes and strength to deflect the cannonball with a weapon attack. Korr's Blackblade was strong enough to resist damage-- as well as Tycon's adamantine scabbard. 

Even with a mundane weapon, sacrificing a metal item worth two dozen silver was better than risking bodily harm. 

Tycon was frugal with most everything... with the notable exception of expenses concerning combat arms and armor. Most adventurers were unable to fight after being killed. 

"That's not the best you can do, young lady...." 

He whispered gentle words into Korr's ear to activate his ⌈Inspirational Surge⌋ healing Skill on her. 

Even without wearing armor, her Gold-Rank physique allowed her to take a cannonball to the back. Since she'd survived, she'd eventually convalesce well-enough with magical healing. 

Still... the attractive woman was on top of him, her hips mounted over his... Then there was the fact that she wasn't wearing armor leggings, but cloth trousers. It was a highly improper position for a superior and subordinate. 

"Korr... can you... get off, please?"

The woman blushed furiously. 

The sounds of clanks and turns continued from high above the mast... and suddenly... they stopped. 

And... a fishing net fell upon them. 

Before Tycon could act to cut them free, he spied a piece of parchment tied to one of its corners. It had a message written upon it... and he easily discerned that it was in the Capulet's scriptwriting. 

'Don't worry and have fun. Sincerely, Sorina.'

Tycon exhaled deeply, trying to control his rising anger. 

He was going to kill that woman... in a violent and fantastic manner. 

...or maybe he'd forbid her from using company credit to pay for her meals. That would probably hurt her more. 

"It looks like we are trapped," Korr spoke stiltedly... before snuggling into his chest. 

"Right," Tycon rolled his eyes. 

"We'll get you out of those nets, adventurers!!" A sailor yelled. 

Tycon breathed a sigh of relief. A team of three veteran sailors was approaching, armed with swords and pistols. 

"Sea god's shoulderpads, a net?" A sailor with a clean shave and pink hair whistled, "These traps are vicious!" 

"Looks like the mast is safe." The thick-muscled one nodded, "You have our thanks, adventurers, but we could still use your help."

"You two GETTIN' IT ON while there's a battle about? Yar harr har harr!!"

Tycon waved as best as he could, while the blushing Korr hid her face with her hands, "Don't mind it. Please, just get us out--"

--A spring trap launched the three sailors overboard.

Sorina. 

She did this. 

Tycon was going to kill her... raise her from the dead using illegal magic... and kill her again. 

Then he'd force her to pay for the ordeal. 

"Well, well, well," A group of pirates slowly approached... carefully stepping around the spring trap. 

"Yar har harrrrr! Look at this, Cap'n!" A tall, gangly pirate chuckled, "It looks like we found a coupl'a sea rats, stuck in a sea rat trap!!"

Tycon grit his teeth. He was strongly considering using his alternate form. 

⁆ "Whoa, hold on, what do you mean alternate form? ⁅

« I'm not human. Are you surprised, Krysaos? »

⁆ Well, yeah... a little bit. ⁅

« You're not either. »

⁆ WHAAAAT?! What do you mean? ⁅

« ...I'd like to finish the story, if you'd allow it. »

⁆ Oh, right. My bad. Go ahead, Tycon. ⁅

Tycon was a Maedar-- a male of the medusa bloodline. One of his bloodline abilities allowed him to metamorphose into a snake... and to a different-sized, differently-abled snake at his discretion. 

His small-form transformation would allow him to slip free, but his large-form could easily break the net and free them both. 

Further, his white, armored scales would blend in well with the fog and be an absolute terror to the pirates... and the sailors, but they seemed generally useless with all of Sorina's traps littering the deck. 

⊰ Do not even consider escaping, Snake. ⊱ 

Tycon sighed in his mind. He sensed the intent of an outside consciousness in the recesses of his mind... and he was fairly certain who it was. 

« Shahram, I presume. »

⊰ Indeed. Though I loathe you, just as I loathe all mortals... my charge desires you physically and emotionally. ⊱ 

Shahram was the Adamantine-Rank weapon spirit residing within Korr's black-bladed greatsword... 

« I noticed... You do realize there are social and professional constructs in place that would prevent a successful relationship between her and I, yes? »

⊰ If you refuse my request, I will burn your soul into nothingness. ⊱ 

« ...And you do realize that, so inconvenienced, it is very possible that we may both be killed, yes? »

⊰ If you escape the net and survive, I will burn your soul into nothingness. ⊱ 

...It seemed Shahram was not to be bargained with. 

Transformation was no longer an option, then. 

"What'll we do with 'em?" One of the pirates mused, a weak-looking scoundrel picking at his ear, "What... to do..."

The dark-skinned Pirate Captain leered over the two of them, stroking his trimmed beard, "The green-haired lad will fetch a handsome price when we get him to the slave auction."

The thought insulted Tycon greatly. 

"I will NOT be a common slave to be auctioned in PUBLIC!!" 

He dropped Korr to the deck, her rear still against his crotch and her legs splayed over his hips... and managed to summon his crossbow out of his spatial ring. 

Though he had limited space to move, he aimed and pulled the trigger. 

The bolt struck the Captain in the heart, and he died nigh instantly as the paralysis poison coursed through his system.