"⌈Ruptis LUCIS!!⌋"
A certain woman's voice alerted Tycondrius to a magical attack.
A waist-high ring of golden light began to expand at a rapid pace from elsewhere on the ship.
Despite his absolute trust in the owner of that voice, he ducked and rolled to avoid it-- just in case.
It passed through the wood of the ship mast without resistance.
However, against the living, breathing minions of the lizard god: each struck was brought to their knees, clutching their midsections in pain.
Not bad.
Getting back to his feet, Tycon turned to the Spellcaster, having recently emerged from the lower decks.
Natalya Crucis stood tall, channeling another Spell through her enchanted staff.
Tycon wondered if perhaps she was the one to influence the Fleet Admiral's orders. The lesser Oracles under the command of the Holy Country's Archbishop had a certain reputation, after all.
