"Boss... what are you doing with that?"
Wroe's voice contained a hint of uncertainty-- perhaps even fear.
Either or both were perfectly reasonable.
Tycondrius flipped his palm upward, a sleight of hand that revealed a single crossbow bolt.
"Um... BossSS?" Wroe's voice sharply rose in pitch. "If that's... for me, I can still cast ⌈Mana Ward⌋. Hah. It's... it's something you made me practice. A lot."
Ignoring the Warlock's blathering, Tycon began to apply poison to the bolt's tip. It was the same waxy substance recovered from the dark elves of House Spider Crab.
He was looking forward to observing its efficacy.
That is... unless his bolt was stopped by a ⌈Mana Ward⌋.
To circumvent that, Tycon gathered mana into his palm, shaping it to his designs.
And... with the purpose of inspiring fear, he made no attempt to hide the name of his Skill, "⌈Warlockslayer⌋"
"BOSS!!"
