Headed by a Snake

Barza and Bucket had been tracking the Gann for half a sun. To that end, Bucket insisted on following a terrified looking piglet. Barza suggested eating it, but Bucket kept a strong opinion that the creature was their best guide to the Gann den.

Barza worried that besides him, everyone in Invictus could talk to animals.

He didn't want such a stupid skill. He figured it would be inconvenient-- like what if they started asking him for money? But still... Barza couldn't help but feel a little bit envious.

Bucket was pretty nice about it. He translated most-everything the animals said, so Barza wouldn't feel left out.

"It's really, really, maaaaad!" Bucket was screaming, his shrill voice almost hoarse.

"I can tell that much!!" Barza yelled back.

The two of them had lured the very angry Gann out of its den, so they could fight it in an open area. It was a large, bristly boar with greenish fur and an orange mane so bright it hurt his eyes. Even on its four cloven-hoof legs, it stood taller than Barza, and it looked even bigger with its curved tusks, longer than swords.

However... the strength behind its goring attacks was... surprisingly weak.

Dragan hit harder. Dragan hit a lot harder.

Barza clanged together the flats of his swords above his head, "Come here, you stupid pig! I'll give you something to be mad about!"

The Gann tried to lunge forward, but Barza was ready for it. With his swords in a cross above his head, he swiped down with both, striking both of the boar's tusks. The Gann stopped its charge like it had struck a wall, shaking its head, dazed.

The distraction was enough. Bucket slid underneath the boar's belly, slashing his sharp spear at its soft underside. The monster squealed in pain, stomping and trampling beneath it, but Bucket had already escaped and scrambled up a nearby tree.

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...The kid was... really skillful.

It was Barza's first time seeing the boy in combat. They had done dozens of other things together-- shopping, chopping wood, ten-thousand squats, running away from a Devil-Bear… and he'd thought of him like a younger brother.

He was always impressed by the boy's optimism and sincerity. But only recently had he realized that the boy was... really good at fighting. They could be rivals!

Anyroad, with the way they were being trained together, it was natural that Boss Tycon and the others constantly compared their progress.

It motivated him.

"Your enemy is me!" Barza brandished his blades, attacking with renewed fervor and fury.

The Gann began to panic, facing the barrage of steel. It staggered backward, suffering painful cuts on its large snout. Backed in a corner-- enraged, it whipped its head and tusks forward-- the strength and speed, easily able to gore a grown man to death.

Barza stepped to the side, easily dodging the obvious attack. Cocking his rear leg back, he swung it forward, smashing it into the side of the boar's head. And with both of his swords, he swung the opposite direction, cutting two deep, satisfying slashes across the boar's face.

Stepping back to reset his position, Barza admired his handiwork. The solid kick felt good.

The giant Gann again squealed in panic, its eyes huge. It began to thrash its massive behind, back and forth. Barza's jaw dropped when he saw Bucket, panicking behind it, his spear jammed bloody and deep into the Gann's exposed anus.

…

Dragan gave a whistle of approval, "Boss, would you look at that. He got him in the butt. We taught him that, right?"

"I don't remember teaching him that," Tycon frowned.

The two Invictus veterans had stealthily followed the two trainees, watching the fight from the branches of a tall tree.

Dragan laughed unabashedly, "It's suuuch a good strategy, though. Eyes. Butthole. Even a man's di--"

"Tactic, Mister Dragan," Tycon corrected him with an annoyed voice. He was trying to focus on the battle below. "Tactics for an engagement, strategy for operations."

"Nuts." Dragan chuckled, "Oh, but did you see the kick, though?"

"The kick..." Tycon twisted his lips. "More of a taunt than an effective strike against a creature of that size. 1 out of 5. It's not an exhibition or a gladiatorial match-- 'style' is useless in the field."

Dragan grinned widely, the grown man's voice lilting up and down-- trying to be... cute, perhaps, "Boosssss! You didn't notice?"

Tycon frowned, finally taking his eyes off of the Gann, "What is it? Is it your Name-day?"

"It is. Can I have a present?"

"I can arrange for you to be on watch-- all of tonight."

"Ha ha ha!" Dragan laughed forcedly, averting his gaze, "F*ck."

Dragan admitted verbal defeat. He was not Tycon's opponent in that regard.

"Anyroad, have I missed something, Mister Dragan?" Tycon inquired.

"Oh, yeah, Boss. The kick!" Dragan immediately recovered his spirits, "It was kinda like the kick combo you used on him."

Tyocn shook his head, "I don't recall."

"You kicked him like ten times before you slashed open his chest."

"...I vaguely recall."

"And then you whipped out your thing and you pissed on him!"

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "I don't recall."

"Then maybe he pissed himself!" Dragan grinned wide.

Tycon let out a deep sigh, "What is your point, Mister Dragan?"

"I'm trying to say that maybe the training's working?"

Tycon rolled his eyes, "Of course the training's working, but the effects will be apparent in weeks, and not mere hours."

"Hey, man. You were the one that said Gear-Queer had potential." Dragan took on a different tone of voice, but the stupid smirk at the corner of his lips made it obvious that he was only feigning his indignance, "I'm just tryin' to say that maybe he's worth something, after all!"

Tycon took another deep breath and sighed. He forced a polite smile as he turned to face the massive brute sitting on the tree branch beside him, "You're right, Mister Dragan. I apologize and he is developing well. In fact, I was worried that I had pushed the young man too far-- that he'd be afraid of anything with kicks or swords, after that."

"Wanna bet 20 silver he'll piss himself?"

Tycon gave an incredulous glare. "What? No. The man can barely keep hold of his weapons, much less his bladder."

Dragan gave a long, whistle, "That's cold-blooded, even from you, Boss."

"I never claimed to be warm-blooded," Tycon rolled his eyes, focusing again on the fight... He raised an eyebrow, "Oho, I had forgotten about that."

"Aha. That's not like you, Boss." Dragan chuckled, watching on, "Usually, you know everything about the baddies."

The pair watched from above, as the injured boar's muscles began to ripple and twist underneath its green fur. Its orange mane began to glow with mana, growing thick and wild. It reared back and stood on its two growing hind legs and let out a great, rumbling squeal of power.

The Gann was transforming into its second and final form.

Tycon had no idea about the creature's abilities. A sun prior, he clarified with the System that the hoof tracks belonged to a Gann, but he had forgotten to check the System's description of it. He made a mental note to be more mindful.

"Weeeelllll!!" Dragan took his greataxe off of his back, "Now that it's transformed, it's shrugged off some of its damage. Shall we step in, Boss?"

"Hm." Tycon waved the Titanblood down, "Our trainees are yet uninjured. Let us continue to observe."