Headed by a Snake

Chapter 167 Training Hall

?Two weeks had passed peaceably since the attack by Dread Pirate Liang Qiang. According to the Marine instructors, since then, the ghostly attacks were greatly reduced in frequency... though ghostly activity rose and fell like the tide.

Lone and Pale participated in the physical training sessions of the Marine recruits. They ran beaches with rocks sharp enough to split their boots. They swam creature-infested waters until their muscles spasmed. They kept Private Pyle alive. Their wounds healed over and scarred, their hands grew calloused, and the muscles on their backs were beginning to solidify like rocks.

While the recruits received knowledge-- tradition, structure, Sea Wolf specific tactics... Lone and Pale chose to relax with the other instructors at the training hall. Such was the benefit of belonging to Invictus and not being directly under Sea Wolf charge.

Wroe waxed on about his love life, "I saw a Slime Girl on the Unfortunate... an exquisite source of aberrant beauty. If only I could lay eyes upon her once more..."

Pale stood at the center of an arena pit, enclosed by a circle of dark stones. He was playing with his Lifedrinker spear, trying to spin it around his wrist, "Mister Wroe... I think you're talking about Lieutenant... Eilean? I think?"

Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark, shivered lightly at the invasive thought, "Eugh... A Slime Girl, really?"

Wroe smiled gently with his eyes closed, "Miss Eilean appeals more to the senses. I daresay her embrace is more thorough than this Madison I've heard about. What do you think, Lone?"

Lone and Tarquin Wroe relaxed around the sand pit along with Marine Lieutenants Shao Ran and Eleven of Seven. At Shao Ran's request, Pale began to perform the motions of an Ivory Judge sect spear kata.

Shao Ran yawned as he stood up, taking off his coat. He scratched his head of light-brown hair and rotated his back for a stretch. The Sea Wolf had gained a dark scar on half of his face like he had been severely burnt. However, that and the full tattoos on his back made him only look more intimidating.

"Y'all should keep away from Eilean. Haven't you heard the rumors? She's more man than woman. You know? She's queerer than a three-silver coin?"

Both Lone and Wroe looked over with confusion.

Eleven of Seven stood up, a set of armor, full 4-fulms tall. His helmet, shaped like the head of a bull shark, seemed to scowl at Ran with annoyance, "It is common knowledge amongst the Sea Wolves that First Lieutenant Eilean has a p--"

"YARR HARRR HRRR!!" A ghostly echo reverberated through the training hall.

Lone stood up, hurriedly grabbing his two wolf-hammers, "What was that?!"

Ran shrugged, "Eh, don't worry about it. Nothin' important."

"Paranormal activity within acceptable parameters," Eleven agreed.

A transparent-blue form coalesced into the arena... a bald pirate with an eyepatch, a long ponytail of pale hair, and a myriad of potions strapped to various belt holsters and a chest bandolier, "Yarrrr... You fancy yerself a SEA WOLF, booooYYYYYYY!??"

Pale looked over to his friends, "Um... guys?"

? Ran shrugged. Eleven gave a hand signal of two upward thumbs.

"It's probably fine," Wroe offered.

The ghostly pirate unsheathed a chipped, ghostly cutlass, "Have at thee boy, I challenge ye to a--"

Pale smashed the ghost in the legs with the haft of his spear, dropping him. Once the ghost hit the ground, Pale stabbed twice in the chest, and once in the throat, ghostly ectoplasm spilling from the wounds.

"Yar har har harrrr!!" The pirate laughed as he grabbed the spear end. With his opposite hand, he began to smash potions into his mouth, chewing on the small glass bits and causing his form to glow red and orange.

Lone turned to Ran, "Wh-what's happening?"

Ran whistled, "It appears Pale's worth red and orange. Go Spear Team!"

"The boy has improved since the raid on the Saltspray Kings," Eleven nodded.

"Magnum BREAK!!" Pale lit up in a geyser of flames as he leapt up and stabbed the ghost in the head.

The ghost dissipated without fanfare. Ran and Eleven applauded politely with Wroe and Lone joining in shortly after.

Ran stepped into the arena, shooing Pale away, "Alright! My turn, young'un."

"Go Spear Team!" Pale cheered.

The ghost pirate reappeared, again wielding his cutlass, "Bah! You, then, Sea Wolf!! Taste the steel of--"

Ran's halberd, Ferocity, hacked through the ghost's neck. The ghost, undeterred, slashed and stabbed at Ran, who dodged and slipped each attack with graceful precision. Finally, Ran was forced to block a strike, and though he stood fast, his feet moved a yalm back in the sands.

"Pfff. This guy's got a really heavy sword," Ran spat.

The gem inset on Eleven of Seven's helmet glowed, "Lieutenant Shao Ran, should you die, no one will mourn your loss."

"This again? Can't you come up with better after all this time?" Ran groaned.

"It is not a threat. It is a theory yet to be disproven," the armored man countered.

A few of Shao Ran's powered flame-halberd attacks later, the ghost dissipated. The ghost had crunched on even more of the potions than when fighting against Pale. The glow emanating from the ghostly figure was also red to orange, with the orange light more apparent.

"I get it!" Pale placed a fist on an open palm, "The ghost has the Alchemist class! That's how they use so many potions."

"More orange than red? That's good, right?" Lone asked.

Ran walked out of the arena less than pleased, "Eh. I've done better. I usually get to white but I injured my knee--"

"Lieutenant Shao Ran often makes excuses when he fails to perform," Eleven interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, coral cunt? I'd like to see you do better!"

Eleven crossed his metal arms, "We shall see..."

It took several minutes for the ghost to reappear. Once he did, he sat down to recover from his injuries, idly drinking another few ghostly reds.

Wroe tilted his head and gave his trademarked gentle smile, "Are you enjoying yourself, friend?"

The scowling ghost glared with his one good eye, "Sod off, Magician. No one asked you a damned thing."

Dark mana began to rise from Tarquin Wroe's eyes, black like a cloud of ink, "Oh? ...Then perhaps I shall be next to entertain you."