Wings
Rixen was not in pursuit.
Tycondrius took in his surroundings, immediately discerning the reason why.
The sloughed scales of the Tyrant God were beginning to awaken, nightmarish godbeasts rearing their heads amidst the city's rooftops.
One in particular stood up and roared. If it was intimidating, it was only for its size-- nearly thrice that of the fattened gold, Gon Galdrun.
The accursed abomination looked nothing like the Tyrant God's firstborn children.
It did have scales? Though they looked half-formed, soft and misshapen.
It had two legs and a long tail for balance. But its upper body looked more like a spine-toothed plant. Or were those supposed to be its ribs?
It had a mouth of some kind. Or perhaps it was an anus.
And, of course, the freshly born spawn could still breathe. With the momentum of his descent, Tycon glided faster than its corrosive ⌈Breath Weapon⌋ could follow.