Though he wasn’t safe per se, the level of risks had plunged. Deadly concerns didn’t distract him, immediate threats didn’t surround him anymore. The slight spooky hum from beneath the water wasn’t here to keep him on edge, the fins of death didn’t circle his iceberg, and he’d left those massive tentacles behind that bode their time for a chance to strangle him.
His Astylinds secured the place, they stood on yellow alert around him—on the table, on the bed, near the door. The conditions were as favorable as it could get for him on the ship. So, he attempted his breakthrough for the eighth awakening.
…
…
…
He exhaled the long-held breath, his lungs emptied, and his tension left with the warm damp air. He breathed in, and the cold but salty wind packed his chest.
The feeble wall had finally crumbled; he demolished it and strode over to the next level. He now stood at the eighth awakening, one step away from the peak. His spirit calmed down, he fell back and lay on the bed, his breaths and his heartbeats echoing in his ears.
“Krorks spotted! Starboard ninety degrees, ten minutes out!” Someone hollered on the top deck, it broke the serene silence.
That was a warning call; Ewan sent all his Astylinds in the runes and headed out. The slaves who’d yet to shatter eyed him, their feral glance tingling his senses, yet only the hubbub from above echoed in the corridor and their breaths reigned quiet.
Mayhem gripped the usual systematic deck, but it had a rhythm to it. The shipmates dashed around, brushing shoulders but never colliding. Some hauled the ropes to furl the sails, some prepared swords and sabers, and some readied their Astylinds. Most had a bird type of the wind element; a handful had the water type.
The captain was on the poop deck by the wheel, scanning the starboard side with his patinated scope.
“Trigger the shield,” the captain said to the shipmate beside him as Ewan approached them.
“Cap, we’re running short of crystals and coins. It won't hold for long,” the shipmate said in a husky voice. He probably just woke up from a long nap.
“We should have some in reserve,” the captain said.
“That’s the last of ‘em.”
“Use some of it, buy some time,” Cork said and sent the shipmate away.
“Need help?” Ewan asked.
“Usual shit, just didn’t expect them to hit us so close to the shore,” Cork said. “If ya can help, I’ll give ya your discount.”
Ewan panned his eyes across the starboard—the ocean was calm, as calm as it could be with the tides; he couldn’t see anything from there. But the sentry had called, there must be some danger heading for the ship. And if it didn’t have the captain breaking in cold sweat, then it was something he could wipe the floor with.
“I want half the loot,” he said. “Plus, thirty percent discount.”
The captain laughed. “Is your help worth that much?”
“Your sailors might get injured, but I won't let any die,” he said. “If you up the discount to fifty, I won't even let them get injured.”
Cork stared at Ewan, tapping the scope on the wheel; the metal clattered against the wood, and the lens quivered in its notch. “And if ya can't?” he asked.
“I’ll let go of my share and will pay you full,” Ewan said, chuckling. “You’re not taking much risk with me. Even if I do fail, I won’t get in the way, it’ll all be the usual for you.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
A milky transparent barrier encased the ship, random pale streaks racing on its surface. It isolated the ship from outside, not even the wind came in. The ship came to a gradual halt, swaying with the waves as the mast creaked.
“Fine,” the captain said, looking at the shield. “Get ready, ya have fifteen minutes.”
……
Ewan observed the barrier while the shipmates readied for battle. This was a sustained barrier of ice element, unlike what caged Obria. The structure was solid but brittle, one crack could bring the whole thing down. He followed its connection to the main mast and used his Ryvia to scan the spell circuit inside. It was crude, prone to damage, and had no defense against inside attack. He could kill the shield with a thought if he wanted to.
The quality and the construction gave him an idea of the ship’s background. Even if the barrier couldn’t compare to the one that shoved Obria to its demise, it still wasn’t something an Asheva at the fifth awakening could buy. Unless Cork was opulent in secret, this scenario couldn’t come true. But if he was, he wouldn’t dive into slave trading. Someone more powerful than Ewan backed this ship, he now had confirmation. And he heaved a sigh of relief and thanked his prudence that eventually defeated his impish side. If those bleak years hadn't turned him into a cynic and a skeptic, he would’ve created an avoidable enemy here.
“We’re ready, cap. Save the crystals,” one of the shipmates that led the group on the main deck yelled.
The ‘Krorks’ were wrestling with the shield so far but were unsuccessful. Ewan leaned over the railing and scanned one of them as the barrier flickered.
Krorkey—native Starons of Airadia. Half an average Human’s height; pale-ivory skin; frog-like face; fins for ears; a large, bladed fin on their back; and a flat tail that acted as a rudder. They matched their description in the explorer’s edition books he had up to even the small details.
Dumb, dim-witted, and dull, yet they had a short fuse, they saw red in a heartbeat. Their lack of a spoken language and their fondness for violence hindered the formation of a working society. They lived in small packs underwater and opted to loot and hunt instead of striving for self-sustenance. Their habits made them the perfect pirates, it amused Ewan.
The Krorkeys climbed the ship, their claws bored holes in the wood.
“Get ready!” the leader of the shipmates yelled; and the Water Pelican perched on his shoulder squawked with his wings unfurled.
The Krorkeys shrieked in response.
Ewan moved back to the main mast, to the center of the deck. The strongest of the Krorkey was at about Level-3 or 4, he didn’t need his big guns.
They mounted the railings and jumped on the deck, howling, as the sailors attacked. But before they clashed, Ewan threw his hands sideways and chained all the Krorkeys in place with his billowing Ryvia; some hovering in the air, some ready to claw. Ghost-silence washed over the deck; the shipmates gaped at him after the initial confusion.
“Go ahead, you can kill them now,” Ewan said and shattered the moment.
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Status: Healthy
Step-0 [8th Awakening]
Name: Ewan Ayres
Species: Human
Vitality: 1.9
Spirit: 15.2
Anima: [Fire – 15.2 | Ice – 15.2 | Blood – 15.2]
Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [8th Awakening]
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Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
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Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-B]
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Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-7] [Grade-C]
Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.
Novas: 94
Crelith: 4984