“Brace yourself!” Triandal yelled while he grabbed the nearby balustrade himself.

The shock was even stronger than the first time, but the sailors had been warned beforehand and most managed to stay standing.

“The hull resisted!” Jorik shouted.

“But it’ll not last indefinitely...” Triandal said out loud.

A heavy silence followed his words as everyone looked at him. Was this how they would all die?

“I… I…” Triandal started but he could only shake his head in despair.

How could they fight against such a monster?

Meanwhile, Mahon finished a silent exchange with Jorik. He could do something. But he needed to be sure.

He took a deep breath and threw a knowing look at the noble while gripping his lance tightly.

“Don’t let me drown.”

Jorik nodded with a very serious face. “Never.”

Without adding anything, Mahon jumped over the balustrade. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the dumbfounded looks of the sailors that didn’t understand what was going on.

The puzzled face of Triandal who tried to make sense of what they had just said.

The shocked expressions of the passengers who couldn’t believe he had just jumped right into the maw of death.

Jorik's icy blue eyes that burned with a conviction he had rarely seen before. It was the look of someone who wasn’t afraid. The face of someone unfazed. Peaceful. Ready. Focused.

It was a look that Mahon would have bet his life on. And so he teleported right next to the monster without any lingering doubt.

His thirteenth step brought him twenty meters under the surface, and Mahon immediately felt the intangible pressure of the sea weighing on his mind. He refused to let his fears take the best of him, however, and he plunged his lance deep inside the flabby skin of the kraken’s main body instead.

Mahon didn’t waste time removing it, and he directly teleported himself with his spear to another point of the huge monster’s body. He pierced its skin again, and this time the monster was completely shaken out of its grogginess by the pain.

Soft spot?

The kraken tried to attack the petty human that was harassing it, but it didn’t even manage to touch it. Mahon teleported away just in time and followed in the same smooth motion by another strike deep into the creature’s body. He continued like that, dodging the kraken attempt to tear him into pieces while stabbing the monster to death.

Soon, the creature gave up the fight, and it rushed away, trying to shake off its opponent. But Mahon held tight and continued his butchery. The kraken was moving at incredible speed through the water, and the pressure uprooted Mahon more than once, but he immediately teleported again near the kraken and stabbed at it.

A dozen strikes later and the kraken turned sluggish. It wasn’t completely dead, but Mahon’s lungs were starting to burn so much he knew he couldn’t afford to stay any longer without breathing. He looked around him only to realize he could barely distinguish the surface from the depths.

Fighting against his panic, Mahon teleported back to where he guessed they came from.

His brain wanted him to breathe, but Mahon fought against his own instincts as he frantically searched for the surface.

A lighter shade of water finally led him in the right direction, and he pushed his Flow to the limits to teleport as fast as possible towards it.

Shortly after, he found the dark shape of the ship surrounded by the warm light of the sun a hundred meters above him.

Just another five steps. Come on!

One.

Two.

Thr…

Mahon’s next teleport brought him forty meters away from the surface, but by then his body betrayed him and his mouth opened forcefully to inhale. Mahon coughed immediately after and lost the control of his Flow.

Still refusing to give up, he started moving his arms and legs to swim up, but he was way too slow and inefficient. His vision started to blur just as he witnessed a silhouette coming towards him, half swimming, half teleporting.

Mahon smiled.

Right in time, Jorik.

----------------------------------------

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Notitia Region!” Triandal gestured for the plot of lands barely visible on the horizon. “We should be there in the morning, and that would be the end of our journey.”

“And the beginning of a new one!” A passenger commented.

They had needed a month and a half to finish the last quarter of their journey. The sails hadn’t been damaged by the kraken, but the boat’s structure had been severely weakened, and although the ship stayed afloat, the captain didn’t want to risk it by going full speed.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

No one really complained, and they continued their leisure routine of playing chogess and chatting about travel and business ideas. Mahon’s feat wasn’t really understood by the crew, but they all got that it was because of him that the kraken had been chased away.

Jorik was the only one who knew exactly what had happened, and although he was proud that he had finally been able to perform a thirteenth step after months of coaching by Mahon, he realized he was still way behind him.

The incident was quickly forgotten in the following days once they understood Mahon wouldn’t talk about what he had done, but the way the passengers looked at the two young bodyguards changed after they had seen their abilities in the battle. Given the duo wasn’t interested in business opportunities and only played chogess, it didn’t change much in the end.

As for their last day together, the passengers shared an amazing dinner. The fishing had been good since they were now closer to the continent, and the captain opened a few bottles he had kept for that very occasion.

They talked, drank and laughed until late in the night, and only the sound of the sailors maneuvering into the harbor woke them up.

Mahon and Jorik quickly gathered their own stuff and disembarked shortly after. Triandal was saying goodbye to Dirtue, the young solitary woman, on the dock, and he waved to the duo as soon as he saw them.

“Jorik! Mahon!” He exclaimed. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” He extended his right hand and shook both men’s arms in a friendly way. “If by any chance I happen to be here when you want to come back, I’ll be more than happy to have you again.” He winked.

“Thanks, Triandal.” Mahon smiled.

“It was a fun adventure.” Jorik nodded. “I’m for sure looking forward to another swimming session.” He added with a smirk in Mahon’s direction, and Triandal laughed out loud.

“Ah! I’ll miss you, guys. Do try to buy a chogess board and play a bit. I feel like you could soon play against me, and that would make the journey even more interesting!” He moved closer to them and said with a lower voice. “And good luck for whatever your mission is.”

The duo nodded, and they parted ways. Triandal stayed to organize his ship’s repair while Mahon and Jorik moved deeper into the town.

Greencoast Harbor was actually more than just a harbor. It was the most city-like and peaceful area of the entire Notitia Region. It was not controlled by a tribe, but by the Ripa Kingdom, and it looked like a smaller version of Smoothgulf.

No tribes would ever attack Greencoast Harbour as it represented the only way for people to come to the otherwise very inhospitable Notitia Region. They would actually dig their own graves if they ever choose to antagonize the Ripa kingdom by taking control of Greencoast Harbour.

As such, the city was the perfect area to conduct business, and the only safe place to hire guides to travel around the country.

Mahon and Jorik wandered in the city streets in search of the popular pubs for adventurers where they would be able to hire their own guide. After asking for directions to the locals, they were quickly directed to the hub place of adventurers, the Vieux-Campeur.

The Vieux-Campeur wasn’t just a pub, it was actually a whole street of pubs and shops. Some rich merchant had bought the shops one after the other along the ages and had extended his business to cover an entire street. The Vieux-Campeur street provided everything that was needed to travel within the Notitia Region and its neighboring countries.

When Mahon and Jorik entered said street, they could already smell adventures. People from all origins and ethnicities were discussing together, walking from one shop to another with enthusiasm. Pubs were the perfect places to find people, whether companions, guides, guards, or business partners, while shops were full of necessities to prepare a journey either through the sea, jungle or mountain.

Jorik entered into the first pub he saw with Mahon in tow, and after stating their business to the barman, they were redirected to another pub, specialized in journeys into the Notitia Region. They walked to that second barman and repeated their request.

“Where are you looking to go exactly?” The man asked with professionalism.

“We want to meet the Silent Bow Clan.” Jorik answered.

“Hmmm.” The barman nodded. “Meeting is out of what we provide, but going there should be within our capacity. Just take a seat and wait.” He pointed to an empty table. “I’ll post your offer in a minute.”

“How does it work exactly?” Mahon asked, curious.

“It’s very simple. We post our offer on the wall, and interested people will directly come to you. If you don’t find anyone within the day, we can arrange for something different, but most of the offers are met within the next couple hours, so no need to talk about that now.”

“So we just sit there and wait?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For free?” Mahon asked again with a dubious look.

“Sitting at a table actually requires that you order something to drink.” The man answered with his best customer smile.

Mahon chuckled. “Two beers, then.”

“Immediately, sir.”

Mahon and Jorik went to sit down, and they witnessed the barman posting a little note on the wall half-full of notes. A few people in the bar immediately walked up to the board and read it. They all walked back to their seats shortly after and thus started Mahon and Jorik waiting.

They were on their second beer when someone picked up their note and walked to them. He was a short man in his fourth century with a friendly but serious face.

“Hello, sirs. You posted this?” He handed them the note.

“Yeah.” Mahon answered after glancing at the note.

“May I sit then?” He pointed to an empty chair by their table. “I can lead you to the Silent Bow Clan.”

The man’s name was Zanorin, and he was a well-known and respected guide within the Notitia Region. He knew the country like his own backyard, and it had been twenty years since he led people to wherever they wanted within the Notitia Region.

Zanorin was a happy man that wanted nothing more than to walk around his region and bring people along so they could discover it. He didn’t ask for much money, and coupled with his friendly and very knowledgeable behavior, Mahon and Jorik quickly agreed to hire him to guide them to the Silent Bow Clan.

Following their guide, Mahon and Jorik went to a few shops to buy whatever they would need for the journey, such as warmer clothes, tent and dry food, because the closer they went to the mountain the lower the temperature were and the harder it was to find something to eat without the proper training.

Zanorin knew the whole Vieux-Campeur street by heart, and he got them some discount that almost made his own pay immediately profitable to Mahon and Jorik. After the day of shopping, they agreed to meet again in the morning to leave Greencoast Harbour for the Silent Bow Clan.

Mahon and Jorik went to sleep in an inn that was suggested by Zanorin. They had trouble falling asleep for the ground was completely steady unlike the four and a half previous months. They were also excited about the following part of their journey.

They were now more than half-way through, and the closer they were to their destination the more exciting their journey became. Traveling wasn’t their only goal now, they also had to get used to the Notitia Region and befriend the Silent Bow Clan if they wanted to continue forward. And the closer they approached the Gedrain Kingdom, the more chances they had to meet an Ill Immortal…