The sun was at its zenith as the pirates of Isulon made their final preparations for departure.
From the balcony of his room, the former vice-captain coordinated the last preparations.
"That should be everything! Just in time…"
He froze.
From his balcony, he had a clear view of the sea off Isulon. But instead of a clear horizon, he saw a ship approaching the island.
Even though it was too far away to identify who it was, he immediately knew it was the Kasaka army, whose sole objective would be to wipe them out completely.
"WE HAVE NO MORE TIME! THEY ARE HERE!" he shouted to the remaining pirates, and panic immediately broke out.
He looked again in the direction of the ship.
Something was different.
A red dot was slowly approaching the island.
,That's not a dot!´
It was a rope made of pure flames, stretching from the ship all the way to the edge of his balcony.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
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Meanwhile, on the army's ship:
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Yes, yes. I am! And now don't bother me further. After a long time, I can finally have some fun again!"
'How can one have fun with this?' wondered the soldier who was speaking to Commander Paikon.
Paikon was as large as a gorilla, and many would say just as dumb.
In one hand, he held a handle, from one end of which the long flame rope began.
With one final gesture, he bid farewell to his men before reeling in the rope at an overwhelming speed, propelling himself like a cannonball into the pirate captain's room.
The captain barely managed to dodge but was buried under the rubble, under which the commander slowly rose, smiling at him with eager anticipation.
"So, how do you want to die?"
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The massacre only ended when the moon bathed the completely shattered harbor in its pale light.
The bodies of the pirates were scattered everywhere, greeting the arriving soldiers with their distorted faces.
The sole survivor was the captain.
Somehow, he had managed to escape and was now whimpering in the corner of his barely recognizable room.
He heard loud creaking footsteps slowly approaching him.
Something grabbed his head and effortlessly lifted him up.
It was the commander.
Holding him with just one hand, he asked, "Any last words?"
But as the moonlight began to reveal the commander's form, the captain couldn't utter a single word.
Paikon was drenched in the blood of his crew, his comrades.
Aside from the blood, however, his uniform was completely unscathed.
As was he.
No one had managed to leave even a scratch on him.
"None, huh? Well then! Nothing personal, kid!"
Suddenly, a flame rope shot out from the hand holding him, burning through his skull and then the rest of his body.
In the end, Paikon held nothing in his outstretched hand.
He sighed in disappointment and looked up at the moon.
"So, he wasn't the one who destroyed our ship!"