“How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it.”

― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

At this point, I even miss the smell of actual dirt. Heck, I'd even go for another plant island...

After twenty days of flight, Ven doubted another landmass existed. If I was on Earth, I'd be on my tenth trip around the planet by now. Either he was about to see a familiar ice pillar in the distance, or this ocean was beyond what he could comprehend.

Vendak despaired, maybe I should turn around? Perhaps another direction from the icy continent would prove more fruitful. Before he could decide, something new finally appeared ahead. It was not a mainland or even an island, but it was just as good.

A comically large sailing vessel cruised across the calm ocean waves. It stood as tall as the largest cargo ship of Earth, and had dozens of masts that supported a complicated system of golden sails. The main hull of the vessel, constructed from sturdy-looking wood, was so red it was almost black in the low light of the dawn.

Despite its appearance, which screamed trouble, Vendak rocketed towards the blood-toned ship as if it was his only salvation.

Good or bad, these fellows will have maps and other such things.

If Ven got ahold of even a single map, it could point him in the right direction. Although, if they claimed to live full-time on this ship without ever visiting the mainland, he might've believed them.

You could fit a decent-sized town inside, livestock included.

Vendak doubted this was a peaceful township, full of villagers living their best lives. As he drew closer, the forms of several emaciated humanoids became clear. Some no longer showed signs of life as they dangled from the upper deck, nailed by their wrists to the guardrails and suspended by rusted iron and flesh. Dozens of beings, of all ages and genders, hung there as the blood from their wounds dripped into the water below.

These dead or dying people were very similar in appearance to humans. Short hair covered most of their bodies like a soft down. Large animalistic ears, alongside matching tails, distinguished them further. Their colors ranged across the spectrum. Blues and greens to soft browns and bright reds.

Beast people! Finally, some proof I'm in a fantasy setting.

While he wished it was under better circumstances, Vendak's fragmented memory of the fiction from his past, compelled him as he rushed forwards.

I've had my fill of humans, hopefully, other races will be less disappointing.

The ship was crewed by humans, with every other race he saw on deck either chained, or half-crucified to the hull. He'd come across a slaving vessel, or maybe a pirate ship.

Unfortunately for you guys, I'm not a big fan of enslaving people.

At this point, the humans in the various crow's nests noticed Ven's approach. An increased amount of speech sounded all over the ship.

Probably spreading the word that an ominous shadow is approaching.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He ignored the unrecognized words of the slavers and came to rest on the rearmost railing of the crimson ship. Nailed to the wood a few feet from him, a grey and blue-furred young woman dangled limply.

Her wolfin ears hung beside her face, her head loose on her neck. Her long hair covered much of her features, a grey tide. She still clung to life, though her breath came in ragged gasps.

As he checked on the woman's condition, a large fellow with rather colorful clothing jumped towards him with a shout.

Ven swatted a hand and tossed aside the offered longsword. The other darted out like a claw.

Ven gripped the man firmly by the face. He intended to toss the man out to sea. However, as Ven made contact, the man's head exploded into a bloody mist that spread around the environment.

Ven blinked a few times in surprise. He raised his hand and grimaced as he wiped his gore-covered face. Dam, well I got my wish I guess... He was far more powerful now than as a man, a bit too much.

I'll have to be careful, I don't want to explode any innocent people.

Ven shrugged, and he returned to the young woman nailed to the railing. His hands gripped the sturdy wood that held her in place.

I don't want you to bleed to death, so I'm afraid the nails need to stay in for now.

Vendak gave the rail a steady tug and broke apart the durable redwood. This left the woman with two large nails through her wrists, each connected to two chunks of broken wood. Ven laid her down, away from the ship's edge so she wouldn't roll off, and turned his attention to the crowd of slavers which had grown around him.

The collective of disheveled, filthy men gathered around Vendak. They huddled in a mass, none brave enough to attack. The twisted body of the first man proved to be an effective deterrent for the rest. Some new arrivals even vomited at the sight of the mangled crewman. Not even the ocean breeze could dampen the smell of blood in the air.

Vendak stood and faced the men. One of the newly arrived crew members shouted some commands to the others. Spurred into action by this higher-ranked individual, the crowd no longer milled about and surged toward Ven. They led with their weapons, and a wall of steel cutlass blades and rusted halberds closed in around him.

Before his rebirth, this would have been a mighty battle to add to the chronicles of his old empire. He would have struggled, and suffered many wounds, before he could bring down so many men unarmed. Now the situation caused a laugh to bubble from his throat. Any tension that spawned from the initial attack faded away.

This new body isn't all about brute force...

Vendak had the speed and processing power to match his physical might. To him, these men and their weapons moved at a snail's pace. He had time to leisurely analyze the faces of each slaver, a wide range of emotions on display.

Fear, anger, and madness all gazed back at him from the eyes of these humans. Ven could only shake his head. To him, this battle was not even a fight, and the small voice of his conscience whispered at him.

There's no glory in a massacre, how many more have to die at my hands?

This tremble of long-suppressed humanity faded, all Ven could muster in his heart was disgust toward the actions of these people. Death had long been his path, it made it easy to slip back into old habits.

Vendak stepped forward and raised his clawed hands. This new body began its work. Each slash, each step a practiced act, forged with decades of slaughter.

Ven shattered the slaver's blades into shards, spinning steel that targeted their allies. The thin talons on his fingers passed through flesh like a scythe. The battle cry that signaled the charge vanished, replaced by an unholy dirge. A last song by the dying men.

Vendak was no stranger to this music. His brother had innovated their most merciless strategies, yet Ven had been the one the people had feared the most.

They loved Callum, both at war and in peace. But me...

Ven plunged both hands into a man's torso. He tossed what remained to either side. His face was emotionless, flattened into a look of apathetic indifference. Callum had always better maintained his popular image and made choices that gained the support of many soldiers.

Ven, however, had talents of his own. Not once had he failed to win on the battlefield, and only the unstopped advance of time slowed him down. He was young again, with a body that put his old self to shame.

Maybe I've lived too long, It's getting harder and harder to care...

Ven's mind slipped to a familiar distant place. What remained in his gaze was alien, a nothingness that prepared to pull these men apart at the seams. Heart buried, Ven swept his hands toward the men around him.

“Whenever you pass judgment, ask yourself, what fault of mine compares to the accused?" Ven quoted from a philosopher of another world. "I might be objectively evil, with sins too long to count, but all of you wear your evil without shame."

At this moment, there was a sudden change in the air around the slaver crew. Their movement slowed as a vast pressure, centered around Vendak, spread out like an invisible storm.

"Maybe one day someone will judge me, as I'm judging you now," Ven intoned. "But that's their choice to make, like this one is mine." His aura expanded, a maw that ate at the fabric of the world.

As this heavy pressure wrapped around them, many intelligent crew members lept into the endless ocean. Better to face the slim odds of survival alone at sea than stay and accept the certainty of death.

Ven gazed around at the men that remained on the upper deck. Faces of terror, as if they looked into the eyes of death. His words were beyond them, but his meaning was clear.

You should have just jumped with your friends.

Over the next half an hour, Vendak proceeded to go on a butcher's tour of the massive ship. He cleared the vessel one room at a time, and slaughtered every slaver who remained aboard. When he'd finished, only blood and meat remained of them. Now he was focused, his hands careful as he freed the last slave amongst those crucified to the hull.

Ven laid the undersized boy down next to the others. He left the injured, his path turned to the doors which led to the lower hold. He'd already visited the inside of the ship to finish off the crew, but now that no danger remained, it was time to free the slaves still caged below.