Each person here was prepared for death — except Jon, whose mind was working on overdrive to feasibly increase their kill-death ratio to the point that at least half of them would survive.
He turned to Jiraya. “Favor,” he said.
It was probably death-related, the assassin mused. “What is it?”
“The theater in the city. Find Alyssa Rainsworth, in case.”
‘In case I die.’ It wasn’t hard to discern his intentions. Jiraya nodded. “Alright.”
Jon didn’t plan on dying, however. In fact, he had a much different plan. He started running to the fore of the ship, which was butted up against the wharf. Passing the ramp there, a trio of mercenaries appeared, but he shot one and killed the other two with the chain-and-dagger.
He drew a pistol and, hiding behind a thick post at the foot of the ramp, ascertained that no other enemies poked their heads in.
He pointed at a nearby cannon. “Get that loaded.”
Jiraya was surprised. How did he know that they had gunnery experience? He had no doubt now that this man was an agent of Ravena. He moved like one. They were much too scary to fight — that one time was enough to scar his entire being and career.
He faced his men. “Do it.”
One picked up a charge of flare-sand; it was a cute little thing, a cylindrical gift package wrapped in brown paper. It was about the size of a decent log that one would find in the wilderness and chop up for firewood.
Another assassin brought another cylinder wrapped in red paper. That one went in first, and then the charge.
Meanwhile, Jon kept watch over the ramp opening, Jiraya joining him with a rifle he’d scavenged from the dead crew.
While they held their angles, Jon couldn’t help but admire the Ten Blades’ skill set — well, just Four of them, now. He pondered on what sort of work they used to do, but whatever they did, he felt immensely lucky to have met them here.
If he could get even just one of them out of here alive, that would be his best way of thanking them, and if he’d ever met “Her Highness,” he’d be sure to thank her, too.
Once the cannon was loaded, one of the assassins carefully opened the gun port. Jon sent a glance Jiraya’s way, and the catkin nodded in affirmative.
Jon moved to the gun port, checking the things outside and if they had a clear shot of the pier. As expected, the mercs were already sending entire platoons to retake the ship.
He pulled his head back and looked at the assassins. “Hit the base of the pier.”
“Cutting off reinforcements?” the assassin at the targeting mechanism asked. Her hands were already on the hand cranks. Jon nodded, and the assassins turned into a proper gunnery crew for just a moment.
“On-target!”
“Breech locked!”
“Fire!”
Jon had covered his ears, but the thump of the cannon still shook him to the core. He couldn’t imagine what the mercs outside would’ve heard, exposed to the intense percussion of a cannon’s gunfire at practically point-blank range for artillery.
The explosive shell hit the section of pier that connected with the wharf. The fiery blast propelled a column of water and wooden splinters to a height taller than the ship’s mast. Anyone caught in the immediate blast was vaporized, and anyone outside of it died from ruptured lungs. Even those catkin who were standing 45 degrees to the cannon’s line of fire sustained ruptured eardrums at best, or straight up died from the pressure wave at worst.
Gunfire from the surviving mercs on the pier and the crew on the opposite ship suppressed the assassins. They closed the gun port, keeping bullets from coming inside.
There were boots running around on the top deck. Although they’d cut off the enemy’s reinforcements, there were still a few platoons who’d made their way on-board. Jiraya looked at Jon. “We’ll need to take care of that.”
Jon nodded, but then turned towards the impromptu gunnery crew. “We need all the guns loaded,” Jon said.
The assassins froze and stared at him. There were forty cannons here. The opposing ship had a huge complement of gunners with them. If Jon wanted an artillery duel, they’d entirely lose.
Jiraya, however, saw the good in Jon’s words. “Aim for the moorings, you idiots!”
Well, why didn’t you say so! The assassins were impressed; this was a truly awesome way to deal a parting blow against their enemies. If the enemy ship were freed from its moorings without ample preparation, the wind and weather would toy with it.
It wouldn’t outright destroy the ship, certainly, but cutting off a re-attachable arm was still a tactically advantageous choice. At the very least, they would cease to have 80 cannons pointed at them at all times.
“Yes, my lord!” they replied. Jiraya smiled gently for them. He was honored to have them.
The assassins got to work reloading as many cannons as they could; they only had the element of surprise on their side, and it was all they could do to shoot off a single volley. That volley had to decimate the enemy ship and take it off from its moorings, or else they'd get drawn into an artillery duel — one they were sure to lose.
Meanwhile, Jon and Jiraya went topside to buy as much time as they could for their accomplices.
Jiraya ran up the ramp with the rifle. “Get back!” Jon shouted. The deft catkin stomped down, killed his momentum, and reversed it. In his place, bullets rained down from the mercs and sailors positioned around the top deck’s opening.
Jon sent up a stun grenade — of course he’d carry a few — swinging it up with the chain to extend his reach. Once he heard the blast, he rushed up the ramp with a pistol in each hand, and a chain wrapped around his right arm. He shot two mercs in quick succession, while whipping several sailors with the chain. It wasn’t enough to kill them, but it did break a few bones and aggravate their disorientation.
Jiraya rushed up beside him, taking aim at a sailor who had foolishly rushed up to help his comrades, exposing himself on the open deck. An aimed shot sent the sailor jerking backwards, falling on the deck.
That was the last easy kill. Reinforcements rushed up the gangplanks onto the top deck: entire squads of mercenary riflemen lined up in ranks, protected by shield bearers. Jon was only able to get a shot off, hitting one in the head, before they fired in unison.
As their comrade fell, a rank’s worth of massed fire burst forth in revenge. Their bullets ripped up the deck in front and around Jon and Jiraya’s position. They were fortunate to be able to duck down and keep their heads below the deckline.
Jon tossed out another stun grenade. It exploded in the midst of the riflemen. It wasn’t something so powerful as to be able to kill everyone within a thirty meter radius, but it sure as hell broke up their formation, sending them scattering, hiding behind the deck’s cannons and licking their burn wounds.
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Jiraya peeked out, spotting several enemy squads heading for the opposite ramp instead. Jon saw it, too.
“I’ll keep them here! Go help my brothers!” Jiraya said.
Jon gave him the last of his three stun grenades and disappeared back into the middle deck. He hurried to come to the aid of the assassins breaking their backs to reload 40 cannons, and already, he could hear and see flashes of gunfire coming from the end of the deck. A bang from a stun grenade knocked from above.
Considering the number of mercs he’d seen coming down the ramp, he considered any possible reason why they weren’t firing more often.
Jon arrived at the midpoint of the deck, joining the assassins. He counted them; there were still three. Two of them were clutching rifles, looted from the surroundings, while the third was busy reloading a cannon all by his lonesome.
Jon picked a post to hide behind. He raised a pistol. He fired, hitting someone — didn’t know who. There were just too many mercs for him to miss.
Well, that was his last one. At least that convinced the mercs to slow their crawl. They were firing a lot slower.
He casually took a peek, made eye contact with one of their sharpshooters, then hid behind the post again. A bullet promptly exploded the face of it, but the post was too thick to be blown away just with that.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Jon asked one of the assassins, who was hiding behind a post across from his own. The assassin shrugged.
On the other side of the battle, the Kittari mercenaries shooting at them knew very little about the tools of the seafaring trade. They were convinced that a stray shot would possibly set off a flare-sand charge and cause a chain reaction, blowing up the entire ship — and them along with it.
If such a thing were possible, they wouldn’t even be used in the first place. The reason why cannon charges were so chunky was because they were diluted compared to small arms cartridges, and this dilution made them very difficult to set off. Shooting them wouldn’t set them off. Hell, even catching them in an explosion wouldn’t set them off.
On a ship filled with dumb, bored sailors, going to such extremes for safety was a must. The only surefire way to set them off was with a special primer, which was stuck into the charge at the very last moment, right before sealing the cannon’s breech.
It’s not that the mercenaries were dumb. They really just didn’t know, and they weren’t willing to gamble with their lives more than they already had to for their job just to find out.
There was another bang on the top deck. Jiraya only had one stun grenade left. If they didn’t turn this situation around soon, they’d be dead in a minute.
“Finally!” The assassin who had been toiling over reloading the nearby cannon heaved a great sigh, slumping against the hull of the ship. He made eye contact with another assassin, and they both started laughing amidst the occasional bullet landing around them.
Jon narrowed his eyes at the cannon. He had a stupid idea...and no other options. “Turn that cannon,” he said, pointing at it. The assassins all stared at him, and he replied with a finger gun — aimed towards the mercenaries.
Fucking crazy, the assassins all thought, but damn it, he’s right.
There was a special gantry system that rode on rails up and down the aisles, meant to service the cannons. The assassin who had spent the whole of this time reloading was given reprieve — handed a rifle and told to force the mercenaries’ heads down with it — while Jon and another went back to retrieve the gantry from the back third of the ship.
They rushed under fire, floundering for a moment as they couldn’t find the gantry, though they finally found it hidden under a mess of ropework and someone’s personal effects; there were hammocks strung from one of the legs of the gantry, and there were images of women nailed to the other leg.
They cut off the hammocks and pushed the gantry along, the chains and pulleys clanking together as they did, like some kind of dull wind chime.
The crane was finally over the cannon, but the mercenaries had advanced while they were gone — too close for comfort.
Having run out of ammunition, Jon used the magic chain to pick up a nearby harpoon and throw it forwards with great speed, using the chain like an overpowered javelin amentum. It shot through the air, more like an anti-tank kinetic penetrator than a simple thrown spear, pinning one merc against another.
In this darkness, their comrades around them didn’t even know what had hit them, but the vague hint of a shadow that passed by them was enough to tell them that the other side had a power that far surpassed what should be human.
In truth, it didn’t actually take a lot of power to blow through several people.
With the mercs retreating out of fear, Jon and the assassins gained the breathing room to raise the cannon, swing it around until it was pointing to the aft, then put it back down.
Honestly, now that they got to this point, the assassins were a little hesitant about pushing through with this idea. Certainly, they truly felt that they had no choice, and the momentum of the battle was pushing them to follow through with this plan, but this was also going to be the first — and possibly last — time that they’d witness this kind of gutsy maneuver.
Well, they were at least thankful that they weren’t on the receiving end of it.
A second wave of mercenaries rushed down the ramp, passing their comrades, who they saw were nervous beyond all measure. What had gotten them so worked up?
They took forward positions, firing a few times in the general direction of the escaped slaves. One of their bullets actually managed to nail one of the assassins, who was in charge of firing the cannon. Being unarmored and weak, he fell dead.
Their sergeant followed them down, and seeing the state of the first wave, barked verbal abuse at them before finally giving the order.
“There’s just a few of them, now! Charge!”
Jon took over the dead assassin’s place. The other assassin, who was in charge of aiming the cannon, eyed him with a look that said, do you even know what you’re doing?
Jon replied by putting magic in the wire that led up to a small hole in the breech of the cannon. He’d closely observed how the assassins operated the cannon a while ago, memorizing the entire procedure in one look; before being a killer, he was a spy, and he wouldn’t be one if he couldn’t at least eidetically memorize the smallest, seemingly irrelevant details.
The wire conducted his magic into a needle-like primer in the rear of the flare-sand charge — and the whole reaction took its course.
A blast of deadly grapefire engulfed everything in front of it, and with the cannon tilted slightly up, even a part of the top deck felt the heat ripping through its flooring until it broke and shattered, the fire and explosion swallowing the mercenaries grouped around the far ramp’s opening above.
(+18 Kills)
From afar, it was like a tiny, fire-filled sneeze from the aft of the ship.
Grapefire wasn’t just exploding grapeshot. It was a terrifying airburst weapon, as each ball exploded in mid-air, showering the surroundings with needles and shrapnel, and they exploded at some random distance between the cannon and the target.
It wasn’t just a “kill everything in this direction” weapon, but more of a “if you so much as happen to be looking at the line of fire, you’ll at least lose an eye” weapon.
In modern terms, this was just Dragon’s Breath: Artillery Edition.
The grapefire surged. Dozens of men moaned in pain and screamed as hundreds of hot, invisible shards laid embedded under their skin.
Seeing this, the other ship’s captain considered his options carefully. He was an officer of a private squadron, given command of these two ships for this contract. He was just supposed to ferry these mercenaries and their cargo here, but at the moment, he was watching the cargo ship get torn apart from the inside, and the eastern mercenaries were being oddly useless at retaking the ship.
Of course, that likely meant that whoever was doing damage in there was good enough to fend off these mercenaries. None of his own men would be able to stand up to such a group in that case — but, he still had options.
If they were dealing with such a dangerous group, then a little bit of collateral damage should be fine, shouldn’t it?
“To the swivel guns!” he shouted from the quarterdeck. “If that don’t work, use the light guns!”
Gunners and their buddies rushed to their posts, feeling lucky they weren’t on the other ship, and overall eager to keep the fierce enemy well-the-fuck-away from themselves.
***
Name: Jon Fuze
Level: 7 → 8
Kills: 116 → 143
Kills to Next Level: 11 / 35 → 3 / 40
Skill Proofs: 4 → 5
| Skill Claims |
> Hastened Sight (Unlocks Lvl. 10)
> Aerial Lockbox (Unlocks Lvl. 15)
> Force (Unlocks Lvl. 10)
| Skills |
> Summon Scribetool (Tier 1)
> Perfect Motion (Tier 1)
***