The ship jumped violently once more, the storm's fury unrelenting. Apollo's grip on the rope tightened as the wind howled around him, whipping his hair across his face. His muscles were screaming from the effort, but there was no time to rest. The sea was an unforgiving force, always demanding more.

A sudden shift in the deck sent a shudder through the ship, a tilt more violent than before. Time seemed to stretch as the world tilted and a man-one of the soldiers, a burly figure with broad shoulders-lost his footing.

Apollo's eyes caught the moment as if in slow motion. The man's arms flailed wildly, desperately reaching for anything to anchor himself, but his hands grasped at nothing but air. His body teetered at the edge of the deck for a heart-stopping second, suspended between life and the yawning abyss below.

"No!" Apollo's voice was swallowed by the wind.

The man's face twisted in terror, his eyes wide and pleading, as if he knew what was coming but couldn't stop it. And then, he slipped. His body tipped over the edge, falling into the black, churning waters below. His scream-brief, ragged-was lost almost as soon as it escaped his lips, swallowed by the crashing waves.

For a moment, Apollo stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. The man was gone, just like that, as if the sea had claimed him in a single, cruel instant. The reality of it hit Apollo like a punch to the gut. This wasn't supposed to happen. He knew that man, he spoke of dying with purpose, of fighting the abominations even after his debt was paid, to fight for his homeland he couldn't die now, not like... this.

"Man overboard!" someone finally shouted, but it sounded distant, almost unreal. The storm raged on, indifferent to their loss, the wind shrieking louder, the waves crashing higher.

Panic clawed at Apollo's throat. He looked to the side, eyes locking with Cronin's for a brief second. The same fear was etched across his friend's face, but they both knew no one else was moving. No one else was going after him.

The sea would take him. Unless-

"I'm going in," Apollo said, his voice low, barely audible over the chaos. His heart was hammering in his chest, fear gripping every muscle in his body, but there was no other choice. He couldn't just let the man drown.

Cronin's eyes widened. "Apollo, you'll die if you-"

But Apollo wasn't listening. His hands were already moving, shaking as he fumbled with a rope. His mind screamed at him to stop, to think this through, but instinct pushed him forward. He tied the rope around his waist with trembling fingers, yanking it tight, the fibers biting into his skin. Then, without hesitation, he shoved the other end of the rope into Cronin's hands.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Hold on," Apollo said, locking eyes with Cronin. "No matter what.

"Are you insane?" Cronin shouted, the panic clear in his voice. He gripped the rope tightly, his knuckles white. "Apollo, you'll-"

"Cronin." Apollo interrupted, his voice raw with fear and determination. "Just... don't let go."

The wind screamed in his ears, the ship groaned beneath his feet, and the dark water churned violently below. Every instinct told him to stay on the deck, to stay where it was safe-or safer, at least. But the image of the man's desperate eyes, his fall into the abyss, was burned into Apollo's mind.

He didn't give himself time to think. With a deep breath, Apollo braced himself, his heart thundering in his chest. And then, before he could lose his nerve, he leaped.

The fall felt endless, the wind rushing past him, until the sea finally met him with a brutal, icy embrace. The cold was instant and overwhelming, like a thousand needles piercing his skin all at once. Apollo gasped, his lungs seizing up from the shock, and for a moment, he was certain the sea had him. The rope around his waist tugged sharply, the only thing tethering him to life.

He fought to keep his head above the surface, waves crashing over him, pushing him down again and again. His limbs flailed, the salt water burning his throat and eyes as he struggled to stay afloat. Every second felt like an eternity, the storm pressing down on him from all sides. But through the chaos, he searched-desperately-for any sign of the man.

Then, beneath the waves, Apollo saw it. A hand, barely visible, reaching weakly toward the surface before disappearing again into the dark. The man was sinking.

Apollo kicked hard, forcing his exhausted body to move, pushing against the pull of the current. His arms reached into the water, grabbing blindly until-he felt it. The man's arm. He was heavy, barely conscious, his body dead weight in the water, but Apollo held on with everything he had. He couldn't let him go.

With a surge of strength he didn't know he had, Apollo pulled the man toward him, wrapping an arm around his chest, holding his head above the water. His muscles screamed, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. The storm raged, waves crashing into them, but Apollo focused only on the rope pulling them back toward the ship.

His lungs burned, his vision blurred, but finally, after what felt like a lifetime, rough hands grabbed him and the man, hauling them both up out of the water and onto the deck.

Apollo collapsed, gasping for breath, his body shaking uncontrollably. His vision spun, but through the blur, he saw Cronin kneeling beside him, his face pale and stricken.

"You... you crazy bastard," Cronin said, his voice hoarse, barely audible over the storm. "for someone so smart you make some dumbass decisions."

Apollo chuckled the man lay beside them, coughing weakly, but alive. Alive. Apollo's chest heaved as he looked up at the sky, rain still pelting down. His body was numb with exhaustion, every muscle aching, but a wave of relief washed over him, greater than any fear he had felt.