Kane looked down at his dagger, then up at the tentacle waving about like a shadowy wrecking ball. All he could think right now was, “What the hell am I meant to do here?”
His weapon had no range, and even with his messed-up memory, Kane knew for a fact that he didn’t have a good throwing arm. Not to mention the attack would likely bounce right off, and he’d lose his only means of defense right away.
He squeezed the dagger’s hilt tightly in frustration. He’d been dealt a horrendous hand, and like usual (was this his usual?) he didn’t have any choice but to play it the best he could.
Naturally, he didn’t even have time to continue griping, because the massive tentacle came crashing down from above them. Kane and Esau both dived out of the way in opposite directions while Tal and Lucian stood in place, unfazed.
Lucian reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out a golden pocketwatch, studying it with an intent expression — clearly the wrong thing to when a slab of shadow the size of a bus was about to land on you. Fortunately, Tal raised his hands to the sky, brows furrowed in concentration, and the tentacle seemed to bounce right off the air just above him, right back up into place, where it had been seconds prior.
However, under the soles of Tal’s shoes, cracks spidered out across the deck’s wood from the pressure of the impact — despite the tentacle not actually touching him. What kind of weak-ass wood is this ship made of?, Kane thought, climbing to his feet as the boat rocked side-to-side.
Esau had gotten up before Kane had, and had broken into a dash towards the stern. Once he was a good distance away from the others, he planted his feet squarely, pressed his palms together and squeezed, and when he pulled them back apart, a ball of fire had materialized between them. His triceps then bulged with effort as he pushed the writhing sphere of hungry flame towards the monster with a forceful shove.
The fire erupted from Esau’s hands in a blast of heat that Kane could feel even from across the ship. It hit the kraken’s tentacle with a muted BOOM. Rather than the shadows simply dissipating as Kane had expected, the tentacle seemed to burst in an explosion of…. stone?
He watched the display in muted awe. Esau’s fire wasn’t ordinary: it rolled and coiled like it had a life of its own, and glowed a redder shade of orange than that which Kane could theoretically remember seeing on Earth. In fact, he was so enraptured by the light display that he didn’t notice the danger lurking behind him.
The small tentacle wrapped around his left ankle with an instantaneous vice grip, and Kane swore he heard his bones snap in the process before he felt it. Suddenly, he was swept off his feet, legs above his head, swinging in an arc through the air, promptly slamming into the collection of barrels from earlier and sending them scattering like bowling pins.
Kane’s ribs ached like mad from the impact, but in all honestly, the pain there paled in comparison to the pain he felt in his leg. It was as if every atom in the area was being sheared in half by burning cleavers, as if he’d waded through a pit of cacti only to dip into his ankle in a nest of wasps. Kane could hear himself screaming, he knew full well he was screaming, but he couldn’t even quite feel himself feeling, because his body had to divert all his attention to that pain and that alone.
His muscles acted on command — anything to make the pain stop. He bent down and swung the dagger with all his might, and by some token of providence, it was enough to cut through most of the tentacle still wrapped around him. The appendage slipped off Kane’s leg, dead, turning from a misty, smoky black to cracked slate stone, landing on the deck with a thud.
Kane dared to lift his head up to see that his jeans were bleached gray. He daren’t roll his pant leg up to see the havoc that had likely been wreaked upon his skin.
As his senses returned, he caught sight of Lucian crouching down beside him, outstretching a hand. The man’s face wasn’t the least bit concerned or pitiful, although he did glance twice down at Kane’s leg with mild curiosity.
Reluctantly, Kane took the man’s hand, and Lucian pulled him up. But as soon as he attempted to put pressure onto his leg, pain shot through it once again. It felt as if his ankle would shatter.
Lucian whirled around to face Esau, lifting his hand beside his mouth while he used the other to support Kane. “Can you dim the fire?” he bellowed, voice carrying with ease. “It can travel through shadows!” So that explained why the tentacle had appeared behind him: Esau’s fire had created a shadow behind Kane for the beast to attack him from.
Unfortunately, Esau wasn’t paying any attention, because he was fucking flying, or at least performing some cheap imitation. The man was propelling himself with twin jets of fire from his bare feet, in a series of upwards steps like that of a layup. Kane recalled it was a movement from some sport, but he couldn’t quite recall which one.
Another tentacle came up to meet the airborne man. Lucian lunged to the side towards a loose floorboard.
A ball of flame formed in Esau’s hands above his head, and he slammed downwards, as if performing a dunk. But the tentacle was faster, slamming into Esau’s stomach in a burst of hazy shadow and turning him to stone.
Or at least it would have, if not for the plank of wood Lucian had pitched in their direction with impeccable form and pinpoint accuracy. Another BOOM resounded from the collision of the three forces, and Esau fell back onto the quarterdeck, the charred plank landing on top of him. Slowly, the color grey began to crawl over the plank until it enveloped it entirely, and Kane could see the horror settle into Esau’s eyes as he released that that same fate had nearly befell him.
The man didn’t have the opportunity to regain his bearings, however, because out of nowhere, another tentacle was coming straight for his face.
A figure emerged from the door at the stern that led to the lower deck, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. He swung a overlarge blade downwards in an arc, and immediately the cleanly severed tentacle was flying off into the air with incredible speed. This person had cut through it like butter.
Esau blinked wildly, then looked up at the other man. As he recognized him, his expression settled into a frown.
The Asian man seemed to be the oldest on deck, seemingly in his late-30s with a messy man bun and a stubbly beard. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and a red leather jacket — the combination causing a shiver to run down Kane’s spine — and wielded two monstrously large scimitars, each the size of… well, him.
And he proceeded to swing one scimitar down at Esau.
Esau flinched back, propelling himself an insufficient distance with fire from his feet, raising his hands as if that would protect him against the oversized cleaver. The other man’s face wore a scowl like it was the only natural expression he could manage, and he didn’t follow through with the movement, instead only having swung as a threat.
“Did you open a grave chest without me?” he said, his voice a low growl as he held the scimitar above Esau’s crossed hands.
Esau regained his composure, pushing away and clambering to his feet. “Not the time, Saul.”
But Saul pressed both edges of both scimitars to both the front and back of Esau’s neck, effectively trapping him. The blades glimmered silver even in the absence of strong light. “Did you?”
“Not the time, Saul!” Lucian yelled from his position beside Kane. He turned to face Tal, who seemed to be have been holding off the kraken all on his own while the pair bickered. “Tal, I’ll be right back.” With that, he broke off into a run towards the stern and disappeared through the door Saul had emerged from.
“Just splendid,” Tal muttered, barely audible over the waves and the beast. He lifted his hands again to block another strike, but at the last second, the tentacle shifted from a slam to a sweep with unnatural deftness, sending Tal soaring straight towards the group despite his blocking with a wall of force. But as he flew, his momentum slowed and stopped, as if gravity had been flipped on its side. Before falling back “down” towards the front of the ship, he had just enough time to grab a barrel that Kane hadn’t broken. Then he stepped off the deck so as not to crash into it, and began to “fall” back to the side, pushing the barrel forwards into the tentacle that had hit him. The barrel burst, the tentacle flinched away and slithered back into the water.
Tal got to his feet, his hair ruffled from his aerial maneuver. “Do anyone of you motherfuckers feel like helping anytime today, or is this water cooler chat going to go on indefinitely?”
Kane knew he was outright useless, so he didn’t bother responding. He looked to the other two. Saul had finally withdrawn his scimitars from Esau’s neck; the latter was pressing his fingers up to just below his chin, lips scrunching up as he realized he was bleeding.
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“Who’s that?” Saul asked plainly, pointing a blade’s sharp point in Kane’s direction. As if getting to the bottom of Kane’s identity were the most important issue right now.
Just then, supposedly tired of getting its tentacles thrashed by mere mortals and tired of their choosing to completely ignore it at times, the kraken finally decided to rear its ugly head — literally. It burst out of the bloodwater, and it was mostly what Kane had expected, but still so much worse.
It was the head of a squid-octopus-cephalopod whatever, but instead of two eyes, there were hundreds. Every surface of its head was covered in fist-sized bloodshot blue eyes that darted about frantically as if in the midst of a panic attack or a meth high. A round, massive maw with thousands of black, dagger-like teeth opened up, and another unholy roar emerged, no longer muffled by the depths of the bloodwater sea.
All four men on deck went dead-still and dead-silent at the sight. Then, Tal turned back to the group.
“You get my half of the grave’s loot if you kill this thing,” Tal called to Saul.
“Done fucking deal.” Saul sprinted right past Kane, as if the man were a dull object forgotten due to the discovery of a shinier one. His swords swung with his arms like ancient silvery fans, and he jumped towards Tal. Tal gave the man a leg-up, boosting— no, volleying — him up with his power, and the older man went flying.
Right towards the beast’s maw.
Right into it.
The beast’s mouth snapped shut, and that was that.
Kane couldn’t believe his eyes. Sure, he’d seen a lot of shit in the past couple of minutes, but seemingly watching a man get eaten alive seemed to take the cake. He simply hadn’t seen it coming.
But neither of the others seemed remotely concerned. Esau stalked over to Kane and grabbed his arm. “Sit,” he commanded.
“Huh?” But Esau’s grip was strong, so Kane could do nothing but comply, sitting down onto the deck as Esau knelt down. Tal backed up towards them, his eyes fixed on the kraken as it chewed on its meal.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any cash on you, would you? Or, like, anything valuable?” Esau gingerly rolled up Kane’s pant leg, and to the latter’s surprise, pain didn’t shoot up it this time. A simple glance down explained why.
His lower leg was completely petrified. Kane couldn’t feel a thing.
“Uh…” Kane tried to ignore the sight and played along, checking his pockets and finding an old-looking brown leather wallet. He peeked inside but came up empty, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “No cards in here, either.”
“Broke-ass,” Esau spat. “Tal, get me the grave chest.”
Tal turned to the side and yanked the knocked-over chest towards them, which had miraculously remained on board this entire time. Or perhaps, Tal had made certain of it with an additional forcefield — he seemed the type to look out for things like that. Either way, Esau rolled his shoulders and yanked the lid up, reaching into the chest and pulling out an overflowing handful of coins.
“You’d better be fucking useful,” Esau muttered as he gripped Kane’s ankle with his other hand. The man inhaled deeply, and then breathed out very slowly. As he did, his palms began to glow red-orange, as if he’d pressed them up to a bright light, and Kane watched as the pile of coins was enveloped by a small but intense conflagration.
And then Kane looked back down at his leg. The gray seemed to fade away, and stone turned back into skin and flesh, sensation returning shortly afterward. Kane couldn’t remember having ever felt anything as pleasantly, refreshingly warm as Esau’s palm was on his skin right now.
“That should do,” Esau said, all too quickly. He got to his feet and pulled Kane up forcefully. “You’re welcome.”
“Technically, his injury was your fault,” Tal interjected sharply. He hadn’t turned away from the beast, holding up a forcefield against its drumming tentacles. It seemed to be done with its meal.
Esau whirled on him immediately. “What am I meant to do, just not fight the fucking death octopus?”
“You can’t dim your fire?” Tal accused, despite straining with effort. “Do you have no control over your power?”
The kraken ceased its drumming abruptly.
“It’s fucking fire, Tal. You can’t just dim fire. What the hell do you want me to do?”
Several of the beast’s eyes began to flutter rapidly, and its head began to sway.
Tal dropped his hands and jabbed an accusatory finger towards Esau. “Do anything that doesn’t lead to us all getting killed! It’s not hard, just use your damn brain!”
The beast groaned, more weakly than any of its previous, ear-splitting roars.
Kane stood up, amazed at how the pain was gone, at how his leg was functional again. But still, his eyes were glued on the beast, who seemed to be fighting an internal battle of sorts. “Hey, guys?”
Esau whirled on Kane, clenching his fists so hard they glowed. “Don’t you see we’re in the middle of some—” And then he noticed what Kane had noticed. “Tal?”
“Yeah, I see it,” Tal said, eyes returning to the beast. “Kane, bring the chest.”
Kane? The man blinked. Did he just refer to me by my name?
With no further explanation, Tal and Esau sprinted towards the edge of the ship as the beast’s stomach roiled and quivered, as if something was beating against it.
Kane, stunned but knowing it wasn’t wise to question nor argue, picked up the surprisingly-light chest and ran over to them. The warm feeling in his own chest that came from actually being acknowledged may or may not have compelled him to pick up the pace.
Right as he arrived, the kraken’s chest burst open with a ferocious, massive cut, slimy black blood pouring about everywhere accompanies with a flood of black fog. Saul fell out of the exit door he’d created with his swords, doused in the oily mixture. Tal outstretched his hands, and the man slid down an invisible ramp, right onto the deck rather than toppling into the sea.
The trio backed up from the pool of blood that surrounded the man. Kane wasn’t sure if he was seeing correctly, but it looked as if Saul was grinning, his white teeth the only remaining space of contrast on his whole ink-black body.
However, gray splotches began to appear on his skin and clothing and then began to spread, slowly petrifying the man. Kane swung the chest open, and Esau plunged his hand in, not even bothering to pull anything out, all while placing his other hand on Saul’s chest.
Again, Esau’s hand began to glow, but the petrification only seemed to slow rather than reverse. Tal’s eyes widened, and he stared at Saul, as if telepathically urging him to do whatever he was doing but better.
But Saul’s legs and arms were already turned to stone, his hands curled tight around the hilts of his scimitars in a death grip á la rigor mortis. And despite it all, the man wore a smile on his face as if he were ready to go out like this, the expression near beatific, but in an axe-murderer sort of way. There was absolutely pain behind it, however — it looked like the man’s teeth might crack.
Esau huffed out his nose. “I really don’t like you, but… I suppose we can manage without the nesting dolls.”
His hand glowed slightly brighter, but still, all he was doing was keeping the petrification at bay. Saul’s smile began to fade.
Kane was watching the scene play out, dagger clenched tightly in hand, eyes glued to Saul’s stone body. His stomach roiled about at the sight, and as if the kraken knew they were all distracted, a tentacle crept up in Esau’s shadow.
It was only Kane who had noticed - perhaps some form of pattern recognition. Kane would later beat himself up for not thinking twice, but regardless, he lunged forwards and slashed at the tentacle just as it lurched at the back of Esau’s head.
Despite the resistance, he managed to lop it off just in time, the stray end of the tentacle flying just over Esau’s head and onto the deck beyond them.
Esau turned around, eyes wide, his hand dimming as he lost concentration for a second, but Kane simply offered him a terse nod. At the moment, he was operating off the logic of If they die, I die.
“If you’re not going to use the rings, at least use the gemstones, Esau,” Tal urged, deflecting the kraken’s weak tentacle slap with moderate ease.
“But I—”
“Now!”
Esau sighed, and then his hands began to glow much brighter, the light from inside of the chest doubling in intensity and washing over them. The petrification was blown the hell away, and Saul was restored near-instantly.
The man blew out an exhale, his eyes still closed. “Did you just save my life, Esau?” he said with simultaneous great difficulty and sly ease, his grin cheeky.
But Esau’s face was already buried in the chest as he peered inside. “No,” his voice came, muffled. “Maybe. Either way, we’re even now.”
He pulled his face out, looking considerably distraught. “OK, this should still be fine. We didn’t use too much. We’ll live, we’ll live.”
Kane looked up at the kraken, which seemed to be bleeding out, flailing about helplessly. Its roars grew weaker and weaker — Saul had apparently wreaked havoc on its insides. But Kane wouldn’t let his guard down just yet. Not when—
A tentacle speared up from below, right through the boards of the deck, right between the four of them, straight up into the sky. Then another shot up behind Esau, and then another nearly clipped Kane’s arm.
In the space of a breath, they were surrounded by a cage of tentacles. Saul, still stiff, reached for his swords, but the tentacles had already swept them away. Tal’s eyes went wide as he stumbled back, unable to create a shield that would protect all four of them. Esau clutched the grave chest to his torso, as if he was only willing to go out if it was by his side.
And Kane simply let his dagger dangle in his grasp as he looked up in frustration — no fucking way he died like this, this was hardly fair at all — the dozen tentacles all arcing in the air and coming crashing down from all directions.
Footsteps, light and fast.
A chant in a foreign tongue.
And then a wave of heat and blinding light. Kane could see absolutely nothing. The other men cried out as they were robbed of their vision, too.
The beast let out what could only be described as a eldritch scream.
A couple of seconds later, Kane’s vision began to clear, just in time to see the beast’s skin sloughing off its face. Every single one of its eyes popped in sequence like bubble wrap, and the cage of tentacles that surrounded the group melted into pools of harmless shadow.
Lucian stood behind them, his right hand gloved and holding up a golden amulet, while he cradled an opened tome in his left. Kane couldn’t make heads or tails of the words coming out of the captain’s mouth as he continued to speak — all he knew was that he didn’t want the guy to stop.
The kraken let out one last wail before crashing back into the sea.
It took a couple of seconds for everyone to collect themselves. Bewildered, they looked up at Lucian, who had so gallantly saved their lives.
The man somehow seemingly stood taller than them all, snapping the book shut and wrapping the amulet around his gloved hand.
“There are holes in the deck,” Lucian stated, wasting no time. Once again, he truly sounded like a captain, addressing his crew. “Tal, block the holes for now. The rest of you will patch it up before we sink. Is that understood?”
The other three men let out an unenthusiastic, muddled chorus of “hms” and “OKs.” Kane simply looked around at the mess of repairs that needed to be done, looked back at the haphazard group, and then racked his brain trying to understand how the hell they’d survived all that. Kane simply nodded once.
“Perfect. Let’s get it done, boys,” he said as they began to disperse. “And, Kane?”
Kane’s head snapped up immediately at the sound of his name.
“You did good. Welcome to the crew.”