Çentic Ubaize
"YOU MUST LEAD the attack on the Northern fortress," my uncle had hissed that day. "We have a spy who will signal the start of the offensive."
As I drifted across this boundless sea of blue, my mind kept returning to those hushed words spoken in that opulent, stifling room. The notion of me spearheading an invasion of Elaecia was the epitome of heroic fantasy.
A lifelong desire to prove my worth as a Çentic had always drawn me to the battlefield. I had spent years serving on the southern border. After my father's passing and my mother's remarriage, I had made the solitary decision to join the fight at the tender age of sixteen.
People often reminded me of my father's humble origins. I was not pure-blooded nobility. The Çentics, an ancient family, prided themselves on their superiority. Their motto, "Ex Sanguine Purissimo, Virtus Excelsa" (From Purest Blood, Highest Virtue), made it clear that they scorned the blood of merchants in their lineage.
Why my enigmatic, noble mother chose to marry my father, a mere merchant, remains a mystery to me. Yet, here I am, a product of that unexpected union.
I believed that through hard work, I could earn the true title of a Çentic. I had dreamed of becoming a Marshall. However, the battlefield proved to be a far harsher environment than my scornful family. Death was a common occurrence.
I recalled my Commander’s words, "The brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all." Inspired by this, I endured every hardship with courage.
When Ashia's letter arrived, announcing her engagement to a prominent noble family, a profound sense of loneliness washed over me. She was the woman I had dreamed of spending my life with. It felt as if a part of me had died that day.
I knew I would never be considered a pure-blooded noble, but I had hoped Ashia saw beyond my lineage. However, the news of her engagement shattered that hope. The news wasn't conveyed through our personal letters but rather through a formal invitation from her family. We had been estranged for a month at that point.
On the day of her engagement, the harsh reality of her feelings became clear. When I asked her directly, she replied, "I cannot defy my father's wishes. As a Mishier, I have a duty to my family." It was a typical response, devoid of any personal sentiment. She didn't even try to resist.
That same night, my uncle summoned me to the port of Qatr for a clandestine mission. I was more than eager to escape the confines of the capital.
Now, here I stand. No longer a powerless merchant, no longer a nobody. I have become something I've always yearned for: a noble, a man of power. My uncle has given me the opportunity to achieve greatness.
But this plan is pure madness. Allying with pirates to attack Elaecia from behind? Capturing the Northern garrison, their primary northern defense? It's a terrifying proposition.
"Keep your feet planted on the deck, you landlubber. Those waters are teeming with sharks, and they have a taste for tender young flesh." It was Ring-beard, of course, enjoying the opportunity to torment me. Instead of engaging with him, I turned my gaze towards the sky, where the morning sun was beginning to illuminate the sea with its golden rays. This pirate life was a far cry from my previous existence.
"You look like you've soiled yourself, greenhorn," Cossa sneered, a cruel grin spreading across his face. "Your uncle's a real mastermind, sending his own nephew to gamble his life away. Do you really think the Sultan will honor you if you manage to pull this off? And how much?"
"You pirates think you're the masters of the sea, but in reality, you're nothing more than waterlogged mercenaries, willing to sell your souls for a pittance," I scoffed, my gaze fixed on the endless expanse of the northern sea. "Honor? A foreign concept to you, I'd wager."
"Honor is a made-up notion, a tool the nobility use to justify their bloodshed," he countered. "As for us, killing is a necessity for survival."
"A very short-sighted perspective, as expected from a waterborne thief like you," I retorted harshly. During my time here, he had constantly pushed me to my limits. Every conversation we had was filled with his criticisms of me and the nobility as a whole. And I had responded in kind, using the same harsh language. After all, being on the battlefield had ingrained this style of communication in me. Perhaps he was testing me, or perhaps he simply harbored a deep-seated dislike for nobles.
"Regardless, boy, we'll dock at our base tomorrow. Conditions will worsen as we travel north with winter approaching. Be prepared for anything. I don't need a dead aristocrat on my ship." With that, he vanished inside.
My gaze returned to the endless expanse of blue. The frigid wind howled across the deck, piercing through our layers of clothing. The sea, a furious, churning mass of indigo, stretched out before us, its surface roiling with unseen power. The sky, a bleak canvas of gray, mirrored the desolate beauty of the northern ocean. The only sound was the relentless lapping of waves against the hull and the creaking of the ship's timbers.
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I had been sailing with a pirate crew for a week, our course set for their infamous stronghold, Devil's Paradise. This island, north of the Peninsula, housed the other nineteen ships and my uncle's army of thousands. Baldassarre Cossa, though irritating, was undeniably a skilled navigator of the sea.
"The weather is quite pleasant today, isn't it, young master? But such conditions are rare. Perhaps the gods favor our endeavor," Gark, now standing beside me, remarked, his demeanor a stark contrast to the rough behavior of the other pirates. Clearly, his position as my uncle's personal attendant had softened his nature. "I've had little occasion to travel by sea, but I've heard tales of monstrous creatures lurking in these waters. Let us hope the gods protect us from such horrors."
"Ah, yes, the leviathans of the deep. My father used to tell me stories about sea serpents. Massive creatures, capable of swallowing ships whole. Some say they are the guardians of ancient treasures, others claim they are the harbingers of doom." I said with a deep, dramatic voice.
Tired of the endless sea, I retreated to my quarters, Gark trailing behind me. Sea monsters are mere children's tales. As a merchant, my father had extensive experience on the ocean. I had been fascinated by his stories about the creatures that reside beneath the waves. Unlike dragons, they weren't particularly rare. However, they prefer warmer waters, so encountering a large monster in these northern waters is unlikely. While there may be creatures lurking beneath the surface, they are of little concern at the moment.
"What do you know about this Devil’s Paradise, Gark?" I asked bluntly.
He scrutinized me for a moment before replying, "A den of thieves and murderers masquerading as pirates. Legend has it the island is blessed with eternal warmth, defying its northern location. But I’ve never set foot there to confirm the tale."
"So we might witness a divine miracle," I replied with a smirk. I'm skeptical about these fairy tales. Perhaps the region simply has a higher concentration of chakra, accounting for the warmer climate. I'll judge for myself when the time comes.
"You..." Gark began, but his words were cut short by the ship's sudden lurch. A typhoon, out of nowhere? I rushed to the deck, finding the crew in disarray. Cossa was barking orders. The ship lurched violently, nearly knocking me off my feet. I stumbled, grasping onto a splintered wooden pillar, the rough texture digging into my raw palms.
"It's a bloody kraken, boss! It's small but still enough to topple our ship," a pirate yelled to Cossa. A kraken? No way a monstrous creature could attack us in the northern sea. It was impossible, I thought.
The ship groaned and creaked beneath me, its timbers straining as if they were about to give way. I could feel the ship shudder with each wave, and I braced myself against the railing, my knuckles white. The wind howled like a banshee, whipping across the deck and sending icy shivers down our spines.
For a moment, an eerie silence fell over the sea. The only sound was the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull, a stark contrast to the chaos that had preceded it. Then, the silence was shattered by a deafening roar, a roar unlike anything I had ever heard before.
The crew, their faces contorted in fear, clawed at the deck as the ship tilted dangerously. I could hear their panicked shouts, a cacophony of fear and desperation. I gripped the railing tighter, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Don't panic! It's just a pup, we can scare it off. Load the cannons! Prepare the mana barrier!" Cossa, a figure of steely resolve amidst the chaos, barked orders.
The shimmering mana barrier, our last line of defense, flickered and wavered under the relentless assault. Covering the entire deck, it absorbed the brunt of the creature's force, its edges rippling and distorting.
As the kraken emerged from the depths, its massive body crashed against the hull, sending tremors through the ship. Its thick, serpentine tentacles, as thick as tree trunks, lashed out, slamming against the ship with bone-jarring force.
Each impact shuddered through the vessel, threatening to crack its timbers and send it to a watery grave. A shiver of awe ran down my spine as I gazed upon the creature, its ancient eyes boring into mine. The sheer scale of the beast was overwhelming, a stark reminder of the ocean's power and the insignificance of human life.
Its serpentine tentacles, as thick as tree trunks, writhed and coiled, their suction cups glinting in the dim light. Its eyes, ancient and knowing, seemed to pierce my soul. My breath caught in my throat as I struggled to comprehend the enormity of what I was witnessing. The only thing standing between us and this oceanic demon was a flickering mana barrier.
With serpentine grace, the kraken wrapped its tentacles around the ship, attempting to squeeze the life out of it. The immense pressure creaked the ship's frame, groaning under the strain. It felt as if the vessel were caught in the grip of a giant python, slowly being suffocated. One massive tentacle, laden with suckers, fell directly onto the poop deck, attempting to crush it under its immense weight. The deck groaned and buckled under the force, splintering wood and sending sailors scrambling for their lives. The kraken's ultimate goal seemed to be to drag the ship beneath the waves. Its powerful tentacles pulled at the hull, attempting to capsize it or pull it down into the depths. The ship listed precariously, seawater sloshing over the deck as the crew fought to maintain their balance.
The crew, their faces contorted in fear, clawed at the deck as the ship tilted. I could hear their panicked shouts, a cacophony of fear and desperation. I gripped the railing tighter, my heart pounding in my chest.
Gark's lips trembled as he glanced nervously at the monstrous creature. His eyes, wide with fear, darted between the kraken and the captain, seeking reassurance that was nowhere to be found. His grip tightened on the railing, his knuckles white.
With a deafening roar, the cannons unleashed a barrage of explosive fury, their impact echoing across the turbulent sea. The kraken, enraged and wounded, recoiled, its grip loosening. The mana barrier flickered, absorbing the brunt of the creature's final, desperate attack before fading as the leviathan retreated into the depths.
The salty sea air stung my nostrils, a sharp contrast to the pungent odor of the ship's bilge that wafted up from below deck. The icy sea spray lashed at my face, numbing my skin. My hands, raw and chapped from gripping the rough texture of the ropes, ached with every pull. The splintered wood of the deck dug into my palms as I braced myself against the relentless assault of the waves.
A collective sigh of relief swept over the survivors as they gazed at the receding monstrosity. Gark, his eyes wide with horror, was a statue of fear.
"Well, we've got our own leviathan story to share now," I snapped. He simply nodded, his face pale, and turned away to assist the others.