“Death Sirens! They are swimming towards us! Sir Charles, please get inside!”

Agitated, Galen performed the role of a human alarm. Through the use of a special telescope powered by a Fire Crystal, he’d managed to spot the incoming threat even in the dark of the night.

“I’m afraid that would be unwise,” Charles replied. “On such narrow corridors, a fighter of my quality could prove—ARRGH!”

Without even finishing his sentence, Charles let out a screech as he dropped to his haunches and covered his ears, his face conveying pain.

“What’s wrong?” Elena asked with a widened stare.

“Oh no. It’s begun already,” said Galen.

At that moment, a loud whisper sailed across the heavens. It was uncanny in its beauty. It carried the pleasantness of a song, and simultaneously caused your stomach to turn.

“Go tell everyone else,” said Elena, observing Galen standing still like a statue. “I’ll watch over Charles.”

“I’m sorry Lady Elena, but you staying here is dangerous. I advise you to accompany me—”

“GO!”

Elena shouted her order, and Galen was left with no choice but to comply. “Very well. But be careful. The Siren’s song is a powerful spell, said to hypnotize all men who listen to it. Nobody knows what effect it may have on the Prince.”

“I’ll be fine. Hurry.”

Turning away from Galen, Elena turned her attention to Charles, whose body had now collapsed onto the wooden floor.

“Come on, resist it.”

Elena tried to hold Charles tightly, but his body rejected her touch with a violent quake. Undecipherable nonsense seeped out of his mouth, the cries of a man whose control over his own body had been overruled.

Despite this, Elena insisted, her arms surrounding his torso. She felt she had no choice. If these Sirens were like those from myths from her own world, then leaving Charles alone could result in him hurling himself into the sea.

Part of me would be fine with that Elena thought to herself. But much as she wanted to entertain that thought, the situation asked for seriousness out of her. She licked her lips, put on a brave face, and put all of her muscle strength into wrestling with Charles.

“GAH. ARGHHAHAAHG.”

Almost as if suffering a seizure, his entire body would not stop shaking, all while his voice exclaimed blood-curdling screams. Elena glanced behind her, hoping to see the rest of the crew arrive at last.

“Come on already! I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold him in—”

She halted her complaining mid-sentence, as she was struck by an unusual sight.

—Her left arm, launched upward, scattering drops of blood as it flew across its path.

Her eyes widened. Her entire body froze, unable to process the situation. Her throat was so dry she could die of thirst.

It was happening again. The memories were coming back. Where her arm should be, there was pain. Indescribable, undecipherable pain.

Was today a day that would forever haunt her dreams? Her nightmare had begun in a similar way, losing a limb at the hands of someone she thought she could trust. Was today gonna result in a similar fate?

Those questions troubled her mind as she witnessed Charles rise to his feet and turn around to face her. Unlike Mr.H before, his overall appearance did not differ much from his usual self. His skin retained its usual form, and he lacked the beak common to Kabeasts.

Only one aspect had changed.

The aggression his eyes conveyed—only a murderous beast could carry such a gaze.

Recognizing trouble was approaching, Elena gripped the side of her shoulder to prevent blood from leaking and leaped to the side. Her guess proved correct; Charles lunged at her with his sword with all the weight of his body, swinging at the air Elena left behind.

Her movement was a preemptive one, out of necessity. Bearing the pain from her arm, her already-slow reactions would not have sufficed to dodge in time had she waited for Charles to swing. She’d been lucky to guess both his intention as well as his timing. Had she moved any sooner, Charles would’ve realized and altered the trajectory of his attack. Had she been any slower, she’d have been cut like Swiss cheese.

Then again, would that be so bad she pondered, as the aching from her torn limb burned into her soul.

She was going to die. The bells were tolling for her inevitable end. And yet, the nightmarish requiem dragged on, filling the air with pointless tension building toward a climax long forecasted.

She didn’t want to die. Death still terrified her. But death itself she was willing to make peace with. It was the prelude to death what she truly feared, a piece consisting of her screams instead of notes.

A putrid odor filled her nostrils. She glanced to her left and let out a defeated sigh.

Of course. There was no other way.

“Kill,” a dozen demonic voices said in unison

The creatures that uttered that word differed in appearance from those found in her recurring nightmares. They carried the look of voluptuous women much like mermaids, except their lower body resembled the bottom of a slug rather than fins. Their breasts were bare, with their nipples possessing the shape of a beak. Their arms ended in sharp, feline claws the size of Elena’s entire head. A mere poke by one of those would be enough to stab through Elena’s intestines.

They lumbered toward her from the right, while Charles did the same from her left. Surrounded, the inanity of her situation made itself clear.

Why was she struggling? Any second that she remained alive, the worse her death could be. Taking death by Charles’ blade was probably painless in comparison to what she knew those creatures, driven entirely by bloodlust, had the potential to dish out.

Charles’ blade swung in a horizontal arc, aimed at Elena’s neck. Compared to the one previous, it was a slow, clunky attack, lacking in proper form and easily avoidable.

—And yet, it landed upon its target, splitting Elena’s head from her body.

----------------------------------------

“Get up.”

A feminine voice called for her.

More than a person, it sounded like a memory. Its sound overwhelmed the maelstrom of darkness that comprised her surroundings.

“You really haven’t changed at all.”

A correct assessment.

For one with a power like hers, to slumber in the realm of the dead was no different from sleeping in her bed.

Much as before, Elena had been given an opportunity to fight. To stand tall against adversity.

And same as before, she’d chosen the route of weakness.

Elena had said that she’d fight to change the world. And yet, she was afraid of the hardship such a stance would bring. That was why, when faced with the risk of a painful, drawn-out death, Elena instead chose to be slain in a quick, clean manner.

If she was an existence transcendent of human limits, one content with suffering in the name of her beliefs, then she would have no need to ever make such a choice. Knowing she was more useful alive than dead, Elena would have stood tall and fought, however she could and for as long as she could, against the rampage of the incoming beasts.

But that was not the existence that Elena was.

She was a brittle being, one whose determination was as fragile as the bones that formed her body.

She could fill her mouth all she wanted, with platitudes about ending the injustices of the world. But so long as her resolve was a faltering one, she would have no choice but to submit.

“There’s no helping you. Die and stay dead.”

“No. Shut up!”

Her drifting soul fought back against the voice. The clouds of darkness dispersed, and light broke into the dark void that filled her whole world. The light led her back, to the world she yearned to return to.

Simply adorable. Worthy of a laugh. There remained enough light inside of her to snatch her away from my grip.

It was only a matter of time, however. The day would soon come.

One day, my dear Elena—you’ll be powerless before the despair inhabiting your soul.

----------------------------------------

The world surrounding Elena had changed.

The tranquility of the nightly sea remained there. A deep blue hue spread endlessly in both sea and sky.

Yet within the barrier surrounding the Hellwave’s Traveler, chaos had ensued. The screech of creatures assaulted her ears, and that odor she’d smelled as she died only grew in intensity.

Lying prone, Elena slowly opened her eyes, observing the battle from the floor. She saw about six Death Sirens, crowding up together with bloodlust on their hungry claws.

“Die, you scum.”

A feminine scream announced the upcoming attack. The azure that tinted the air was suddenly tainted by a splash of orange. An explosion of fire heated the atmosphere, spreading flames across the body of the beasts.

“Leila got… this under control, I see…” Elena whispered under her breath.

Her body was back to usual form after reviving from death. Her arm was stitched back together, and her head was glued back to her neck.

And yet, Elena felt weak, weaker than she’d ever been. Observing her immediate surroundings, the area near her was free from danger. All the monsters appeared indifferent to her existence.

She’d been gifted the opportunity to stand up and contribute something to the result of the battle. Maybe yell at the creatures and provide a distraction.

Instead, her body rebelled against that idea. Perhaps she found the wooden floor just as comfy as a bed, or perhaps she was simply too afraid of that soul-crushing pain again. But in any case, Elena acted as a mere bystander to the carnage, content with seeing Leila successfully shoot their enemies.

But her view would come to be blocked. Beefy legs clad in black slops got in the way.

A sight she’d peeked at many, many times with lustful eyes, she immediately uttered the name of the man those legs belonged to.

“Miles?”

Her body radiated a sense of relief. She raised her eyes and head upward. She was met by the face of the handsome, young pirate.

Except it was all wrong.

The luster of those golden eyes shone for its absence, the void of his pupils eclipsing it entirely. A spire of screams overtook all other sounds, and at that moment, Miles’ right arm began to lurch. Without a word, he raised his blade before the cowering Elena, who simply covered her face with her hands as if it would accomplish anything.

Elena screamed her lungs out as the blade came down toward her, a scream appropriate for an attack of such magnitude.

An attack that never reached its target.

“Barrera. Invocar. Proteger.”

The sound of steel slashing through steel that should’ve followed his swing was forbidden from taking shape. In its place, a splosh reverberated loudly. A barrier made of floating water waves appeared before Elena’s eyes.

The way waves dictate the course of a ship, the waves altered the course of Miles’ blade, diverting its cutting edge away from Elena.

A Water spell cast with the aim of protecting one dear. Miles turned to face the caster, who’d dared get between him and his victim.

With an arm extended as her silver hair fluttering in the wind, Cordelia strode toward them. Her azure eyes, which at a glance blended in with the dark of the night, shone bright with fierce determination.

“Lady Elena, please find somewhere to hide.”

“I told you not to—”

“Not the time!” Cordelia shouted as Miles lunged with his blade at her. “Invierno. Encubrir. Alrededor.”

Rays of blue beamed out of her raised arm. Soon, that blue glow spread across her entire body, and soon spilled out of her and into the world around her.

In an instant, waves of ice traveled the air in all directions.

Miles, caught by the sudden frostbite, found his feet frozen in a block of ice. As he was moving forward when this happened, the sudden break in his forward momentum caught him off-guard, and he flailed his arms and dropped his weapon. The magic Cordelia had cast forbade him from moving, effectively removing him from the battle.

Stolen story; please report.

The Death Sirens recoiled at the blizzard of Mana. It didn’t kill nor particularly harm any of them. What the ice did manage was to stun them long enough for Leila to aim her gun at the heads of three of them. The ensuing fireballs torched the creatures’ bodies,

Elena, by contrast to all of them, felt the temperature decrease, but was otherwise unharmed. The cold Cordelia had brought was a selective one, that actively chose who to hurt and who to ignore.

But a spell of such magnitude was sure to come at a steep cost. Especially on one with as frail a build as Cordelia.

With the grace of a fluttering feather, Cordelia collapsed to the ground. Her descent was slow, as if she was fighting to stay afloat.

“Cordelia!”

Elena raced to the girl’s aid, catching her body with her arms.

“Don’t worry about Miss Cordelia. Tiredness is a natural part of casting such powerful magic. I need you to concentrate on the battle.”

The one speaking to her was Galen, a fact Elena only recognized once she saw his face, for his voice lacked its characteristic pompous ring. Instead, he spoke in a hurry, desperation coloring his tone.

“You can’t expect me to just leave her here! I—”

“I’ll watch over her,” Galen interrupted. “I beg of you. Help out Bronson.”

Galen’s honest plea struck Elena with the force of a cannonball. The words he uttered made an impact on her, but not the one she suspected he was hoping for. Elena blinked in rapid succession, then tilted her head.

“Pardon? You are asking me to help out a tough guy like Bronson?”

“Whatever you can do, it’s sure to be more than I can,” he said, glancing down at himself. “Look!” He pointed with his arm.

On the opposite wing of the ship, a unique branch of the battle was taking shape. Bronson found himself wrestling against a small platoon of about a dozen Death Sirens. They weren’t slashing at his skin with their claws. Rather, they stretched out their necks like rattlesnakes, and used them to cuff his limbs. One Death Siren wrapped his arms, another his legs. One more choked his neck. As they did this, their bodies lost their monstrous appearance, instead morphing into rope. Normal-seeming, brown rope. The remaining Sirens pulled his body, trying to drag him into the sea. Bronson struggled, difficulting their efforts, but should nobody intervene a moist fate awaited him.

“The song the Death Sirens chant… it seems to have a hypnotic effect on men of the sea,” Galen said.

“Well, do something. You’re his lover, aren’t you?” Elena said, feeling saliva rush down her neck.

“I am useless!” Galen said. “Anything I try would end in disaster. So please, Lady Elena, I beg of you…”

The strength of his words began to fizzle out the longer he spent uttering them, more tears coming out of his eyes than sounds came out of his mouth. He was so assured in his own lack of worth that Elena could not help but believe his words. Among the many options that existed for getting them out of this situation, having Galen fight was not the correct one. It would not lead to victory.

“Ok, but what about Lei— oh.”

She interrupted herself, not having the gall to go forward with that suggestion.

At that moment, Leila had her hands fully served. Albeit she’d managed to kill off three of the Death Sirens that were encroaching on her, the other three remained chasing after her. Worst of all, a familiar attacker was also on her tail; the hypnotized Charles too was aiming for her head.

For a long-range fighter, Leila was holding her ground surprisingly well. She weaved between the slashes of both claw and sword, and used her long legs to deflect attacks when dodging was out of the question. But it was purely a defensive effort. The shots of her gun took a long time to charge compared to modern firearms from Earth while having about as much recoil, meaning that from such a close distance it was hard to shoot effectively. Plus, Charles made sure to stand in front of the creatures, ensuring he could block any fireball.

It was clear that such a battle, were it allowed to carry on in its current state, would result in Bronson’s death at best, in everyone’s total annihilation at worst.

Why me?

It was unfair. A request beyond her level of competency. But it was a task that fell upon her all the same. Someone had to provide a turning point in their favor, and it appeared that person had to be her.

But why her? Galen’s frigid gaze and shivering body made for a pitiful, pathetic sight. But much as she wished she could claim to differ from him, to affirm so would mean to speak with a fervor that simply did not exist within her. After all, just minutes before, she’d deliberately chosen to jump at a blade’s edge, in exchange for not exposing her body to a worse pain.

Was she really the kind of person who could provide a turning point in a battle?

A raucous noise penetrated her ears, causing her eyes to blink. It was the screech of a Death Siren, who was approaching her and Galen. Before it could reach its destination, the creature was assaulted by an explosion of flame, seemingly coming down from the sky. This attack was enough to divert the beast’s attention, instead turning for the one who’d launched the fireball.

This person was of course Leila. Despite being in a life-or-death struggle herself, Leila made the effort to leap into a nearby wall, bend her knees as the sole of her feet made contact with the wood, and propelled herself into the air. In mid-air, she shot toward the Death Siren who was creeping toward Elena and Galen.

Witness to such a desperate maneuver, Elena clenched her fist, all remaining doubt exiting her body.

With people such as Leila and Cordelia giving her all for her sake, she knew she had no right to lazily stand around. If it was up to her to make a difference, then she needed to make use of whatever chance she was gifted.

Glancing around the environment, Elena had to devise a plan. Her eyes finished their darting upon noticing Miles’s sword, lying on the ground. Without a sign of trembling on her pulse, Elena’s legs began to move, one after the other. She crouched momentarily, picked up the blade, and looked at the Death Sirens that had Bronson under their control.

She closed her eyes. Her mind ran simulations of what might occur were this to go awry. She’d get torn to shreds. Dozens of sharp claws would puncture her body, stripping her of her blood and guts. Her eyes would get poked. Her neck would get cut open.

Steered up for such fates, she let out a roaring cry as she rushed forward.

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”

With all the strength her arms provided her, she swung at the slug-like torso of the nearest beast.

The steel she wielded clanked against it, and the weapon bounced off her hand, sent flying before landing on the floor.

“Huh?” she exclaimed, as she stared at her now empty hand.

“Oh right,” Galen chimed in, “Death Siren bodies have the appearance of slugs, but they possess the sturdiness of metal.”

“And you’re telling me this now!” Elena reproached.

All her pathetic attempt-at-an-attack had succeeded at was angering the Death Siren, who roared at Elena, showing its fangs.

“Oh crap!”

The Siren stretched out its torso, and used it to sweep the floor in front of it, knocking Elena backward into the floor.

Towering over its supine prey, the creature with the appearance of a busty woman readied its claws for a killing strike.

“Kill.”

Elena took a deep breath. Then, she let out a chortle.

Isn’t it funny? I always used to post on Tumblr about wanting sexy women to tear me apart. And now that it’s about to happen, I’m afraid.

More than a thought, a coping method. That dreaded pain was soon to arrive. Scars that would accompany her for the rest of her life were about to be carved on her psyche. All she could do was close her eyes and wait for it to be over.

Those sensations she dreaded so, so much—they never arrived.

In their place, she felt a breeze. That of a sword that moved so fast, it seemed to kick up wind as it traveled.

“Miles?” she said, questioning what her eyes relayed to her.

The hypnotized swordsman stood between her and the beast, blocking the deadly blow. His body remained in a lurching state, and the color of his eyes alternated between its natural gold and a black that represented corruption.

Even now, he was struggling between the seductive song of the Sirens, said to turn all men into slaves, and his will to fight for the woman he cherished dearly.

“He’s resisting the spell for me!” Elena could not help but let out squee, with hearts in place of pupils.

More than just resisting, however, he was overcoming it. Albeit he could not speak, he no longer showed hostility against Elena. Instead, his sword cleaved the Siren’s head in one clean swoop.

Understanding the threat Miles presented, two of the remaining Sirens lunged at him. They had the numbers advantage, but that was all they had. They cut through the air with their dirty, disease-ridden claws, but being mere monsters they lacked any real finesse. Miles, demonstrating the quality of his swordsmanship, parried each attack effortlessly.

In order to protect their heads, which were their only weak point, the creatures grew in size, so much so their faces were about to pierce the sky.

An attempt at powering up would require a similar increase in power to overcome. It was not a coincidence, then, that a harsh breeze began to blow.

Miles’ raised his sword. All around it, the wind began to dance.

Soon, all of Miles’ body was one with the wind.

The sky, the sea—the entire world— began to tremble, shaken by the power emanating from his blade. But Miles stood firm, simply staring upward at the creature that pretended to be his enemy.

“Kill.”

A giant claws attempted to crush him. Even for a regular warrior, it was a predictable attack. For one that was merged with the wind, it was like avoiding a tortoise.

Thus, Miles leaped into the air in an instant. He used the beast’s arm as something of a stepping stone, landing his feet on it. Then, he bent his knees and leaped even higher. Once his upward momentum halted, he began running sideways up the Siren’s torso, which despite its larval look was solid as titanium.

Reaching the peak of the creature’s height, Miles jumped and landed on its massive breasts. As they bounced downward, he swung his blade and cut its neck in one blow.

As the head flew, he used the bouncing breasts as an improvised trampoline, propelling across the air into the head of the other Siren, who stood in parallel at a similar height. Swinging his sword, Miles became a soaring, human buzzsaw. The tip of the blade dug into the second Kabeast’s forehead. Recoiling in pain, the creature tried to crush him with its hand, like trying to stomp a bug. Miles pulled the sword back and began to plummet; less than a second into his descent, he struck the neck in mid-air, cutting it in one fell swoop.

He continued falling, his body about to collide with the floor. He slashed the air right beneath him; a gust of wind slowed his fall, making way for an elegant landing.

Even after having known him for a month, Elena was awestruck. This was the power of a Wind Dancer. A man who could merge with the wind itself, channeling the power of the Wind God as fuel for his run.

To think that in this world, warriors of such caliber existed…

—To think she seriously believed there was anything she could contribute to a battle of such scale.

----------------------------------------

“We won!”

Elena, who remained entranced by the swordsman’s transcendent skills, blinked rapidly. Leila’s triumphant proclamation brought her back to reality.

“We did?” Elena glanced in all directions. There were no signs of any Death Sirens anywhere onboard.

“Charles here seems to no longer be under the Sirens’ spell,” Leila said.

“I can confirm,” Charles said. “I am back to being myself.”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing, to be honest. But I guess not trying to murder us is an improvement,” Elena joked. “Does that mean the creatures retreated?”

“Yes,” answered Leila. “We slayed about half. The others recognized a lost cause and escaped into the sea. With them gone, their song lost effect.”

“So these creatures can enchant all men who hear their song… wait a minute, then why wasn’t Galen affected? He seemed fine to me.”

Elena raised her question, and the impact on Charles and Leila was immediate. They both began pulling the collar of their shirts, and Charles let out a fake cough.

“Well, you see… legends speak of Death Sirens seducing men, but it’d be more accurate to say ‘people who like women’,” Charles explained. “And Galen, well, y’know…”

“Oh. Right, they look like women. Yeah. That makes sense…”

Except it didn’t. There was one thought that was dragging her through the mud.

Elena bit her lower lip. She turned her head to look behind her, attempting to do so subtly but failing. What was on her mind was evident.

Cordelia was lying on the floor. She was sleeping, recovering from the exhaustion casting that spell had caused her. Elena was relieved to confirm, but in truth, that wasn’t the reason Cordelia was on her mind.

“Cordelia wasn’t affected by the spell...”

The implication of that fact weighed on her, so much so her heart wanted to escape from her chest.

All this time, every time she met Cordelia’s azure eyes, she’d felt nothing but passion seep out of them. She was sure such tenderness in the face of a young lady could only be born from love.

It was this concept that boosted Elena’s resolve, what pushed her to fight in Cordelia’s name.

But if all along, Cordelia wasn’t into girls, then surely she’d been led astray.

Elena felt betrayal take over her. Every act of rebellion she’d made on the young girl’s name flashed before her eyes. Each one seemed to lose its purpose.

Then again, it had no effect on me, either.

Continuing her thought from earlier, Elena exhaled smoke out of her nose, bewildered at her own hypocrisy. She, of all people, deserved no right to speak on this matter.

Back in her world, most of her crushes had been men. Some real, some fictional, but men all the same. Only once had she been able to speak of loving a girl; even then, those were reckless words, words born from intense emotions that perished that same day.

“Don’t worry so much.”

“Waaah!”

Resting her arms on Elena’s shoulders, Leila looked at her with a smug grin. Her lips made of roses were so tantalizingly close, Elena had to fight off the impulse to smooch them. The perfection of her golden hair and pristine skin only served to further that urge.

“The spell is also ineffective on Marked. Which means that you and Cordelia were also immune to it.”

Leila had read Elena’s mind, effortlessly spotting the source of her worries. Elena wasn’t sure if Leila’s perception was extremely good, or if she was just that easy to read. Probably the latter.

As she pondered further about things that mattered little, Elena had come to a realization.

“Wait, does this mean that you too are a Marked?” Elena asked.

Leila tilted her head, sinking the both of them into an uncomfortable silence.

“Huh? Where did that come from?” I am not, for the record.”

“But then that means…”

The realization struck Elena.

The gorgeous blonde woman before her… would never be into her. She could feel her soul leak out of her.

“I count this as queerbaiting”, she said under her breath, defeated.

“You count this as what, not?” Leila asked with a perturbed look.

“N—Nevermind. Anyway, you said Charles’ back to normal, right? Then that means…”

She glanced back to where Miles was standing. His hand was on his sheath. He was striking cool, dramatic pose. He brought his hand to his forehead, suffering a headache.

“What the… what happened?”

Elena stepped toward him, then said, “Oh, don’t worry too much about it. You just got possessed by some demons. No biggie.”

“What?” Miles yelled out loud. “Did I harm anyone?”

“Nah, don’t worry… well, ok, you did try to kill me at one point, but Cordelia protected me! Everything’s hunky-dory.”

Elena spoke completely nonchalantly. Yet, her words provoked a reaction out of Miles, who brought his fist to his chest while his gaze froze.

“Again, don’t worry, everything’s fine!” Elena waved her hands. “In fact, you looked really cool fighting all those monsters!”

“Is Cordelia fine?” Miles asked. His concern was written all over his voice.

“Yeah, she is over there, resting but untouched. Galen is watching over her, see?”

Elena pointed at where Cordelia rested. To her shock, however, she was all alone, as Galen was not within her frame of view.

“Wait…”

“GAAAAAH!”

Before she could even ask where he’d gone, a cry of agony revealed the answer.

Glancing to her left, a sight most despicable itched itself into her eyes. On his knees, Galen stared at the cold, uncaring sea.

“He’s gone,” Galen uttered, his voice deprived of any strength.

Oh, shit.

They had managed to fend off the Kabeast attack, but they’d taken a casualty in the process—Bronson, under the Sirens’ spell, had been dragged to the bottom of the sea.

Left alone without the man he loved, Galen’s heart appeared about to break. His legs were shaking, appearing willing to follow Bronson into the water. He stomped the floor with his fists, and his tears became one with the salt sea.

“I am all alone now.”

Looking at the profile of the grieving man, Elena felt her own heart flutter. There was something so vivid, so intense about the emotions being portrayed, the scenario seemed ripped out of a BL manga.

She kept that thought to herself, and simply strolled up to him and caressed his back, attempting to console him. “Galen, I—”

“Don’t touch me!” He shouted, slapping away Elena’s well-intentioned touch.

In an instant, Galen’s sorrow had morphed into wrathful aggression. He got on his feet and stared at her with a piercing gaze. He said no words, but Elena felt her soul sink into a puddle with every passing second.

He then turned his body to face Miles. The intensity of his glare only increased, revealing the real target of his ire.

“You… you resisted the Siren’s spell for her. That’s supposed to be impossible.”

When only considering their meaning, Galen’s words were of praise. But his cold tone and harsh body language revealed the truth of his feelings.

“And you did that for whom? For a random girl you barely know. But not for your supposed best friend?”

His accusation struck a vein within Miles, as the pirate captain’s eyes widened in response.

“Galen,” Leila interceded, “Miles was literally mind-controlled. You can’t just hold him accountable for something like this.”

“SHUT UP! Don’t stand up for him”—he returned his focus to Miles— “We all know that you never cared for Bronson at all. Ever since finding your sister, all you care about is getting into some random Marked girl’s pants!”

“Galen that’s enough!” Leila shouted, trying to return order to the crew.

Having lost control of his emotions, Galen was on the receiving end of everyone’s stares. All of them empathized with him, but it was clear they perceived him as the bad guy. Miles, meanwhile, made no attempt to defend himself, simply casting his gaze downward, admitting guilt.

“Whatever. I don’t know why I attempt to reason with any of you. I don’t know why I joined this stinking crew!”

Carving a trail of tears as he went, Galen dashed into the lower, presumably to share with his pillow his lament.

“Galen, wait!” Elena tried to say, but it served no purpose, her words unable to reach him.