Careful steps led Elena back to the ship’s outer deck, the metallic doors connecting it to the living quarters remaining open. As soon as her nose kissed the sea salt, wonder struck her eyes.
“Wow.”
To her surprise, the star-filled sky was not all that met her upon looking up. A blanket of light blue stood between her and the sky. It was some sort of protective barrier, bordering the edges of the vessel. Perhaps it was to prevent people from falling into the water? In that case, it’d probably be more useful during daytime, when people actually wandered the deck.
In any case, she’d soon be able to get an answer to that question and many more.
“There he is.”
Miles stood in a firm stance, swinging his arms in a heated sword fight with the surrounding air. Strong gusts of wind blew his hair and clothes, but he seemed unbothered by the cold, his entire body and soul focused on his training and nothing else.
How can he handle this weather while looking so aloof? I’m freezing!
Elena sauntered toward him, aiming to talk. To talk about what, she didn’t know. All that mattered was that, if he truly was her story’s romantic lead, they needed to start on the right foot.
“What do you want?” Miles asked, without turning around.
Elena halted abruptly in her tracks. His resonant voice filled her with fear, and the possibility of seriously annoying him shaped itself likely. Perhaps an apology was in form. “Hey, uhmm, sorry for the whole running naked thing. I’ll try not to do so again.”
Miles snorted. “Try? Is that something that’s hard for you to avoid?”
“Nononono, of course not… unless you want me to, of course.”
He turned his entire body around, then spoke sternly, “No. Don’t do that. Like, seriously, don’t. It’s weird.”
“Ok, ok, I won’t do it again. I promise,” she said, flailing her arms. It’s not like her antics were intentional, anyway. One moment, she was merrily humming some songs from her hometown, the next she was sleepwalking in the nude. How one thing led to the other, the world would never know.
Once she finished speaking, Elena cast her gaze downward, fiddling her thumbs. Partly out of being self-conscious of how ridiculous this entire scenario was, but also due to not wanting to be entranced by his eyes again. Last time, it felt like a spell was cast upon giving them a glance, stripping her of her senses and drowning her in his gaze.
I’ll probably go crazy if I look him in the eyes again.
Then again, one small peep wouldn’t hurt—she briefly looked up, and for just a second, the wind that before struck at them viciously had lost its bite.
For just a second, the surrounding sea, the clouds towering above them, none of them mattered. In that brief instant, the two of them simply exchanged gazes.
That look was all it took for Elena to realize the weight those pupils carried.
“If you’re done apologizing, then go to sleep,” Miles said, being the one to break the eye contact. “I have training to do.” He turned around, now having eyes only for his blade.
She was indeed done apologizing, but Elena was not gonna allow herself to be sent to bed so easily. Not when her mother used to order her to, and certainly not when she’d just learned something filled those eyes with anxiety. Stroking her lower lip, Elena gave careful consideration to the words soon to follow.
“Why do you fight?” she asked. “Why did you save me?” Those questions had been brewing in her mind since their first meeting in the city.
Miles continued flailing his weapon, before eventually bringing it to a halt. “I follow the Queen’s orders,” he said, straight to the point and with no mincing of words. “Now, could you please leave me be?”
“You’re… not just doing it for the money, right?”
Call it womanly instinct, call it a desperate wish that he was covering some kind of interest in her, but Elena felt there was sadness hidden behind the harsh exterior Miles was putting up. His cold demeanor contrasted heavily with the dorky embarrassment he’d shown earlier in the hallway.
Miles tightened the grip on his rapier. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know how to put it, but you just… don’t seem like the type, you know?” Her words were delivered clumsily, for they were not true to her real self. In truth, little he’d done suggested any deeper cause for his actions. It was just her attraction to him what led her to cling to the hope that he was more than a simple sellsword.
A long, loud exhale was Miles’ immediate response. Elena bit her lip, unsure if it meant good or bad news. She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, as he turned around and spoke.
“I’m looking for my sister.” His voice was brittle as if about to shatter, his eyes cast in the direction of the floor.
Elena brought a hand to her heart, as if trying to slow down its beating. It’d felt a touch rotten to say it, but this scene was a success; Miles had opened his feelings to her, even if for a small, fleeting moment.
Plus, the wind blew his hair, boosting his aloof aura. Elena was left choiceless but to stare intensely, resisting the urge to squee.
“W—Why am I telling you this!” he began shouting, all while stomping the wooden floor with his right foot. He then crossed his arms and looked away, his pout still visible to Elena.
Now, she couldn’t hold her squee in any longer, finding him adorable. Once her fangirl mode was turned off, she decided to be serious and give him some reassurance. “No need to be embarrassed. If I can help you out with finding your sister, I’ll do what I can!”
It was an easy promise to make, considering there wasn’t much she could do, anyway. Regardless, she raised her fist to the sky, a motion that acted as a seal to the envelope that was her conviction.
Following a defeated sigh, Miles said, “Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we’re handing you to the queen as soon as possible.”
“Oh, right. The Queen. The Queen I have a date with. The Queen of…uhmm…”
“Eternasia,” he filled in.
“Yes, that.” She began scratching the back of her head. “I embarrassed myself earlier before Leila.”
“I have no idea how you can grow up not knowing that,” he said, his disbelieving face seemingly desiring to be facepalmed, “but in any case, you better strengthen your geography if you want to be a part of our crew.”
Miles raised a valid point. It was probably unwise for a globe-trotting pirate crew to not know the first thing about the world they were sailing.
In fact, the best course of action would be to educate herself as soon as possible. So swallowing her saliva, she braced herself for the upcoming cringe and straight-up asked, “Could you, like, give me a rundown? Pretty please?”
Miles narrowed his eyes, a sign of being flabbergasted by Elena’s request.
“Sorry, it’s just… my parents sheltered me a lot as a kid. So like, yeah. You know, never got the chance to learn much.” It was about as good of an explanation as she could muster. She could come clean about being from another world, but that would sound even more unbelievable.
Despite her dishonesty, her words seemed to have lit a fuse in Miles, who raised his eyebrows and stared at her curiously, before asking, “Was your relationship with your parents… uhmm, you know, complicated?”
His question cut through Elena like an axe cuts wood. This whole conversation, it’d been her who attacked him with inquiries into his self, an attempt to break down his defenses and strike at his heart. Yet now, it was he who had delivered a counterattack, searching for an answer Elena struggled to find the strength to give.
“Yeah. I suppose you could say so,” she said solemnly, caressing her left arm. Despite her voice sounding feathery, she found pride in her response. She was proud she’d answered with honesty, even if Miles probably had no way of knowing her parents were not of this world.
A faint, yet sweet smile seeped out of Miles, who then said, “Fine. Let me give you a basic geography lesson.”
“Thank you.”
“Ok, so as you already know, the country where we met is called Luzterna.”
“Right.” She nodded along.
“And the city is called Catella.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Over to the west, we have—”
Miles carried on with his improvised lecture, to which Elena paid attention to. Or at least, she pretended to, her mouth giving out a steady supply of right’s, uh-huh’s and ah, I see’s, all perfectly timed to give the impression she was listening. Instead, Miles’ explanation entered her left ear and exited through her right, as she instead focused on the gap of his shirt, exposing his chest full of white hair and sharply defined abs.
“—are you even listening to me?”
“Y—Yes sir!” she yelled, startled after like a minute of zoning out.
“Geese, what I am going to do with—”
Miles halted his speech mid-sentence, for his eyes became fixed on the horizon. Elena shifted her own gaze to where Miles was looking, and spotted it; covered by a white mist, the shape of a ship was discernible.
“Sir,” cried out Galen, as he slid down the watchtower’s ladder. “Ghost Ship spotted in the distance.”
“Ghost Ship?” Elena parroted, realizing this meant bad news. She felt a touch annoyed that he might’ve been listening in on their conversation, but it was not the time to give such petty concerns time to brew.
“Tell everyone to gather here, weapons ready!” Miles ordered in a desperate tone.
“Roger!” Galen turned around, then dashed down the stairs to the living quarters.
“Elena, follow after him.”
She heeded his words; however her body remained immobile.
“You heard me? You’ll be safer inside.”
“Will you be fine?” she asked, sensing worry in his voice. There was not much she could do when it came to combat, but she still wished to contribute in any way she could. If it was true she was immune to death, then if push came to shove, she could serve as a sacrifice of some sort.
“Don’t worry about—”
Before he could finish, a loud sound akin to that of a flowing waterfall pierced their ears, growing increasingly louder by the second. Elena raised her vision and was met with some kind of substance, flashing different shades of purples and blacks and flying through the air.
Most importantly, it was flying through the air towards her.
“Watch out!”
Before she could process that her shock was too heavy as to allow her to move, she had been shoved away. Miles had dived forward in her direction, both their bodies dropping one on top of the other onto the hard ground.
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This is the second time this has happened today, she thought, as Miles’ body pressed hers. If attractive people throwing themselves on top of her was going to be a common occurrence, then she wasn’t one to complain
Those cheeky thoughts would pass as easy as they came, for they were still in danger. Miles quickly got up and drew his sword. A small explosion of purple fume had happened where the purple substance met the vessel’s wood. It cleared out in no time, but what stood before them was a tall, almost humanoid figure.
“Kill.”
Bones filled what appeared to be the creature’s torso, while its face had random patches of skin intertwined with plain, naked bone. A long, thin beak stood where a person’s nose would be, and a long horn decorated its forehead. The surrounding air became polluted with a smell so putrid it made mortals wish for death.
“Spawn of the Crow God, how dare you invade my beloved mother’s domain!” cried out Miles, his face swollen in anger.
“Kill,” the creature repeated, now gripping its horn. The skeletal creature used its hand to slowly pull its own horn out. Once held in its hand, a black aura wrapped the horn, transforming it into a long spear.
“Watch out!”
Despite resembling a human, the creature lacked a will. Killing was its only desire, and it had no qualm with throwing its own life away in the aim of fulfilling that ambition—if it even had a life, that is.
And so, the creature started its charge toward Miles. The latter stood firm, proudly raising his weapon but careful not to commit to any sloppy movement he may regret.
“Kill.”
The creature’s single word was monotone, almost calming, a complete contrast to the pure bloodlust it demonstrated with its harsh attack. The horn-turned-weapon attempted to poke at Miles’ chest, but it was avoided, as the agile rogue dodged to his right.
Now to its right, Miles readied his blade for a counterattack. There was a difference in range, as the spear significantly outranged the rapier Miles wielded, but he quickly made up the difference with a swift dash forward.
Once close enough, Miles raised his blade, attempting to bring it down to cut through the monster’s skull.
“Kill.”
To his dismay, his blow was blocked. The edge of his blade crashed with the tip of the spear, blocking his attack with such force he recoiled, being pushed a few steps back and nearly losing his handle on his weapon.
“Stupid Dark Kabeasts,” he whispered, as he swept the sweat off his forehead.
The Kabeast had in truth not tried to guard against his strike. To do that would mean going on the defensive, and only beings with care for their lives can know of such a concept. Instead, it had attempted to quench its lust for death with a stab on Miles’ neck. It was simply an unhappy accident that their weapons had decided to meet with one another.
“Kill.”
What distinguished a Dark Kabeast from a soldier was the way the being saw killing. It bore no meaning if the one perishing was a fellow warrior or an innocent. Death was the only language it understood, a language with all its words spelled the exact same way.
Hence why, the Kabeast turned its head and then its body, much like a cursed doll. Its target had shifted, turning its attention to the closest living being it could find and rushing in its direction.
Elena, who had been watching the fight from the sidelines, was now about to meet the sharp end of a spear.
“ARGHH!”
Elena’s reflexes were nowhere near those of Miles, but she still managed to leap away in time to save her life. Unfortunately, the Kabeast had swung while taking evasive maneuvers into account, and the spear managed to clip her leg. The sudden pain killed her balance, and she dropped prone on the floor, blood quickly beginning to leak out of her injured leg.
Time froze for a second, as thoughts raced on her mind.
Don’t tell me… not again...
Once again, she was lying on the ground, facing a dangerous situation far above anything she was used to dealing with on Earth. The creature was fast, so if it comes to finish her off, death would once again befall her.
This time, she could at least get on her knees, the adrenaline enough to ignore her pain for a second.
But it was not enough, as the Kabeast had closed the distance in the time she had barely managed to only think.
“Kill.”
And thus, the beast stabbed with its spear.
Would this be the last time? Was it even truly death what she’d experienced before? Earlier, she’d thought about abusing her potential ability to avoid death, yet now that the chance to confirm if such an ability truly exists, she was met with fear. Fear was the only emotion that swept her body as the device of death traveled toward her, only prayer left as her only form of defense.
Her prayer would be answered, for the stab would not go through.
The Kabeast split in two, its torso and head propelling upward, as its legs fell to the ground.
In the nick of time, Miles managed to cleave through the Kabeast’s body with his sword. Despite its exterior being raw bone, organs flew out of its body like confetti out of a piñata, tainting the floor with blood and other internal liquids, some of which slashed Elena. It was gross, but she was just happy to be alive.
“Thank you,” Elena said, before bringing her gaze down. Lying on the floor, a heart beat, devoid of blood to pump yet beating nevertheless. Eventually, it dissolved, turning into a purple liquid that quickly evaporated.
“What even are these things?” she asked, as Miles helped her get up.
“Kabeasts. Usually they’re incapable of piercing the barrier,” he said, in reference to the barrier surrounding the boat. “Something’s wrong here.”
He wouldn’t have time to think, as once again, that waterfall-like sound from before resounded. Behind them, three more Dark Kabeasts spawned. One wielded an axe, another a sword, and the last one had sharp claws for hands.
A single Kabeast was enough to serve a challenge to a warrior of even Miles’ skill, their lack of concern for their own survival enough to overcome the disparity in skill. Three of them would prove an insurmountable problem.
“Can’t you use that fire thing you did in town? You know, where you swing your sword and it goes woosh?”
“Are you insane? I’ll set the ship on fire.”
Miles nonetheless readied his weapon. No number of monsters could put a dent in his determination. If they kept coming, he’d eagerly cut every last one of them.
“We’re here!”
Announcing his arrival, Bronson stormed into the battlefield with careless bravery. He bent his beefy legs and leaped into the air, flying over Miles’ and Elena’s heads, a large battleaxe held in his hands; he swung it over his head as his body plummeted downward, the blade landing on a Kabeast’s skull with enough strength to quake even the air itself.
“I’ll cover you,” said Leila to Bronson, she too arriving at the scene. Out of her trouser’s pocket, she pulled out the same gun-like device Elena’s seen before; once again, a fireball came out of the barrel and engulfed the enemies. The device produced enough recoil to almost knock Leila backward off her feet, yet her skillful handling of it shone through, and she managed to keep her balance.
The combined power of the two fighters was enough to diminish the threat the two beasts created, but the battle had not ended. More and more Kabeasts kept spawning the instant one fell. The crew’s pirate ship had turned into a battlefield, one where one side was able to provide reinforcement. Bronson, from this point of view, could be said to be the one who defends the frontline; he stood strong and swung his axe sideways, aiming to control as much space as possible, each swing catching multiple creatures at once. In case any Kabeast tried to catch him off-guard, Leila could pick them off from a distance. It was a simple battle plan, one they seemed to carry with proficiency, but also one whose efficiency was limited by the never-ending forces the two of them were up against.
Galen, meanwhile, was a no-show. Considering his body was lanky and his character was posh, it was a safe guess that he wasn’t much of a fighter. What was more interesting was Miles, who, despite his fighting prowess, was staying out of combat, instead glancing intently at the Ghost Ship
“Thank you, guys,” said Miles, breathing a sigh of relief. “Please handle these guys. I’ll take on the ship.”
Elena raised an eyebrow and stared at him incredulously. “You’re gonna take on the entire ship all by yourself?”
“If I can take out the captain, the Ship will disappear.”
“Ok, but how are you—”
Before she could finish, Miles pulled a red stone out of the hilt of his sword, a small hole left in its place. Then, without even sparing it a look, he slotted in a stone of similar shape but of light-green color.
He raised his blade toward the sky, then proclaimed, “God that blesses us with the warmth of Wind, give my feet the strength to carry me through, give my blade the edge to cut through adversity.”
From out of nowhere, gusts of winds began to blow from all cardinal directions. Miles’s blade had become the compass that guided all these disparate winds; they swirled around the blade, encasing it in a shield of gale.
Soon enough, the blade’s blessing had spread to the body of its owner. Soon enough, there was no longer a distinction between sword and swordsman. Miles had become one with his sword. Miles had become one with the wind.
Elena, who stared with awe, blinked, and in the time it took for her eyes to open yet again, Miles had vanished from her sight. “Where did he—”
Suddenly, the water caught her eye. Off in the distance, large water splashes could be spotted, as well as a human figure whose size decreased every second.
Un-fucking-believable.
Whatever that stone Miles had used was, it’d allowed him to merge with the wind. Hence, he earned the will to move at a speed only befitting of the wind. His feet came in contact with the surface of the water and moved fast enough to not sink, the sea splitting every time he took a step.
This guy is either Sonic the Hedgehog, or Jesus.
Elena was in absolute disbelief that not only had she been blessed with a hot but dorky rogue for a love interest, but also he just so happened to be a superhuman.
“Why couldn’t I find men like that in my previous—”
Her thinking out loud was interrupted abruptly, as the ground shook beneath her feet, the sudden earthquake accompanied by loud thuds.
“We’re hit!” Leila blurted out.
Leila’s call was enough to figure out what had occurred. A projectile had collided with the ship, throwing it out of balance. The ship began to tilt, the flat floor slowly morphing into a slide of death.
Bronson stabbed the floor’s wood with his axe. Clinging on to it like a hanging bar, he made it harder for gravity to take effect and cause his body to slip off. Leila, meanwhile, was fast on her feet, and opened a small trapdoor that hid a stairway. Using its walls as a surface to stand on, she had no issue with finding her footing
“Elena!” they both shouted in unison, their voices screeching with worry.
It spoke to their confidence in their abilities, that even in such a precarious scenario, they were mostly concerned with Elena’s safety.
There was reason for this concern, as Elena was far less athletic than either of them. When the boat began tilting, Elena found herself slipping, what she called floor now next to her as a wall.
“Oh crap.” It was do-or-die. She needed to find something to grab onto, or else the ocean’s tides awaited her.
Of course, the possibility of waking up after death came into her mind in the form of brief flashes. Considering her lack of fighting skills, it would perhaps be better to let herself die, and just let Bronson and Leila handle everything, and wake up in a better scenario.
After all, she’d heard them. All they did was call her name, but that was all it took for her to know she was nothing more than a load. They spared no worries for one another; only for the worthless non-combatant.
“...”
But she gave up on that train of thought.
Not because it was a train on the wrong track, mind you. But because she gave one glance at the water. It splashed the side of the ship with the strength of a storm, and that was all it took for her to disregard any and all route that had a wet coffin as its destination.
To die by drowning… hell would freeze over before she went through that.
Hell would freeze over before she allowed herself to go through that again.
Thus, in the nick of time, her eyes caught wind of the watchtower’s ladder, the same one Galen used to climb it up and down. In one last desperate struggle, she lunged toward it just as the ground seemed to vanish beneath her feet. Much like Bronson, she managed to hang on for dear life, her feet dangling over the air. Tears of blood rained down, stemming from her prior leg injury.
“I’m fine!” Elena exclaimed joyfully, as she breathed a sigh of relief.
Of course, it was inaccurate to say the danger had ceased. Her arm strength wasn’t the best, so there was only so long she could hold on before falling down. But for a moment in time, Elena cared not. She was simply happy to avoid being at the sea’s mercy, and the adrenaline prevented her mind from feeling her leg’s pain or from feeling her arm starting to tire.
In any case, the moment would come to a fast end, as that unbearable odor pounded her nostrils once again, growing ever stronger. Drought with hesitation, she looked upward.
Standing on the wood of the now-angled watchtower, a Kabeast approached her, a spear in its hands.
There were no words it could say, and there were no words she could say for it. By simply glancing at it, Elena could tell her death was its only goal.
As the creature raised its weapon, little room remained for ambiguity, no room for choices beyond two. Elena had to choose between hanging on to certain death by blade, or gamble for the faint hope of survival born of opening her hands and letting herself fall.
It was a simple choice with an obvious, correct choice. And yet at first, her body froze, the prospect of a burial by sea chilling enough to slow down her decision-making.
Yet, as the spear approached her neck, she made her decision.
Her hands released their grip on the ladder, and her body began sliding down. The time spent hesitating had come to betray her, however, and the spear’s edge managed to clip her forehead.
“AUGH!” Elena let out a loud groan, loud enough to reach the heavens.
“Elena!”
The others called her name. But it didn’t matter. The sharp weapon had torn a hole in her skull. All her head now knew was pain. Sound, vision, all had been replaced by pain, the passage of time beginning to both slow down and increase in tempo.
Before her senses shut down for good, she felt her body become one with the sea. Soon, the only record of her life would be her red blood, breaking the monotony of blue by painting a small portion of the ocean.
Her vision was blurred, but she knew what this was. She was soon to drown. Yet somehow, panic was the only emotion she couldn’t feel. This time, peace overwhelmed her body.
Her body sunk deeper and deeper into the depths, the surface growing increasingly out of touch. It felt like hands were dragging her down, dragging her further from him.
Is it foolish…to hope?
Once again, death came accompanied by mocking images.
Wouldn’t it be nice if Miles somehow dived into the water? If he risked his life to save her? If the man was truly superhuman, surely such an act of heroism wasn’t beyond him.
That foolish idea was all her mind could cling to, a brief respite from its despair.
That was the image her mind left her with, as the water filled her lungs, bringing her life to an end.
Swallowed by waves of the Dead Sea, was a foolish girl.
A girl foolish enough to think hope existed for her, ignorant to the fact that her fate was already sealed. That all roads she could take only led to one end.
The moment the surrounding ocean blue was replaced by the darkness of death, any picture of hope disappeared.
Because in death, my dear Elena, there is only one face you’ll see.
Mine.