A ship hasn’t been lost until she’s been claimed by the ocean depths. If you can still carry even a single plank back to shore, then her soul will live on.

-Quoted from Elmer Saff, of Saff & Company

Nasar looked on as his oldest friend and twice-Captain rushed out to meet the upstart Commodore in battle. He remembered how Saff had practically soiled his pants when they fought against the Prince’s men. And yet now the boy was the biggest thorn in their side.

Despite Yasmin’s bluster, she was the first to rush to Trent’s aid, racing across the water on a carpet of ink. He allowed himself a smile. Some things never change.

Straining his ears, he listened as Commodore Saff began spouting nonsense about his pride and honour. Honestly, if the man spent half as much time doing his job as he did talking about it, he’d probably have been able to become the Sea Lord of the Minenblum Royal Navy by now. He had the talent for it.

Two of the naval officers appeared out of the sea, riding on silvery fish, to intercept Yasmin before she could reach the main battle. Even then, Nasar didn’t move a muscle. Yasmin could deal with those runts with a wave of her hand.

After her first strike was blocked, she sank under the surface in a whirlpool of midnight ink, followed by the two officers. They sure seemed eager to rush to their deaths.

Up ahead, the clash between Trent and the commodore was growing fiercer by the moment. Each time their blades clashed, towering waves radiated outwards. The ship was rising and falling violently, but held on.

At that moment, he saw a blue flash behind the commodore, racing towards the two men. With a frown, he kicked off the bow and crossed the distance in seconds.

Trent’s eyes flickered to him for less than a second as he passed, sharing an appreciative look. Interrupting that battle wouldn’t go well for anyone, but Nasar didn’t want the man to exert more energy than needed given his current state.

With a thought, his chef’s knife appeared in his hand and he cradled the lacquered handle with tenderness. This particular knife had been with him almost a decade, forged from a particularly rare metal they’d found inside a convergence.

It conducted arcane energy excellently. Trent originally wanted it for a blade, but lost their game of rock-paper-scissors. He’d been in a mood about that for a year, at the very least.

The blue flash drew nearer and he was able to make out the woman’s face. She was unfamiliar to him. Too young to have been present on that fateful day, so a new addition to Saff’s crew.

How difficult it must’ve been for her to swallow the damage to her career while following him in his endless pursuit of Trent… He felt sorry for the woman, but not for what he was about to do.

Her eyes widened when she realised there was someone in her path, but instead of trying to fight him, a gust of wind exploded from her feet and she shot to the right. Her attempt to avoid battle would’ve worked against most opponents, but Nasar was not most opponents.

He raised his left arm slightly and then sliced downwards with his knife. The woman yelled out and a burst of wind exploded from her palms as she hurriedly raised them in front of her.

A single hair floated down to the ocean’s surface, falling into the perfectly straight ravine that his slash had carved into the water. If she’d come to a halt even a millisecond later, she would’ve been cleaved in two.

There was a booming clap as the two walls of water slammed together, sending ripples in every direction as the sea became whole once more. Nasar slowly turned to face his foe, a half-smile on his face at her still terrified expression.

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“It’s very rude to ignore someone standing right in front of you, young lady,” he scolded her while wagging a finger.

His remark seemed to drag her back to reality and her face twisted into a fierce scowl. “Who the hell are you to get in my way?” she sneered, a rapier appearing in her right hand.

“The young truly have no manners,” he sighed, running a finger along the back of his knife. “I suppose it falls to me to teach you what your parents and superiors did not.”

Small gusts of wind gathered around her hands and feet. Nasar wasn’t worried about her retaliation. The telegraphed use of her skills was easier to read than his recipe book—and he’d gone through that over a thousand times.

The girl burst forward, carried on the wind. Her arm swung faster than humanly possible as her skills propelled the rapier towards his heart.

He gently stepped to the left, before slashing at her shoulder. A shallow cut appeared; a perfect line of scarlet.

Truthfully, Nasar had no desire to kill the girl. He had no grudge with her. All he needed to do was keep her busy until Trent was able to beat back Saff once more.

And he really wasn’t lying when he said she had no manners. Perhaps some light sparring with him would teach her what she sorely lacked.

To her credit, she barely flinched when she was cut. Another burst of wind later, her rapier was fast approaching his neck. Another simple step took him out of its path before he sliced into her thigh.

The next few exchanges followed a similar pattern and he could see her growing more and more frustrated at his antics. As he cut across her ribcage, leaving little more than a graze, she snapped.

“What the hell is wrong with you, old man?!” she roared, stomping her feet like a toddler. “Stop toying with me and fight,” she hissed, striking out once more.

Well, if she insisted. He’d been trying to go easy on the girl and teach her a little about her own weaknesses, but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped…

This time, instead of avoiding her wild thrust, Nasar raised his right hand and pinched down with his thumb and forefinger. If there was one part of a chef’s body that could be said to be impervious to damage, it would be their fingers.

Years of grabbing things out of pans and open fires, having searing oil splash onto him, and more had tempered the skin until even his calluses calluses had calluses. There was a snap as the girl’s momentum continued forcing her arm forwards despite the blade being stopped.

Instead of letting her body fly into him unassailed, Nasar kept his knife and grabbed her by the throat. Then, he ripped the rapier from her grasp and tossed it miles away into the ocean.

She still had a defiant glare in her eyes, but tears streamed out as the pain from her shattered arm consumed her. He shook his head and sighed deeply.

“You know, you could’ve left this little scuffle with a few scratches and plenty of insight into how to improve your combat style,” he said, ceasing his frown when he saw her eyes widen in realisation.

However, even if the girl had finally understood his intentions and the limits of her skill, it was too late. He’d given her a chance and she’d squandered it. Now, he would be the ruthless man the world knew him to be.

Nasar tightened his grip on her throat and she squirmed, clawing at his wrist with her remaining arm. It was futile. She didn’t even leave a mark with her pathetic attacks.

Her eyes flickered shut once. She was almost unconscious. Nasar spared himself a moment to check on Trent and saw that he was struggling a little, but the man had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

Suddenly, a flash of green light made him turn back to the girl and the moment that light hit his eyes he went blind. His vision returned for a second but as soon as it did he saw the tip of a rapier just millimetres from his throat.

In an inhuman display of agility, he contorted his waist and shifted away from the girl’s lethal strike. However, he wasn’t able to dodge completely and a burst of wind exploded from the blade at the last moment, causing it to slash downwards and through his shoulder.

His left shoulder…

His body moved on instinct and he couldn’t stop himself from squeezing hard enough to snap the girl’s neck. Her body went limp and he dropped her into the ocean. A second splash came after her body fell and his eyes darted towards the sinking knife.

In a flash he was beside it, reaching out to grab… nothing. He’d lost his left hand. A second later he’d grabbed the knife in his right, but it felt all kinds of wrong.

At that moment, another ear-splitting explosion shook the battlefield. He turned, thinking Trent and the commodore’s clash had reached the finale, but was shocked when he instead saw Liberty shattered into three pieces.

Without a second though he gripped the knife, still not comfortable and constantly shifting his fingers, before rushing to help the two kids.