The ocean rose.
Not a wave.
Not a storm.
The ocean itself seemed to heave upward.
For several breath-stealing seconds, nobody moved.
The ocean wind completely vanished.
Then a Guardian soldier screamed.
“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”
Pandemonium broke out across the warship deck.
Soldiers scrambled for cover, dragging heavy ballistas into position.
Caelum Voss didn’t flinch.
His boots remained anchored to his ship’s prow, his dark eyes locked onto the sea.
Justus stepped up beside Daemon, staring into the massive shadow rising from the deep, his wounds from his previous fight with Ragnar still uncomfortable.
“It’s getting closer.”
Daemon didn’t answer right away.
He shouldered his heavy rifle, his usual dry smirk completely gone.
“That’s no warship, kid.”
“I know.”
A low rumble vibrated through the water—a sound so deep Justus felt his chest echo with it.
In his right hand, Gryphon began to pulse violently, its purple-hued hilt warming against his palm.
Justus looked down at his blade.
“You feel it too?”
“Your sword?” Daemon grunted, not taking his eyes off the dark water.
Before Justus could reply—
BOOOOOOOM!
The ocean exploded!
A colossal creature burst through the surface.
Its serpentine body was armored in thick, dark-blue scales that slicked with seawater, and four sprawling fins stretched from its spine.
Its head alone loomed larger than Caelum’s main warship.
It unhinged its massive jaws, revealing rows of translucent, jagged teeth.
“An Abyssal Beast…” a Guardian soldier whispered, trembling.
The creature roared.
The shockwave hit the fleet like a physical blow, rocking the smaller vanguard ships violently and forcing several grunts to their knees.
Daemon gripped his rifle tight.
“That’s one ugly fish.”
Justus glanced sideways.
“Fish?
That’s the best you’ve got?”
“I’ve seen worse,” Daemon muttered.
“No, you haven’t.”
“…Fair point.”
Caelum’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip.
“ARCHERS!
FIRE AT WILL!”
A volley of heavy black-steel arrows rained down on the monster.
Most shattered on impact against its blue scales.
The beast didn’t even register the hit.
BOOM!
With a single sweep of its massive tail, the nearest Guardian vanguard ship was tossed sideways, its wooden deck splintering like twigs as soldiers spilled into the water!
“Evacuate the flank!” Caelum commanded.
Caelum leapt straight off his main warship, landing smoothly on the deck of the sinking vessel.
Compressed, mirror-like Spiritual Energy exploded around him.
“Reinforcement!”
Caelum’s blade turned pitch black.
He launched himself into the sky, moving so fast Justus’s eyes barely tracked him.
CLANG!
Caelum slammed his reinforced saber directly between the beast’s eyes!
A ring of compressed air tore outward, forcing the monster to recoil with a pained screech as a thin line of black blood leaked between its scales.
Daemon let out a low whistle.
“Okay.
The Captain’s got bite.”
“He’s sharp,” Justus agreed.
Caelum landed back on the ruined deck, wiping a trickle of blood from his forehead.
“Don’t just stand there watching!
It’s an Abyssal Leviathan—it has enough power to sink this entire fleet!”
“That’s considerably less funny,” Daemon grunted, racking his rifle’s bolt.
The creature’s throat flared with an ominous, blinding blue light.
Caelum’s eyes widened.
“BRACE!”
A massive beam of concentrated energy erupted from the beast’s jaws, cutting straight toward the fleet!
Caelum threw his saber forward, channeling everything he had into a single defensive wall.
“IRON WALL!”
A dense barrier of Spiritual Energy materialized in front of the ships.
The energy beam struck it head-on.
Instantly, web-like cracks spread across Caelum’s barrier.
Caelum gritted his teeth, blood dripping from his nose under the intense pressure.
He was holding it, but the barrier was seconds away from shattering.
Justus took a step toward the edge.
Daemon caught his coat sleeve.
“Don’t.
You can’t take a direct hit from that.”
“He can’t hold it alone,” Justus said plainly, watching Caelum’s arms tremble.
“Justus, that thing is a calamity class!”
Justus ignored the warning, adjusting his grip on Gryphon.
He remembered a simple truth: strength wasn’t just about how hard you could strike; it was about standing your ground when everything else collapsed.
A faint smile touched Justus’s face.
Daemon saw it and groaned.
“Oh no.”
“Keep our ship steady,” Justus said.
“You’re an idiot,” Daemon grunted, but he didn’t pull back.
Instead, he slammed his boot into the deck, his skin turning a metallic iron grey as he expanded his own defensive field around their hull.
“Guess that makes two of us.”
Justus leapt off the ship.
Light gathering.
He tried to pull the Darkness with it—but the shadow vanished, leaving only a bright, flickering glow of Light around Gryphon’s edge.
Flicker.
“Not now…” Justus muttered through gritted teeth.
He threw himself directly into the path of the blue energy beam, swinging Gryphon downward with everything he had.
“Radiant—!”
BOOOOOOOOM! This chapter is updated first at g.com.
The beam swallowed him whole.
The sea erupted into a blinding white flash.
Smoke and steam billowed across the water, obscuring everything.
“JUSTUS!” Daemon bellowed, squinting through the heat waves.
For five agonizing seconds, there was silence.
Then a dark shape fell out of the smoke, crashing hard onto the wooden deck.
THUD!
Daemon sprinted over.
Justus lay there, his coat scorched, minor burns tracing his arms, but his crimson eyes were wide open as he let out a harsh cough.
“You’re actually breathing,” Daemon said, stopping in his tracks.
Justus sat up slowly, wincing as he picked up Gryphon from the boards.
“It…
usually has more force than that.”
Daemon stared at him for a long beat, then let out a rough, booming laugh.
“You almost got erased from the sea and you’re complaining about your form?!”
Caelum landed lightly on the deck nearby, his coat singed.
He looked at the scorched wood, then at Justus.
“You jumped into an Abyssal beam?”
“Felt like the fastest way to stop it,” Justus replied, pushing himself up.
Caelum stared at him, then let out a quiet, dry breath.
“Reckless idiot.”
“You’re still standing too,” Justus noted.
Caelum’s lips twitched slightly.
“I have a fleet to command.”
Before another word could be said, the ocean began to churn again.
The Abyssal Beast let out a low, mournful roar—not of anger, but of utter panic.
It dove straight back into the black depths, disappearing beneath the waves.
Daemon frowned, aiming his rifle toward the water.
“Why is it retreating?”
Caelum’s face lost all color.
“It isn’t retreating.”
Justus felt the hair on his arms stand up.
“What do you mean?”
“It was fleeing,” Caelum whispered.
“Something else was hunting it.”
Silence fell over the ocean.
The water behind the Guardian ships turned pitch black, stained by an ink-like shadow spreading from deep below.
The sea went completely, unnaturally still.
“Tell me that’s a normal Northern occurrence,” Daemon muttered, his grip tightening on his rifle stock.
“No,” Caelum said coldly, drawing his black saber back out.
Far on the fog-covered horizon, a massive black sail broke through the mist.
It wasn’t a Guardian warship, nor a standard pirate vessel.
Raised high on its mainmast was a dark, terrifying emblem: a crowned skull surrounded by four crossed blades.
Caelum’s hand visibly tightened around his hilt.
Justus noticed the Captain’s reaction.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, what are they doing here?.”
Caelum’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper.
“The Black Tide.”
The name seemed to freeze the very wind around them.