“Back when Gangplank was in charge, he could always hold off the army of the dead, but I don’t have much faith in that little girl. She’s still too young.”
The tavern owner took a swig of hard liquor and narrowed his eyes as he gazed through the window toward the distant docks.
They were far from the coast, yet an uneasy feeling still gnawed at him.
Thunder boomed as a storm approached.
Billowing Black Mist surged toward Bilgewater, and not a single person could be seen on the deserted streets.
Terrified, people hid inside their homes, thick wooden planks nailed firmly over their doors and windows.
Even so, fear continued eating away at their already fragile nerves.
They prayed to the sea gods, begging to survive the Harrowing with their lives intact.
“How does it look?” Miss Fortune gripped her weapon tightly, staring tensely at the Black Mist surging in from the sea.
This was her first time facing the murderous spirits of the dead, and she was more nervous than anyone.
Still, she did everything she could to remain calm, refusing to let the men around her sense her unease.
“This blade has been with me through six Harrowings. I’ve cut down more undead with it than you’ve ever kicked rats.”
Beside Sarah, her first mate, Rafen, stroked his long blade.
Yet the deep furrow in his brow showed that he was nowhere near as calm as his words suggested.
The death lurking within the Black Mist terrified him more than any sea monster he had ever encountered.
Sarah led her men down from the cliffs and into the streets of Bilgewater, arriving at Cutpurse Square, a bustling marketplace beloved by merchants and sailors on ordinary days.
The square could be clearly seen from almost anywhere in Bilgewater, which was exactly what Sarah wanted.
Here, she intended to prove that even without Gangplank, she was still capable of protecting this city.
Gale-force winds carried the Black Mist forward.
Something twisted and writhed inside it, then a wraith with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth burst from the darkness, releasing a hoarse shriek.
Sarah answered with a bullet.
The shot entered through the creature’s hollow eye socket.
It let out one final unwilling howl before its spectral form dissolved.
With that first gunshot, the Black Mist seemed to explode.
Swarms of wraiths lunged forward, and Sarah’s men unleashed a hail of bullets.
Miss Fortune twisted aside, narrowly avoiding a razor-sharp claw, then immediately returned fire.
A bullet struck the wraith square in the face and dispersed it.
At the same instant, she spun around sharply and fired again, destroying another spirit charging toward her.
Sarah ducked behind a stone statue and quickly reloaded.
The statue depicted the River King, his enormous mouth open wide, tongue hanging out as he grinned wickedly.
She glanced at the statue’s sinister smile, tightened her grip on her pistol, and muttered, “Can you really trust a god at a time like this? This is the only thing I trust.”
Her weapon roared again, scattering several spirits within the mist.
One of her pistols suddenly jammed with a sharp click.
Sarah’s expression immediately darkened as she remembered the warning her mother had once given her.
She shoved the useless pistol back into its holster, drew her sword, and brought it down on a hard skull.
The spectral head shattered instantly.
The sword was a trophy she had taken from a captain who had been sailing north toward Shurima at the time.
Its craftsmanship was exquisite.
Miss Fortune fired rapidly with one pistol while slashing apart any spirits that came close with her sword.
The undead had no flesh, yet every time the blade struck them, she could clearly feel that she had hit something tangible.
The Black Mist swept forward with the dead in its wake, quickly claiming several lives.
When hardened claws tore hearts directly from men’s chests, their souls were ripped away with them.
Those souls were immediately swallowed by the Black Mist.
Corrupted by its influence, the dead soon rose again.
Now members of the undead horde themselves, they charged toward the very friends and brothers beside whom they had once fought.
Any living creature that died within the Black Mist during the Harrowing would become a permanent part of it.
All emotion would vanish, leaving behind nothing but the urge to kill.
Miss Fortune and her men fought without fear of death.
They shouted the name of the Bearded Lady, their mothers, or their lovers, then met the undead in a desperate battle with swords and pistols in hand.
Rafen dropped to one knee, gasping heavily for breath.
The prolonged battle had left him more physically and mentally exhausted than an entire day of hard labor at the docks.
Sarah cut down an undead creature behind him and shouted, “Get up! We’re not finished yet!”
“I told you, I’ve lived through more Harrowings than you’ve kicked rats to death.”
Rafen fired past Sarah, blasting apart a spirit behind her.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself back onto his feet.
Sweat had already soaked through every inch of his clothes.
A deafening explosion rang out.
A bomb thrown by one of Sarah’s men blasted a hole through the Black Mist, and the shockwave knocked Sarah to the ground.
By the time she climbed back to her feet, however, the Black Mist had already flowed together again.
One wraith after another took shape within it and charged out once more.
“Dead men really are harder to deal with than living ones.”
Sarah gave a bitter laugh, suppressing the fear in her heart as she wiped the dirt from her face.
She had once naively believed that their guns, cannons, and faith would be enough to stop the undead army.
She wanted to prove to the people of Bilgewater that Gangplank’s rule was no longer necessary, that she could protect the city just as well without him.
But she had clearly been far too naive.
Gangplank was a cunning old bastard who had ruled Bilgewater for years.
There was no way a man like him could ever have been ordinary.
Sarah’s underestimation of her enemy, or perhaps her own blind confidence, might end up destroying both Bilgewater and herself.
A tremendous horn sounded.
The accompanying thunder grew louder and closer, each booming impact resembling the iron-shod hooves of an army trampling through the shattered harbor.
No.
Rather than thunder, those truly were deafening hoofbeats.
A figure resembling a mounted knight gradually emerged from the Black Mist.
“An undead knight?” Sarah asked.
“No. The Shadow of War, Hecarim.”
Rafen’s voice was nearly drowned in despair.
He had witnessed Hecarim’s enormous blade and iron hooves tearing through men like a meat grinder.
The memory of that terror could still make him wake shivering with cold even on the hottest summer night.
“Then I’ll go kill that bastard!” Sarah shouted, determination burning in her eyes.
Rafen immediately grabbed her arm and gave her an incredulous look.
“Kill the Shadow of War? You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t throw your life away.”
Sarah was just about to argue when a figure suddenly descended from above.
He spun through the air, radiant light instantly illuminating the entire square.
In his hands were a pair of relic-stone pistols, and wherever their sacred light swept, the undead wailed before dissolving into nothingness.
A huge portion of the undead and Black Mist was wiped away, finally giving everyone a moment to breathe.
Sarah exclaimed excitedly, “It’s you!”
Lucian took Miss Fortune’s outstretched hand and somewhat stiffly introduced himself.
“Hello. I’m Lucian.”
After spending so many years dealing with ghosts and monsters, ordinary conversation with other people had actually become unfamiliar to him.
“And me. I’m Levi.”
Levi had only just caught up.
Damn it, Lucian stole the whole damn show.
I’m the transmigrator here.
I’m supposed to be the protagonist.
Levi stepped forward and took Sarah’s hand as well.
Her hand felt soft in his, and an instant later, the name of a new ability rang through his mind.
Bullet Time.
Sarah regarded Levi with amused interest.
Levi’s face reddened, and he hurriedly released her hand.
He had to admit that grabbing it like that had been a little too forward.
Watching Levi pull his hand away as though he had been shocked, Sarah’s lips curved into a faint smile.
“I didn’t expect you two to actually come. Thank you for showing up to help when we needed it most.”