[Current Balance: 1,494,706,244R]
---Previously---
"You two!" he barked. "You know how to handle yourselves in a fight?"
Alaric and Reuben exchanged a quick glance. A matching smirk appeared on both their faces as they turned back to the captain and gave a confident nod.
'Finally,' Alaric thought, a thrill running through him as he watched the approaching ships with his hands relaxing in his pockets. 'A naval battle.'
---
The air was crackling with tension.
Oldgate's galleon was sturdy but was also outnumbered. The ship turned slightly to present its broadside to the nearest attackers, the two swift brigantines attempting to flank them.
"FIRE!" Oldgate bellowed.
A deafening roar split the air as the galleon's cannons unleashed their first volley. Clouds of thick, acrid smoke momentarily obscured the view.
The heavy iron balls of round shot smashed into the lead brigantine's hull near the waterline, sending huge splinters flying. Simultaneously, the cannons loaded with grapeshot sprayed clouds of smaller projectiles across the deck of the second brigantine, cutting down pirates before they could even think of boarding.
Screams carried faintly across the water as this was all happening.
The pirate ships returned fire almost immediately as cannonballs whistled overhead. One slammed into the galleon's main mast with a sickening crunch, but the thick wood held. Another skipped across the deck, narrowly missing a group of sailors. Chain shot whizzed through the air, tearing canvas and snapping lines.
The helmsman beside Oldgate cried out, clutching his chest as a large wooden splinter, sent flying by a near miss, impaled him. He slumped over the wheel, lifeless.
"Damn it!" Oldgate cursed, shoving the dead man aside without ceremony and seizing the large wheel himself.
His massive frame easily controlled the heavy galleon as he barked orders, "Keep firing! Target those brigantines! Sink the bastards!"
The cannon crews worked frantically, swabbing barrels, loading powder and shot, aiming and firing rhythmically. The galleon shuddered with each broadside it unleashed.
The first brigantine, already on its last line from the initial hits, took another direct hit to its hull. Water poured into the breach. With a final groan of tortured timber, its bow dipped beneath the waves, and it began to sink rapidly, pirates scrambling into the churning water.
The second brigantine, with its deck slick with blood from the grapeshot, tried to turn away, but the galleon's gunners were relentless.
A well-aimed round shot shattered its rudder. Another smashed into its powder magazine. A blinding flash, followed by a thunderous explosion, ripped the smaller ship apart, sending debris and bodies high into the air.
Two down. Two frigates remained, closing in steadily.
"They're plenty, but we've got this!" Oldgate roared, spinning the wheel hard. "Prepare to ram! Brace yourselves!"
He aimed the galleon's reinforced bow directly at the closest frigate. The pirate ship, surprised by the aggressive maneuver from the galleon, tried to turn, but it was too late.
*BUSHSHSKSHKSHKSKK*(I don't know what this is anymore, wtf)
With a tremendous CRUNCH of splintering wood and groaning timbers, the galleon plowed into the frigate's side.
The impact threw men on both decks off their feet. Grappling hooks flew through the air, biting into railings and rigging, locking the two ships together in a deadly embrace.
"BOARDERS AWAY!" bellowed one of Oldgate's officers.
Oldgate couldn't leave the helm, not yet. He snarled, seeing pirates on the frigate preparing to repel the boarders.
Spotting a loaded swivel gun nearby on the galleon's railing, he abandoned the wheel for a moment, swung the small cannon towards the frigate's crowded deck, and fired. The blast of shot cleared a space near the railing, momentarily stunning the defenders.
"Go! Give 'em hell!" he yelled as his own crew surged across the gap.
Alaric watched the chaos unfold calmly while his hands remained in his pockets. Reuben stood beside him, eyes gleaming with such fierce Alaric hadn't seen before. They looked at each other as a silent understanding passed between them.
Reuben grinned, and without a word, he took a running start, sprinted across the galleon's deck, and launched himself over the railing.
He landed with a bang on the frigate's deck amidst the surprised pirates, right where Oldgate's swivel gun had cleared a path, the Sword of Damokles already humming and vibrating in excitement in his right hand, while there was also a sturdy dagger gripped firmly in his left.
Then, the massacre began.
Alaric watched, momentarily comparing the scene to the sanitized battles of the Assassin's Creed: Black Flag simulation he'd experienced.
'In the game, there were maybe a dozen or so enemies on a ship this size,' he thought, observing the sheer density of pirates swarming the frigate's deck. 'Reality is... messier. And far more crowded.'
He also noted the faint golden glow around Reuben's sword and the almost unnatural fluidity of his friend's movements. 'That sword... it feels alive. Is it guiding him? I should probably check on him after... he ain't a hybrid like Kassandra and Alexios.'
(Note: In the lore, all humans have neurotransmitters that makes them highly susceptable from the pieces of Eden. This was also the sword of Deimos.)
Reuben moved like a whirlwind was possessing him.
'This strength...' he thought, even as his body reacted faster than conscious thought, 'It's incredible... but it feels like... like something else is moving my arms! Guiding the blades...'
The sensation was exhilarating but deeply unsettling, a frantic energy thrumming beneath his skin, threatening to overwhelm him. The Sword of Damokles felt less like a tool and more like a partner, whispering lethal suggestions directly into his muscles.
He wasn't wasting energy on flashy moves or prolonged duels. His movements were brutally efficient, guided by the sword's lethal instinct and amplified by the strength pouring into him.
A pirate lunged with a cutlass; Reuben's sword flashed, a golden arc that deflected the blow while his dagger simultaneously plunged into the man's exposed side, hitting a vital area. The pirate gasped and fell.
Another came from the side; Reuben spun, the sword cleaving through the man's defense, followed by a precise dagger thrust to the throat.
He flowed through the throng like a blur as he seemed to look like death.
The sword parried, slashed, and pierced, seemingly knowing exactly where an opening would appear, while the dagger finished the job with swift, precise stabs to vulnerable points... neck, under the arm, between ribs.
He didn't need to think; the sword anticipated, and his body, being empowered and guided, followed through.
Pirates fell around him, often cut down before they could mount a proper defense, their surprise turning to terror as the quiet Englishman transformed into a whirlwind of death.
'That's it, baldie...' Alaric, who was just spectating from the Galleon smirked at Reuben's performance.
He wasn't just fighting. He was executing, dismantling the enemy one precise strike at a time, turning the crowded deck into his own deadly playground.
He was a force of nature, quick, lethal, and utterly focused, driven by a power that felt both magnificent and terrifyingly alien.
Oldgate watched Reuben carve through the pirates on the frigate's deck, his eyes wide with disbelief at the sheer speed and lethality.
A wide, predatory grin spread across his face. "GURARARARA! That boy's a demon! We've got this!"
Alaric, standing near the galleon's railing, saw the captain's premature celebration.
"What're you grinning for?" he called out sharply, nodding towards the opposite side of their ship. "Look at the other side, whitebeard!"
Oldgate raised a thick eyebrow, momentarily annoyed at the nickname.
"Whitebeard?" he muttered, unconsciously touching his admittedly graying beard.
He then followed Alaric's gaze to the starboard side. His eyes widened again, this time in alarm.
The second frigate, having circled around while they were focused on ramming the first, was rapidly closing the distance, grappling hooks already being swung, preparing to board their ship.
"Damn!" Oldgate cursed, spinning back to the wheel, his brief moment of confidence evaporating. They were caught between two fires.
Alaric just smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Heh... I guess it's my time to shine..."
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