The Serpent and the Storm

Cannons thundered. The storm howled. Its fury was no longer nature's — it was alive as rain slashed across the deck.

From the waves, Scylla rose higher, its six heads thrashing against the lightning sky, eyes glowing sickly green. Each roar made the masts tremble. At its side, Serika coiled her serpent body over the waves, crimson eyes never leaving the ship, a cruel smile spread wide.

"Cannons! Fire!" Blacktide rumbled, one hand locked on the helm, the other on Kazuki's chest, water glowing desperately around the wound.

The deck burst into motion.

The Twins shot skyward, against the downpour.

"Split left!" one shouted.

"Got it!" the other replied.

They dove at Scylla's heads, ropes in their hands, looping around thrashing maws. Each time a head snapped at them, they darted away like sparks on the wind, hurling knives that glinted silver in the lightning. Sparks of magic crackled in their palms, blasts of wind force snapping against scales.

"Over here, ugly!" they taunted, drawing two of Scylla's heads away from the ship, their laughter forced but fierce.

Ardent leapt from the deck, sword gleaming in the storm light. His rope swung him toward Serika, who slithered along the ship's flank. She struck first, a harpoon whipping through the air like lightning, but Ardent cleaved it in two mid-flight, sparks bursting on impact, then vaulted into a backflip, twisting through the air. Lightning cracked as he landed—not on wood, but on water.

His boots struck the waves, yet he did not sink. Ripples spread beneath him, glowing faintly blue with every step. The sea bent to his affinity, holding him aloft.

Gorran hefted a cannonball as if it were a stone, runes of magic glowing along his arm. "Load it!" he shouted, shoving it into the cannon. The blast fired with thunderous force, the shot glowing with his magic. It smashed into Scylla's stomach, scales shattering, dark blood spraying into the sea.

More men struggled with ropes and powder, but Gorran hauled what two men could not, his arms bulging with enchanted strength. "Keep 'em coming!"

Maeryn stood at the rail, eyes blazing. Flames kindled in her palms even as rain tried to smother them. With a furious scream, she unleashed torrents of fire that cut through the storm, molten streaks colliding with Scylla's hide. Steam erupted where fire met rain, cloaking the battlefield in hissing fog.

One of Scylla's heads snapped toward her, jaws yawning wide, but she hurled a blazing orb straight down its throat. It shrieked, recoiling, smoke spilling from its jaws.

Rain hammered the sea. Steel clashed with scale. Each of his strikes rang like thunder, his sword carving arcs of light in the rain. Serika weaved around him with inhuman speed, her claws slicing, her tail whipping, each clash scattering sparks.

"You fight like a man already drowned," she hissed.

Serika lunged, coils snapping through the waves, fangs dripping venom. Ardent stood on the water's surface as if it were stone, his sword gleaming with spray.

Her words slithered through the storm.

"Why fight? You're chasing glory that isn't yours. The sea does not carry the stubborn — it swallows them."

Ardent's eyes narrowed—but his mind slipped elsewhere.

Moonlight shimmered on river stones as Ardent's sword flashed again and again. Villagers whispered in passing: "The chief's son is vain… wasting his gift… foolish boy with a stick…"

Still, he trained. Calloused hands gripping the hilt until they bled, sweat freezing on his head.

Until one day….

The tatami mats were rough beneath his knees. Ardent knelt, spine straight, hands resting on his thighs. Before him, his father loomed, voice heavy with rage.

"You want to become a swordsman?" the man spat. "What about fishing? When my father and his father before him, we all cast nets into these seas. You think I didn't have dreams of my own? I sacrificed them to uphold our family's honor, and so will you."

Ardent bowed his head, calm, unwavering.

"My affinity's special power is not meant for casting nets, Father. My power flows with the sword."

His father's face darkened. "Then use it to catch monstrous fish, boy!" He seized Ardent's collar, hauling him close. "Do you hear the village? They whisper behind your back. You shame this house. I will not allow it."

Ardent met his father's fury with a steady gaze. "Just because you sacrificed your dreams doesn't mean I will. I walk my own path father."

The grip released. His father turned away, voice cold as stone.

"Then leave. Leave this house, this family, this village. You are no son of mine."

Ardent rose after a moment of hesitation, bowed, his voice soft. "Thank you, father, for all you've given me."

And he walked out with tears in his eyes, the heavy silence clinging to his back.

Day after day. Night after night. His sword sang against water and steel alike; his movements honed into something no ridicule could break.

Serika's coils snapped forward, but Ardent was unmoved. His sword rose, water gathering along its edge, getting ready to use Tōgi.

"You talk too much."

With one step across the waves, he cut. His sword unleashed a crescent of water sharper than steel, cleaving through storm and scale.

Serika reeled, her laughter breaking into a hiss.

Gorran braced himself as one of Scylla's heads smashed into the deck, splintering wood and snatching a screaming sailor in its teeth. Fury burned in his chest.

His magic surged, glowing along his veins. He grabbed a cannon with both hands—lifting it as if it were no heavier than a spear. With a roar, he braced it against his hip and lit the fuse with his bare hand.

BOOM!

The cannon fired point-blank, its recoil shaking his massive frame, each blast hammering into Scylla's hide. Splinters of scale and sprays of ichor rained into the sea.

The crew froze for half a breath, staring in disbelief.

Alvis stood at the center of the chaos, his hands weaving patterns of light. Arcane chains shot from his palms, snaring one of Scylla's heads mid-lunge, wrenching it aside before it could crash into the hull. His voice cut through the storm, sharp and commanding: "Strike now!"

Maeryn's fire and the twins' wind slash hit the bound head at once, the combined assault tearing scales free.

Zephyr knelt on the deck, cradling Kazuki against her chest. Her hands glowed faintly as she pressed them over his, lending her strength to Blacktide's healing. Tears mixed with rain on her face. His blood seeped through her fingers no matter how tightly she pressed. His breaths came shallow, each weaker than the last.

She kissed Kazuki's forehead, whispering into his ear:

"Stay with me, Kazuki… please."

Kazuki's eyes fluttered, half-lidded. His lips parted—trying to speak, failing.

Then his head fell back in Zephyr's arms, blood trailing from his lips. The glow around Blacktide's hands faltered. His voice broke, horrified:

"His heart—his heart has stopped…"

Zephyr's hands clutched his face. Her tears mingled with the storm.

"No… No! Look at me, Kazuki. Do you hear me? You can't leave me. Not now!"

Kazuki opened his eyes. The storm was gone.

He stood in an endless expanse of white. Silence wrapped him—soft, warm, familiar. It was the same warmth he had felt when gazing into the Basin, when he saw visions of his home.

"Where… am I?" His voice echoed softly.

The silence did not last. From nowhere and everywhere at once, a voice whispered:

"Welcome, Kazuki Hasunuma of Earth. This is the Well of Souls."

A pause, heavy as eternity.

"You have crossed the threshold. You are dead."