Chapter 42 – The Battle of Isle De la Mansa

The sea is restless.

Two fleets face each other across the mist, black sails stretched tight against the wind.

On one side—The Stroud, led by Eira.
Beside it, The Scourge, Nu Wa’s infamous flagship, its blackwood hull scarred from centuries of battle.
And with them, twenty more ships bristling with cannons, banners snapping in defiance.

On the other—the Silver Fangs. Their sails shine with fresh blood-red paint, their fleet stretching across the horizon like a wall of steel and teeth.

The air is thick, not with cannon smoke, but silence.

On deck, Elowen grips the railing, eyes darting nervously.
“Is this… really how battles start?”

Eira throws back her head and laughs, teeth flashing.
“Nay, lass! We pirates know better than to waste powder too soon. First come the words, then the cannons! That’s the code o’ the sea!”

Elowen frowns. “So it’s… negotiations first?”

“Aye! Terms be set, fates be sealed. Winner takes spoils, loser scrubs decks… or walks the plank if they’re unlucky! That’s how we do it!”

Korvus steps up, adjusting his hat.
“Shall I fetch Arin, then?”

Eira snorts. “Bah, no need. We can handle this just fine. Arin would just drink all the rum before the parley’s done.”

“Lady Nu Wa’s got a gleam in her eye,” Korvus mutters, almost to himself. “She’s itching for a show. Be it a duel, or a treasure hunt… or both.”

Across the ships, a longboat lowers.
Nu Wa steps into it, calm as the tide. She looks to her side.

“Luna, ye care to set sail with me?”

“Yes, Lady Nu Wa.”
Luna leaps down lightly, following her into the small boat.

Together, they row across the no-man’s-sea between fleets.

The opposing longboat drifts closer, two figures standing proudly at its bow.
A man in a cobalt coat, sword gleaming at his hip.
A woman in crimson, her eyes sharp and burning.

The twins.

Nu Wa stops her oars, standing tall with Luna behind her.
The twins stand as well, balance steady despite the waves.

The man bows mockingly.
“I be Riven Fangfire, and this be me sister Ravenna. We be the new cap'n's o' the Silver Fang clan, takin' the reins after our uncle Grimgold Ironfang met his maker.”

His eyes narrow like blades.
“What be yer tale about Grimgold Ironfang's final days? Did he indeed meet Davy Jones at yer doorstep? Spill the grog, Pirate King – we be listenin'!”

Nu Wa’s lips curl into a faint smile.
“Aye, that be tellin'! Ye be implyin' Grimgold's gone to feed the fishes, matey! The sea's vast, but its whispers be loud – and ye be sayin' ye no longer scent the Ironfang's presence. That be a tale worth ponderin'...”

Ravenna bares her teeth. “those be Grimgold's own words: 'Ye be a thorn in me side, a blade at me throat!”

“"Aye, mayhap ye be wonderin' what be next, matey?,” Nu Wa answers coolly, “he finally learned the lesson too late.”

Both twins draw their swords in unison, steel singing.
“Ye be wantin' to put me words to the test?”

Nu Wa only sighs. Slowly, she pulls a dagger from her hip, blade barely longer than her forearm.

Luna blinks. “A dagger?”

Riven scoffs. “Arrgh, ye be mockin' us? Ye be thinkin' a wee trinket like that be a match fer the Fangfire's steel? We'll have ye keelhauled and cursed, ye scurvy dog!”

Nu Wa tilts her head, eyes glinting like moonlight on the sea.
“Arrgh, cannon shot be expensive, matey – but a well-placed dagger in the dark be free”

“You’ll regret that!” Riven lunges, blade flashing.

Clang!

The strike stops dead. Riven stares in disbelief—Nu Wa’s tiny dagger holds his longsword at the tip, unshaken.

“What—?!”

Ravenna darts in, her blade arcing.
“Our uncle feared you for good reason… but tonight, your legend dies!”

Nu Wa exhales softly.
Her dagger twists, releasing a gust of pressure that sends both twins skidding back across the rocking boat.

Luna’s eyes widen. That wasn’t magic… pure strength?

On the Stroud, Harmonia leans over the railing, humming.
“…She moves like a song.”

Seraphina smirks. “That’s swordsmanship. Sharp, clean, deadly. I want to spar her one day.”

Eira folds her arms, grinning like a wolf.
“Heh! Don’t let that dagger fool ye. Granny’s no maiden in distress. Back in her prime, she was feared across the seas. ‘The Cutlass King,’ they called her. Enemy fleets trembled when she drew steel.”

Seraphina’s eyes glint. “Then perhaps… one day.”

“Oi,” Eira elbows her. “If ye want to cross blades with Granny, best write yer will first.”

Back on the longboats, the duel continues.
Riven and Ravenna slash in tandem, blades a storm of steel. But Nu Wa dances between them, dagger flashing like starlight.

Her movements are effortless, almost playful—parrying, deflecting, never striking to kill.

Luna watches, entranced. She’s… negotiating. Each strike, each parry—it’s not fighting. It’s speaking with steel.

Nu Wa’s blade arcs, pushing them back again.
Her smile is calm.
“Come now, little birds. Show me what your fangs are worth.”

And across the waves, both fleets wait.
Cannons primed, sails taut, but unmoving.
The battle hangs in the balance of a single dagger.

The sea itself holds its breath.
Two fleets—twenty ships to a side—watch in frozen silence as three figures clash atop a swaying longboat.

Steel sings, waves crash.

Riven and Ravenna’s twin blades dance like lightning, cutting the air with merciless precision. Yet not once do they draw blood.

Because Nu Wa stands there, dagger in hand, smiling.
Unmoving. Unyielding. Untouchable.

“Arrgh… she be a sea goddess in her own right, matey!” Riven pants, sweat glistening down his jaw.

“Not a scurvy imitation, brother!” Ravenna snarls. “She’s the real deal…”

Nu Wa yawns, twirling her dagger lazily.
“Well then? Are ye fightin’ or flirtin’? Granny hasn’t got all day, matey.”

The twins grit their teeth. In perfect sync, they launch forward—two blades, one strike.

BOOM!

The sea roars as their swords meet her dagger. A shockwave ripples across the water, rocking the longboat violently.

And yet—Nu Wa stands tall.
Her dagger catches both swords at their tips, her feet rooted like bedrock.

Her eyes glint with dangerous amusement.
“Arrgh, ye be wonderin’… what lies behind me stare?”

The twins glance at each other, then lower their blades.
“We came… to parley.”

The fleets murmur. Parley? Now?

Nu Wa tilts her head. “Is that so, matey?”

Riven nods. “Aye. We’ve no love for the old guard. The Silver Fang needs new leadership. With yer might, Pirate King, we could unite the seas.”

Ravenna adds, “Together, we’ll bury the traitors who sold their souls to demons.”

Nu Wa’s smile sharpens. “Is that so…?”

In a flash, she leaps—faster than the eye can follow. She lands on the Silver Fang flagship.

Her dagger arcs once.
Slash!

A pirate screams, body twisting, skin shattering into shadow—revealing the face of a dark elf.

Gasps echo across the deck.

Nu Wa raises her blade, pointing to another crewman.
“Ye there. Show yer true skin.”

The man sneers. His body ripples, flesh melting into twisted horns and grey skin.
“The Cutlass King…” the demon hisses. “We expected the battlemaster… but instead we face you.”

He draws his blade—only for Nu Wa to cut him in half in a single flick.

“Get lost.”

The demon’s corpse hits the deck with a wet thud. The others scatter, shadows dispersing into the waves.

Nu Wa throws her head back, shouting loud enough for both fleets to hear:
“PREPARE FOR BATTLE! READY THE CANNONS!”

Eira spins around, barking orders. “Load the powder! Aim broadside!”

But before a cannon can fire—

KABOOM!!!

An explosion erupts between the fleets, sending splinters into the sky.

Smoke clears… revealing an armada of black-iron warships rising from the sea itself. Ships unlike any other—bristling with crimson runes, sails stitched from shadow.

Luna’s eyes widen. This mana…!

“Faic an fhìrinn, nocht an fhírinne, datguddiwch y gwirionedd!”

She spins her rapier like a wand, runes glowing along its blade. The truth of the attack reveals itself—the Western Demon Kingdom.

Eira’s face hardens.
“By the seven seas… demons. To arms!”

The ocean boils.

Demonic soldiers surge from the waters, claws dripping salt and blood. From above, massive airships descend, their cannons glowing with eerie green light.

The sea battle explodes into chaos.

Luna leaps across the water’s surface, rapier flashing. Her chants whip the wind into blades.
“Rhyddhau storm, leig às a' ghaoith!”

WHOOOOOSH!!!

The winds howl, tearing sails and scattering demon gliders in the sky.

Seraphina spins her spear, carving through a dozen demons with a single sweeping arc.
“Hah! Come, monsters! Test the bite of my spear!”

Elowen curses under her breath, grabbing her hammer.
“Tch… no material, no golems. Guess I’ll just smash you to bits myself!”

She leaps into the fray, her strikes ringing like thunder on steel.

Harmonia springs high onto the mast, hand raised.
“Seraphina! Just like we trained!”

“Aye!” Seraphina twirls, thrusting her spear forward. Harmonia chants in harmony, her magic amplifying the strike.

The spear blazes with light—piercing a demon straight through its chest, the explosion rocking the mast.

Above them, a massive airship emerges, looming like a stormcloud. Its runes flare—ready to fire.

The Blackwood and Stroud fleets are surrounded.
Demons pour from sea and sky alike.

The forge roars no more.
Only the smell of smoke, steel, and gunpowder lingers as Randy grips the weapon in his hands.

The gunblade gleams in the dim light, its barrel fused seamlessly into the shortened cutlass.
“…Lighter. Balanced. Perfect.” I mutter, testing the weight with a quick spin.

Roderick wipes his soot-stained brow and smirks, pride glowing in his eyes.
“Aye… me finest work yet. May this blade bring ye fortune, boy.”

“Thanks.” I give him a nod.

We step outside. Arin is snoring on a barrel, half-empty grog dangling in his hand.

“Oi! Lazy dog!” Roderick kicks him.

“GAH—! I awake! I awake, matey!” Arin stumbles to his feet, bleary-eyed.

But then—
BOOM!

The ground trembles. Smoke curls into the sky. Screams ring out from the port.

“What the hell—!?” Arin bolts upright. “What’s happenin’, matey!?”

“DEMONS!! We’re under attack!!” a pirate yells, running past.

Another blast tears through the streets—
part of Roderick’s forge collapses in flames.

“Me shop!!” Roderick roars, face twisted in rage.

“Dammit!” I grit my teeth and sprint. “Come on! We’re not fighting here—we need higher ground!”

“Oi! Where ye goin’, boy!?” Arin calls.

“My ship! Follow me!”

“Ship!? Waters be that way, not the blasted hills!!” Arin shouts, pointing the other way.

“Trust me!!” I bark back.

Roderick curses but follows. “Fine! But ye owe me fer me forge!”

Atop the hills, the world opens up.
The entire sea burns below us—ships colliding, cannons roaring, demons raining from the skies.

“By the depths…” Arin whispers. “Them flyin’ contraptions…!”

“Airships,” I mutter. My eyes narrow. “We’re outgunned.”

I whistle sharply.
The earth rumbles—then splits open.

A massive iron door groans as it unfolds, glowing with faint runes.

“W-what contraption is this!?” Roderick stares in disbelief.

I smirk. “My Skybreaker.”

The chamber opens. Inside, the mechanical heart of my creation hums to life. Golems stir, runes pulse, turrets click into position.

“Come on!” I leap inside.

Arin blinks, then grins like a child. “Hah! A hidden fortress! Now this be pirate’s treasure!”

The three of us rush to the bridge.

“Sky Golem, activate! Set turrets—lock on enemy airships!”

The Skybreaker shudders. The ground splits as the massive vessel rises, wings unfolding, engines roaring.

The skies scream as the Skybreaker takes flight.

Ten demon airships loom overhead.
Eira and Nu Wa’s fleet is locked in desperate combat.

Then—
KABOOOOOM!!!

One demon airship explodes in flames.

“What happened to the Junkas!?” a demon goblin shrieks.

Elowen’s eyes widen. “No way…”

“It’s Randy!!!” Harmonia cries out.

The clouds split. Cannon fire rains down like a storm, shredding through demon wings and sails.

The Skybreaker emerges—larger than any vessel in the skies, casting its shadow across the battlefield.

Arin and Roderick gape from the deck.

“Boy… this ain’t what I expected,” Roderick mutters.

“So this is how ye crossed the Wall…” Arin breathes.

“Yep,” I grin, strapping on my flight suit. “Now let’s hit them hard.”

“Aye! Need a hand?” Arin grins, sliding to the helm.

“Take the wheel!” I shout.

“Aye aye!”

“Roderick—turrets! Aim for the flyers!”

“Aye, lad!” Roderick roars, already turning the massive cannon.

Demonic wings flood the skies, surrounding us. But the Skybreaker’s turrets roar back, tearing them from the clouds.

Arin’s eyes sharpen. “That one—yellow stripe! That be the flagship… I’ll never forget it. Me brothers died to that ship.”

I nod. “Then it’s mine.”

I leap. The wings of my suit snap open. The sky explodes around me as flak bursts like fireworks.

Bullets graze. Fireballs roar.

I weave through the storm.

“One thing’s certain about airships…” I mutter, eyes locking onto the mirrored control glass.

BLAM!

The shot cracks the mirror. The helm jerks violently. I crash through the deck, gunblade flashing.

Demons scream. I spin once, blade and barrel as one—
Bang! Slash!

A captain’s head bursts. Another demon falls in two.

“The captain is down!”

I plant a bomb on the console, dive through the flames, wings snapping open.

BOOOOM!!!!

The flagship erupts, fire devouring its sails. The formation crumbles. Demon flyers scatter without command.

Below, Luna is fighting, rapier dancing like wind. But a ring of demons closes around her.

Her breath hitches. Tch… too many!

Then—
FWOOOSH!!!

I land beside her, wings slicing the circle apart in one sweep.

“Randy!!” she gasps.

“About time, huh?” I grin, pulling her arm and spinning.

“Demons…” she whispers.

“Demons,” I nod.

Together, we move as one. She slashes, I shoot. I slash, she parries.
Steel and gunfire sing in harmony.

Nu Wa and Eira watch from afar.

“…Those two.” Eira whispers.

Nu Wa smiles faintly, her dagger dripping blood.
“Aye. Like Lilith and Drake once were.”

Eira’s hands tighten on her cutlass. “Then what destiny… have I stumbled into?”

Nu Wa’s gaze lingers on us. “…A storm worth sailin’ into.”

The skies burn red. Cannon smoke and sulfur taste like iron on my tongue. Below, the Scourge — Nu Wa’s flagship — pitches and groans as smaller ships burst into fire like flowers of steel.

I tuck Luna tighter against me. Her heartbeat is a fast, steady drum at my ribs. We drop like a knife into the chaos.

“Where to?” I ask, adrenaline making my words blunt and careful.

“That ship!” Luna points. The Oktara hangs in the air like a dark mountain of iron — all rivets, plates, and a maw of an engine that breathes black flame. Nu Wa’s cannons have tried and failed against it. The metal doesn’t dent. It eats canonballs for breakfast.

“Leave it to me,” I say, and I mean it.

I land on the Scourge’s deck in a storm of splinters and battle cries. Nu Wa is there, blade in hand, eyes like a pair of lighthouses—dangerous, amused. She gives me that small, testing look that always feels like a verdict.

“So? How fares the boy’s fortune?” she says with a grin that smells of salt and old songs.

I heft the gunblade. The thing feels like an extension of my forearm now — heavy where it needs heft, balanced where the blade must sing. Roderick’s work glints where the flintlock chambers fold into the shortened cutlass. I smile without meaning to.

“It’s completed,” I answer. “Roderick did a good job. But it still needs work. For now — it will do.”

Nu Wa chuckles and turns her head to watch the horizon where the Oktara broods. “Good. We’ll see what fortune says.”

A demon airship screams overhead and a volley of winged fiends dive at the deck. I don’t wait for a plan I don’t have time for. I launch.

“Come on! I need you with me!” I shout back to Luna, who is already twisting free, rapier bright.

“Huh? Wait—plan—” she protests, but her eyes are sharp and laughing at the same time.

“Blow that ship apart!!” I reply, because subtlety is a luxury we don’t have.

We hurtle through flak and magic. My drones peel away, a spider-swarm of humming steel, and split into formation. They peel along the Oktara, probing for seams and lighting small charges under the hull plates. The drones ping and their tiny explosives bloom like starlight — nothing catastrophic, just enough to make the demon crew look up and worry.

“Hold me,” Luna says suddenly, voice intimate over the thunder.

I catch her instincts before she can second-guess. I pull her close across my chest — not a calculated hold, just reflex — and for a sliver of a heartbeat the world narrows to the warmth of her, the sharp scent of rain on hot metal. Her arms tighten around my neck. Her breath tickles my ear and for one ridiculous, dangerous second the Oktara is a blur and the only thing that exists is the two of us suspended in a red sky.

Then Luna chants. Her words are Gaelic thunder; the sound folds the air. “Faoi na spéireacha, leig às a’ bhreith, rhyddhawch y farn!” She lets the phrase anchor and the clouds answer.

Lightning congeals along her rapier like weaponized moonlight. Wind gathers into knives and the sky answers her song with a blast — thunder buckets the deck of the Oktara, arcs of lightning biting through its plating and setting strange runes glowing. The demon crew scatters, momentarily stunned, lines broken.

“Nice trick,” I grin. “Now move!”

She bats me on the shoulder — savage, affectionate. “Don’t get cocky.”

We drop onto the enemy deck together like a two-person hurricane. Luna’s rapier sketches poetry in the air; I move with mechanical precision, gunblade singing: a staccato of shots that rip cloth and a sweep of cold thin steel that halves plates and men with the same practiced motion. I flick the flintlocks — two sharp cracks — then slide the blade to finish blunt work when the shot doesn’t take.

The drones scream down corridors, illuminating the metal belly with cold, white LEDs. I duck fire; a spark melts my visor. I taste ozone. The engine room door yawns open ahead like a demon’s throat.

“That’s my target,” I grunt. “I’ll handle the engines — keep them pinned!”

Luna’s eyes are alley-lights. “Go. I’ll hold them here.” Her voice is fierce and steady. She almost smiles. She knows I do this sort of crazy alone, then drags her own madness right beside mine.

I slide through the hatch and the world becomes heat and steam. The engine room is monstrous: arced coils like ribs, a furnace like a living heart. The Oktara’s machine hums with a hive-magic I don’t fully understand. Golems — corroded clockwork horrors— lurch in from the vents, eyes like coals.

I cusp the gunblade with both hands, switch to firearm mode, and let a short burst riddle metal into embers. Each shot sings, the heavy caliber meant for shipboard demolition. It tears gears; cogs shower sparks. The gunblade is a sweet terror in close quarters: a pistol’s bark, a cutlass’s kiss — and I use both.

One golem lurches, jaw open, then explodes into a cascade of gears. Fire eats at the hull. The engine stutters — then roars back as if offended. The hum crescendos to an unbearable pitch. I plant a timed charge on the main manifold, fingers moving like a clockmaker; the detonator’s countdown tattoos the back of my mind.

From above, Luna’s voice threads down — a chant, an anchor, a shield. The drones keep the demons busy in a wired ballet. I pull the last connection, step back, and set the timer.

Two minutes.

I want to hammer the timer to zero, walk away in daredevil swagger, and let the world explode in cinematic triumph. But I’m not a movie hero. I’m a kid who’s only lately learned to carry more than a backpack. Still — I lean against a pipe, breathe, and let my chest stop galloping for half a beat.

The hatch bursts. A dark elf in storm-scarred armor slips in — a commander, smell of iron and something like rot and old roses. He balks at the charge but recovers fast. He’s fast. He’s got that practiced, clinical hate in his eyes that never stops being dangerous.

“You bastard,” he growls. Sword flashes. The first strike grazes my shoulder; I taste copper. He fights like a thing with too much practice and not enough mercy. He wants a kill more than he wants to talk.

But I have a trick left — the drone cluster forms and spits out a burst of concussive shrapnel. He staggers. I pivot, the gunblade thunks into blade mode, and the world narrows again to edge, to pressure underfoot, to the cry of steel on steel.

We trade blows. Sparks bloom like small suns. He presses; he’s trying to rear me into the manifold. If he pins me and the charge goes off, the Oktara might eat itself, engines rupturing into a star. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let the island be vaporized.

Time thins.

I bait a step, let his momentum pass, and—there’s a weak point in his guard. I take it. A clean slice. Stainless and Oath against one another. He gasps and drops, sword clattering. For a suspended heartbeat, it’s quiet. My chest slams like a drum.

Then the timer hits ten—nine—eight—

I run.

I hit the detonator pad, punch the override to ensure the charge blows outward and not back inward, and shove the manifold outward so the rupture tears through the hull seam and the engine eats sky instead of us. The detonator’s panic light flashes: 1— I throw my weight into the engine’s maintenance hatch as the charge goes off behind me.

A voice — Luna’s chant — lifts and shreds the sound of the blast. The charge detonates, and the engine convulses. Heat surges like a living thing. I roll clear. The hull groans. Pressure bellows out in a throat of steam and screaming metal.

Outside, the Oktara tilts, then lists hard. The demon flyers lose formation. Cables snap. The flagship keels like a wounded beast. I use the blast like a slingshot and ride the updraft out of the collapsing engine room.

I burst onto the deck where Luna stands, rapier humming, hair stuck to her forehead by sweat. She grins like a lunatic, the best kind. Her blade is red with demon blood. Around us, the demon ranks fray — the flagship convulses, smoke belching like a broken god.

“Nice timing,” she says, voice raw with holy, terrible laughter.

“You kept them busy,” I pant. “I wouldn’t want anyone else at my back.”

Her grin softens in the stormlight. “You’re an idiot.”

“Guilty as charged.” I duck my head in a quick, stupid salute.

She hits my shoulder. It’s a hit that says everything else: relief, pride, something like warmth that insists on meaning more. The world roars and for a blink, it’s just us — blood, salt, and the hum of an engine dying.

The Oktara collapses into the sea with a sound like the ending of an epic song. Fire blooms along its spine. Demon flyers scatter like torn clothing.

The deck of the Scourge shakes under the weight of battle. Cannons roar in the distance, fire and ash swallowing the horizon. Amidst the chaos, Seraphina and Eira hold their ground with the Fangfire twins, Riven and Ravenna. The twins’ eyes narrow at the smoke-choked skies where the Oktara had fallen.

“So that was the demon ship…” Riven mutters, his cutlass gleaming faintly. His brows furrow, scanning the horizon. “…But where is the leader?”

“What do you mean?” Seraphina asks sharply, spear angled, already bracing for trouble.

Her answer comes in the form of wings.

A shadow cuts across the burning sea, enormous, imposing. A figure drops down like a thunderbolt, landing with enough force to rattle the deck.

The man is tall, armored in black and silver, his great wings unfurling with a metallic screech like grinding steel. His face is sharp, unreadable, his presence suffocating.

At that exact moment, I and Luna land back on the Scourge, my flight suit hissing steam as it cools. And there he is. Waiting.

He doesn’t waste time with introductions. His voice is cold, cutting through the smoke.
“An interesting way of fighting… but cowardly.”

I meet his stare, refusing to flinch.
“That’s what I call tactical. There’s no such thing as fair in war.”

His lips curl faintly, and then his spear is already in motion.

The thrust comes faster than a cannon round — but I twist, barely dodging as it slams into the deck with a thunderous crack. Splinters explode outward.

“Randy!” Luna pivots gracefully, rapier flashing like lightning. She strikes at his flank, but his wings snap shut like a shield of iron. The impact rings out like steel on steel, and the recoil knocks Luna backward.

He steps forward, wings half-raised, his spear humming with magic.

I grit my teeth and pull my twin gunblade. Two shots fire in rapid bursts — sparks scatter as both bullets ricochet off the wing-armor.

His eyes glint. “You fight like the demons of old…”

“Demons, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.” I don’t give him the chance to reset. Gunblade collapses into blade mode, and I rush him, dropping into close-quarters.

The man is skilled — but he doesn’t expect my rhythm. I fake low, hook his wrist, then pivot. His stance cracks. With a growl, I grab his arm and twist, dragging him down into a takedown. His back hits the deck with a dull thud.

I jam the barrel of the gunblade against his temple. “Got you.”

But his wings flare, deflecting my aim. He rolls, twisting like a serpent, and the gunshot misses by inches.

“Impressive…” His tone is almost amused now, though his eyes sharpen. “As if—”

“Not done yet!” Luna is already there, rapier darting in like silver lightning.

Sparks scream as spear meets blade. He blocks her thrust cleanly, the force rippling through the deck. For a heartbeat, it’s a stalemate — two blades locked, neither giving ground.

Then he exhales, low and calm. His words are heavy, deliberate.
“You two… resemble someone I knew long ago.”

He pulls his weapon back and sweeps it wide, the sheer gust of wind forcing everyone to steady themselves.

Seraphina lowers her spear cautiously, eyes narrowing. “What’s he planning…?”

Riven hisses. “Damn it, I knew something was off.”

The winged man glances around at the scattered demon troops still clinging to the fight. He slams his spear against the deck once — the sound echoes like a command. Instantly, the demons pull back, retreating toward their ships.

His gaze lingers on me.
“Silver Fang… your deals are finished. This isle is no longer worth holding… for now.”

He straightens, wings stretching wide against the crimson sky. The sheer sight of them makes even hardened pirates falter.

“My name is Klaus,” he says at last, voice carrying above the smoke and crashing waves. “We shall meet again.”

With one powerful beat of his wings, he launches upward, cutting through the sky. The demon fleet turns with him, sails snapping as their ships begin their retreat.

For a moment, silence hangs over the battlefield, broken only by the crackle of fire and the groaning of broken masts.

Eira exhales sharply, hand gripping her cutlass. “…By the seas, that was close.”

Seraphina plants her spear into the deck, frowning. “He could’ve killed us. He chose not to.”

Luna sheathes her rapier slowly, but her hand still trembles from the force of his block. Her voice is low. “…Whoever he is… he’s not just another enemy.”

I holster the gunblade, eyes fixed on the burning horizon where Klaus disappeared. My heart’s still hammering, but I force a grin anyway.

“Guess this just got a lot more complicated.”

To be continued