Chapter X
✦
Dot slumped against the grimy wall like a marionette whose strings had been viciously cut.
Two heavy harpoons jutted from his shoulders, their iron shafts slick and gleaming with fresh blood. A third had grazed his temple — the wound smoldered, blackened flesh raw and weeping, a thin ribbon of smoke curling lazily into the cold air. Beneath him, a dark lake of blood spread slowly across the cobblestones, seeping into every crack like spilled ink.
His head lolled forward. Eyes half-lidded. Chest utterly still.
Then, impossibly, the wound at his temple began to close.
Flesh crawled and twisted, threading together in unnatural, glistening strands. The embedded harpoons trembled as muscle and bone shifted beneath them, reforming with wet, obscene sounds. A low, heavy thump echoed from inside his ruined chest.
His heart beat once.
Then again.
Faster.
Behind his closed eyelids, crimson light flickered like embers stirring to life in a dying fire.
Dren and Sylric carved through the pirates in perfect, deadly synchrony.
One pirate lunged at Dren with twin swords flashing. Dren parried once, twice — then ducked beneath a wild, overcommitted swing. At the exact same instant, Sylric sprinted toward another foe. He leaped, planted one boot on the man's shoulder, and used the pirate's own body as a springboard. Mid-air, his chain whipped out like a living thing, looping around the pirate's neck.
CRACK.
The man's head snapped back with brutal finality.
In that same heartbeat, Dren spun and slashed upward. His blade opened the twin-sword pirate's throat in a clean, crimson arc.
Sylric landed lightly on the tiles and kept moving without breaking stride.
Dren turned to face two more pirates rushing him. His sword flashed again — blood sprayed in a hot fan across the rooftop.
Moments Later
Sylric burst into the narrow street like a shadow given murderous speed.
A massive figure stepped from the darkness to meet him — an ogre-blooded pirate, easily twice Sylric's size, muscles bulging beneath a lattice of old scars.
The ogre grinned, yellow teeth gleaming. "Surrender, little man."
"You've grown." Sylric tilted his head, almost amused.
The ogre laughed — a deep, guttural sound — and slammed both fists together. A brutal shockwave erupted outward, pure force blasting through the air. The entire building beside them exploded backward in a roar of stone and splintered timber. Shrapnel filled the street.
Dust and debris billowed thick.
The ogre lowered his fists, chuckling. "Dead."
He turned to survey the rubble.
No Sylric.
"Where—"
A soft click sounded directly behind him.
Sylric stood at his back, already inside his guard.
"Brian." A pause. "Long time."
One precise chain strike to the base of the skull. The ogre's massive body convulsed, then shrank violently — muscles collapsing, bones compressing — until a terrified boy no older than twelve stood trembling in his place.
Sylric did not strike again.
He simply walked away.
The alley was empty now, save for three discarded harpoons and a wide, glistening smear of blood trailing toward the far end. No body. No Dot.
Dren knelt, fingers brushing the still-warm blood. "He's gone. We have to find him before he loses it completely."
Sylric's eyes narrowed. "If he's already lost it—"
"Then we find him before you decide to end him." Dren's voice was sharp.
Sylric said nothing. His chains snapped once, and he vanished forward in a blur too fast for the eye to follow.
Dren followed at a dead run.
Lanterns swayed in the chill wind, casting restless pools of light across the square. A small crowd huddled together, voices low and trembling.
"They killed the poor kid," one villager muttered. "He was just trying to help."
"He snapped that pirate's neck like it was nothing," another replied. "We had to do something."
A child pointed suddenly toward the shadows.
"Look…"
Heads turned.
Dot stepped into the square.
His shirt hung in blood-soaked shreds. Dark streaks of drying blood painted his arms and chest. His eyes burned solid crimson, and a flickering red aura clung to him like heat rising from a forge. Each step left a faint scorch mark on the ancient cobblestones.
The crowd recoiled as one.
"Demon!" a woman screamed. "It's a demon!"
Panic erupted. People scattered in every direction — doors slammed, children were dragged inside, shutters banged shut. A few brave, or foolish, souls raised whatever weapons they could find: pitchforks, broken chair legs, kitchen knives.
Dot did not speak. He did not even glance at them. He simply kept walking — straight through the heart of the square, the red light around him pulsing brighter with every heartbeat.
Sylric appeared in front of him in an instant, chains uncoiling like living serpents.
"You're gone, kid," he said coldly. "Time to end it."
The chains lashed forward, aimed for Dot's throat.
Dren slid between them, sword raised, intercepting the strike with a ringing clash of metal.
"Stand down." His voice was low and dangerous. "He's still in there."
Sylric's eyes hardened. "You willing to bet your life on that?"
"I already have."
Dren turned slightly, his voice dropping to something urgent and quiet. "They say when a person dies, they pass through an endless void. What happens to someone who keeps coming back?"
Behind Dot's eyes, a vision crashed through him: falling through an endless dark, thousands of skeletal hands clawing upward from below, grasping, climbing over one another, reaching for him.
"He's still there?" Sylric asked.
"He just has to remember he's back," Dren said.
Dot stopped walking. The red aura around him flickered uncertainly. His head tilted, as though listening to a voice coming from very far away. A hoarse whisper escaped his cracked lips.
"…Yiva…"
The crimson in his eyes dimmed — just a fraction.
Dren lowered his sword slowly. "Come back, boy. She's still out there. We're getting her back."
Dot's fists unclenched. The aura faded. He swayed on his feet, then dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
"I failed again," he whispered.
The memory hit him like a blow: the cowboy dragging Yiva away, the butt of the spear gun cracking against her skull, her body going limp.
Dren knelt beside him. "Not yet. You didn't fail yet."
Sylric coiled his chains but did not put them away. He watched Dot with cold, unreadable eyes.
Pirate Hideout — The Cove, Pre-Dawn
The camp buzzed with nervous tension. Pirates hurried to load the last crates onto the fastest sloop. Yiva and the little girl sat bound near the gangplank, heavily guarded. The captain paced the length of the dock, sweat beading on his brow.
"Move!" he snapped. "The rogue and his partner are coming — we sail now."
The cowboy leaned against a crate, watching him with cold contempt. "You're running? Really?"
"I'm off to collect my prize. You do what you wish."
"Coward."
The other pirates — scarred faces drawn tight — stepped aside slowly, forming a loose circle around their captain.
"What is this?" the captain demanded.
"The crew's made a decision," the cowboy said. "We can't have a coward leading us anymore. You're no use to anyone."
"No — you're making a mistake! My father built this crew. He made all of you. And now you turn your backs on me?" His voice cracked. "You're nothing without me!"
The cowboy pulled the trigger.
The captain's head shattered in a spray of blood and bone.
Silence.
Then — "I'm the new captain," the cowboy said.
The pirates erupted in wild, bloodthirsty cheers.
He turned to Yiva and smiled — a slow, cruel curve of his lips.
A scream split the night. Short and choked. One of the watchmen on the ridge pitched forward and rolled down the slope.
"He's here!" a pirate shouted.
The new captain's grin only widened.
"Let them come."
✦
— To Be Continued —